Light and Wine Read Free Page B

her down, right here, she wrapped her legs around me, too, not letting air or sound or light anywhere between us.
    “Please, now, please …”
    Swift little hands dropped from my neck and down between us. Sliding smaller black lace out from under her skirt and down her legs, she worked with fervor as I kissed her, undoing belt and buttons until she found where I was immeasurably wanting, and slipped me free. For just a moment, hot, sensitive skin touched hotter, softer, even more sensitive skin and left us both unable to breathe.
    I close my eyes and fold my hands behind my head, abiding the impulse to palm and press against physical yearning that aches and remembers.
    With my chest covering hers, I could feel Lacie’s heart pounding to feel me where I was, between and above and sliding along for the first time. Dazed and desirous eyes opened wider under mine as I remained amazed and attentively still, and she lifted her hips up, parting her lips around the sound of need.
    “Oh …”
    Her breath was back and her voice was high, and I wanted to ask if she was sure. I didn’t want to open the most priceless gift either of us had ever been given until she was certain it was for me, that it had always been, but before I could find words, her right hand slid to my lower back and she pressed.
    She arched against me, and I could feel her chest barely containing beats that kicked and pushed, struggling to bring us together.
    God help me, I pushed, too.
    And just like that, she opened to me, and her yielding flooded my veins with heat and shock and the need for more, for all of her. As I fought every instinct to move further, her belly tightened and her hand at my back gripped more than pressed.
    “M-m-m …” she stammered, “Marc …”
    At hearing my name drawn from her lips, my restraint slipped. I gave her more.
    “Marc, wait—”
    Closing my eyes now just as I did then, I roll through physical pressure that outweighs me by innumerably blurred together and too anxious heartbeats.
    Of course I waited.
    Holding gently and kissing slowly, I supported my aching, dizzying weight until she finally nodded.
    “Okay,” she whispered, both hands on my shoulders, lids low over pupils as wide as the day she was born. “I’m ready.”
    Alone in my bed, I remember giving her the slightest fraction of my weight with eyes open.
    “Wait, wait, wait—” Her voice echoed small and high while her lips dropped further open just as her legs did, effort and need and sheer impossibility burning through her.
    Lost in heat, my forehead fell to her shoulder, and the muscles in my arms shook. My stomach knotted tighter, deeper, and my pulse crowded to take over everything else.
    The stillness of waiting bordered on unbearable, but the thought of moving inside her before she was ready was unthinkable.
    “Hold onto me, Lacie,” I whispered, the beginning of me only barely buried within the sacred warmth of her body. My voice sounded stuck in the hollow of my throat, and every synapse, every nerve ending pulsed, calling for her with need I’d never contended with before.
    My love winced a small gasp, her strain evident in clenching fingers and closed-tight eyelids.
    “I want to, Marc. Please, I want you to—”
    “I am. Come here, I’m right here,” I promised, nuzzling and kissing her neck, ushering the most insistent natural urges away with breath and lips. “Don’t let go.”
    “Please.” She swallowed a breath, “I want—” and then lifted her hips up into me, pulling all the air from my lungs.
    But the whimper that it drew from her was stitched with pain.
    All breath.   All hurt.
    Sitting up in my bed, opening and closing my hands, I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my face to my palms.
    “Stop,” she cried, pink cheeked and pinker lipped with embarrassment and endurance, shaking her head while her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.”
    “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I hushed with