Embody (Full Circle #1)

by S. E. Hall

  I now sit both of us all the way up and arrange her on my lap, cupping her cheeks. “I’m glad you’ve got the whole post-orgasmic glow and delirium thing going on, but hear me on this, okay?” I steel my voice, despite my own lingering “just came stupor,” and search to the deepest depths of her eyes. “We only have a few minutes for me to talk sweet, how you need me to, before my dick wakes up from satisfied slumber and fucks with my brain, so listen carefully. Sex, or close to it,” I wink, “doesn’t always mean the guy leaves, Bellamy. I’m not going anywhere, ever, whether I just ate your sweet pussy or ate dinner with you. And the only time I’ll act weird around you is if there’s people with us and I’m trying to hide a hard-on or not attack you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she nods, then throws her arms around my neck and nuzzles her face into my chest. “I’ve just heard so many horror stories.”

  “Not about us, you haven’t. Baby, I’m only interested in getting in your panties now, and I am, because I know I’m already in your heart, exactly where I belong. And you’re in mine, embedded, for good.”

  “I love you, Jefferson Tate Kendrick,” she coos, covering my lips with hers.

  Unfortunately, I have to pull back, with a laugh. “I sure hope that was romantic enough and convinced you, because ‘sappy me’ has left the building. My dick just woke up. Bath or bed?” I ask, wrapping her legs around my waist and grabbing under her thighs to lift us to standing.

  “Both?” She grins, sleepy but hopeful.

  “Both it is, Love. You run us a new, hot bath and I’ll go grab us a snack and drink. We need to refuel.”

  “Why? We’re just bathing and going to bed. Neither of those are real taxing.”

  I stop in the doorway and turn around, mouth open to explain…mouth remaining open in lewd-minded, dick-hardening, ogling delight. She’s bent over the tub turning on the water, her perfect, heart-shaped ass up in the air and beckoning me.

  “Thought you were going to get a snack,” she teases, back, and ass, still to me.

  Of course I don’t respond; that would require thought, and thought requires at least some blood going to your brain.

  “Jefferson,” she drawls sexily as she gradually turns around. Dammit. Or not. Her natural, perky Ds and bare pussy make for two enthusiastic thumbs-up viewing as well. “I’m gonna let ya in on a lil’ secret I’ve been keeping, to help you out. I know, without having to even look, the second you enter the same room or general vicinity as me. Always have. And, I know when you leave, or don’t leave, that same area. Like now for instance. You never left, stopped and turned at the door. I assume to say something,” she bites down on her grin. “What was it?”

  “I love you?” Fuck if I can remember…that’s as good a guess as any I figure.

  “I love you too, but that wasn’t it.” She lays her arm across her boobs and uses the other hand to cover her pussy. “Now, try again.”

  What the…that actually worked. “Oh, I was gonna tell you not to be so sure that a bath and bed won’t be taxing, ‘cause you’ve never done that routine with me,” I smirk.

  Her body blushes from head to toe and she shakes her head, snickering. “And you shouldn’t presume that I’m ready to jump straight from Alpha,” she cocks a brow; yes, I caught the clever insinuation, “to Zeta. One day, a long time from now when we’re having silent, missionary sex every Wednesday night, after Wheel of Fortune is over of course, I want the memories of our slow-burn, romantic journey to hold onto. So slow your roll, horny toad.”

  “Ve-motherfucking-to!” I yell.

  “This oughta be good,” she rolls her eyes and holds up a finger. “Please stand by.” After she turns off the tub water, she faces me, trying to school her amused expression. “You were saying?”

  “You heard me, woman. I’m using my veto.”

  “Um,” she taps a fingertip on her chin, eyes cast up to the ceiling in mock recollection. “I recall you giving me a veto, when you listed your proposals, but I don’t remember you saying anything about you getting one too.” She basks in smug delight.

  “Bellamy,” I grate, prowling closer. “That’s a given. You know, tit for tat? Ninety-nine percent of the time I’ll pick tit, but this is too important. I’m using my veto.”

  “I’ll decide if I agree, after you tell me what you’re using it on. And,” she slaps my hand away, “you picked tat, so mitts off my tits, cheater.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” I poutfully agree. “Here’s the deal. I don’t mind missionary sex, lots of ways to get creative with that, believe it or not. And I’m good with doing it every Wednesday, as long as we also pay homage to doggy style, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, up against walls and other sturdy structures, you spread wide open on a variety of surfaces, me standing with you bent over whatever’s handy, and anything else I missed, the other days of the week. Unplanned or designated its own day. I’m not checking a calendar to fuck you, baby. And no silence. Ever. I’m always gonna talk filthy when I’m inside you, and if you’re not screaming, you best be making some other sexy noise or talking back, saying the dirtiest things you can think of. And last, fuck Wheel of Fortune. We’ll watch a porno, or Deadliest Catch. Or anything besides Wheel of Fortune. And in return, since loving compromise seems to be my new forte’, I’ll watch any new shows you find that you like at least once. I’ll always be the one to get up for our rejuvenation snacks and drinks. I’ll always make sure you come first. I won’t freak out that you’re already mapping out our life at eighty, and most importantly, I’ll ‘slow my roll’ so you get your fairy-tale. Deal?”

  “That was at least three vetoes. Just because you reel them all off at once doesn’t make it one,” she laughs. “But your ‘in returns’ saved you, quite nicely. It’s a deal.”

  Forty

  Bellamy

  I WAKE UP early with a smile on my lips and a fire in my belly. A tangible flame, burning so hot and determinedly, that my mind wouldn’t allow me to sleep any longer. Because while I slept, my subconscious had not, hard at work, feeding me the information I wake with a full knowledge and understanding of—and a readiness to act upon accordingly.

  Last night, the red-blooded, virile man currently wrapped around me like a pretzel— territorial even in sleep—had given me exactly what I needed. More. He’d listened, heard things I hadn’t even said, and seduced me mentally and emotionally.

  He’d bathed me, with slow, tender hands, murmuring sweet words of adoration. He dried me off, taking care to keep his touch gentle and reverent despite his inner struggle, obvious from the veins bulging in his neck, every tense muscle…and appendage. Then as we’d laid in bed together, both naked, our bodies wound together tempting, he’d continued to forego his male instincts and simply held me close, caressing my skin with love, not lust.

  He slowed his roll; surpassing my expectations, to ensure my fairy-tale. Because he loves me…beyond. Beyond “for now,” my body, pleasure, flesh, and the surface.

  Jefferson Tate Kendrick loves me soulfully.

  And because he’d shown me exactly how much he cares, and lengths of self-torture to which he’s willing to go, for me…I’m about to shift my own “roll” into high gear.

  If I can untangle myself without waking him.

  Very slowly, using a series of tactical maneuvers I have no idea where I learned, I free myself from the limbs of the sleeping beast and slink beneath the covers. With a feather light touch, I skim a fingertip up his thigh, and it works—rousing him just enough to reposition, giving me room to crawl between his legs.

  Damn. Okay, I’m a little taken aback by his huge, hard cock. I’ve heard about “morning wood,” and there’s no muted lighting this time, so yeah…damn. Not to mention, I’m on my own now, about to try my hand at pleasuring him without any of his guidance or encouragement.

  I grip him at the base and he stirs, so I freeze, mid-somnophiliac attack, until he settles again. Once I’m confident he’s back in a deep sleep, I take my time studying him. Testing t
he limits of my small hand around his thick girth, tracing a finger over every engorged, blood-filled vein, and finally lowering my head to glide my tongue up and down him in exploratory strokes. His taste is musky, manly, and inebriating. Hungry for more, I linger at the tip for a moment, then go for it, taking as much of him as I can in my mouth.

  First there’s a sexy, sleepy little hum, as if he probably thinks he’s dreaming, so I suck harder, forcing my throat to open and relax, taking him deeper. His dick swells bigger in my mouth and his hum turns into a rough, throaty groan thickened by sleep and desire. The sound is mesmerizing, and very empowering, so exhilarated by my brave control…I love him with my mouth, hand, tongue and hints of teeth in a sinful, fevered combination.

  Even through the fog of my porn-worthy playtime, I feel the draft—he’s lifted the covers and is now watching. I cast my eyes up, and sure enough, see a smoldering, smoky chestnut pair locked on the sweet spot where my mouth holds his dick.

  I suck harder, lick faster, reaching down to fondle his balls in one hand, using my pointer finger to massage the sensitive skin behind them. He pulses against my tongue, throws the covers completely off the bed and drives a hand through my hair.

  “Goddamn you’re good at that, baby,” his rumbled approval provokes me to new heights, my solitary need in this enraptured patch of time—to please him beyond his wildest dreams. “You like that, Bellamy? Sucking my cock? Hmm?”

  I hum ‘yes’ and bob my head, which bumps his head against the back of my throat, and on reflex, I swallow around it.

  “Fuck,” he bellows, digging his fingers into my scalp. “So good, baby. So. Fucking. Good. Get up here, woman. I wanna turn, too.”

  I release him with a wet “pop” and jerk my head up, shocked. He wants me to stop?

  He laughs and grabs for me, hauling me up his body. “Nuh uh, no little scowl. That felt amazing and was the best wake-up I’ve ever had. Seriously, your mouth just kicked the ass of every Christmas morning when I was little. But I want to play, too,” he dips his head and takes a breast in his mouth, slinking one hand down between my legs.

  My head lolls back and I keen in pleasure. His fingers tease, caress and slide inside me, setting off bursts of technicolor behind my eyelids. My breasts grow full and heavy with an ache of neediness. And…within that exact moment, I change. Irreversibly. No longer and never again will I be the Bellamy Jill Morgan of the last almost twenty years. No, from here forward, I’ll be the version of myself that laid in wait until Jefferson found me and tempted me out of my shell—to bask, flourish and grow in the sunlight. Spin around and dance in the rain, splashing in every puddle. And reflect, love, and follow my womanly instincts in the moonlight.

  Finally living.

  “What the,” he sputters in disbelief when I jump off him in a single bound. “Where the hell are you going, woman? Something better be on fucking fire!”

  “Be right back,” I giggle from the bathroom. Just to be safe, although I know it’s okay to take them at the same time every day, I pop a pill in my mouth and duck my head for a gulp of water from the sink. That takes care of that.

  I walk back out slowly, but with confidence, keeping my head up and eyes on his. I climb on the bed and move to him on my hands and knees. “I love you, Jefferson. Not a young love, or a new love,” I take a deep breath, “a meant love. An utterly consuming, undeniable respect, trust, appreciation and acceptance of everything you alone, and the two of us together, are, and are not. You give me more than I ask for, unselfishly, and knowing you’re with me, for whatever may come, fills me with a peace and happiness that nothing of this world can ever take away. I’m yours.”

  Reinforcing everything I just said, he stares into my eyes, silently telling me he knows what I want. He doesn’t give me a return sonnet, doesn’t say anything, but rather, gently guides me to lie on my back and moves to hover over my body.

  His fingers trace my lips, loving gaze on mine, before he lowers his head to take my mouth in tender leisure. More of his body weight comes to rest on me, skin on skin, and I wrap my arms around his back. I spread my legs, welcoming him into their cradle, swallowing his groan when the most intimate parts of our bodies finally come in contact for the first time.

  “Bellamy,” he tears his mouth from mine and husks my name on the skin of my neck. Raining kisses and slow laves of his tongue everywhere—up to my ear, back to my mouth, across my chest, on my breasts—he primes my body into an eager inferno. Smoothing a hand down my belly, then lower, his fingers explore my wetness and he growls, in careful question, in my ear. “Baby?”

  “Yes,” I answer what I know he’s asking in a passionate whisper.

  “You sure?” His voice is strained as he slides one, then a second, finger inside me and spreads them, stretching me.

  I nod, and immediately grin, already realizing my mistake before his bossy-face takes full-effect. He wants the words. “Yes, Jefferson,” I lift my head and kiss his chest, curling my legs around his waist. “I’m sure. I want you to take me, make love to me.”

  His mouth finds my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair. “I love you so damn much, Bellamy. Just relax for me, okay? I’ve got you.” His fingers leave me as he takes himself in hand, aligns with my core, then ever-so-slightly pushes forward, breeching me.

  I gasp and my body starts shaking, from what, I don’t know…realization, the gravity of what’s happening, love…all I do know is, I can’t stop it from happening. This is no finger or tongue, this is Jefferson, inside me.

  But like always, my man knows exactly what I need.

  “Sshh,” he murmurs in my ear, deep and lulling, “I won’t move until you’re ready. I’d never hurt you, my love. Never.” He worships my neck again, his hot mouth and tongue stoking the fire in me back to fully ablaze, replacing thought, turning me on so that I feel my pussy slicken and relax. “There she is,” he hums, “my baby’s neck is her sweet spot, isn’t it? Drives you crazy, gets you wet for me. You ready for a little more? Want deeper inside you so fucking bad, baby. You want me there?”

  “Yes.” I grab his face and kiss him madly, tilting my hips in invitation. He pushes in further, stretching me to my limits, but I just kiss him harder, ignoring the small bite of pain and choosing to focus on the blessed feeling of fullness instead.

  “God, Bellamy,” he pants on my lips, “you have no idea, woman. So warm. Wet. Tight. All for me, for my cock. Bare, inside you. Only me. Tell me, baby. Tell me it’s mine. Tell me you love feeling my dick filling your sweet lil’ pussy.” He’s growling his passion, thrusting a little bit more with each request as though delirious.

  I drop my legs from around his waist and drink of his feral tone and filthy words, bending my knees and spreading myself wide open for him. I grab his clenched ass in both hands and in a voice I don’t recognize, tell him, “It’s all yours, Jefferson. Take it, fill me up, now.”

  With a boundless, ferocious grunt, he drives into me, his balls slapping against my ass. The pain is intense but short-lived, which surprises me. “You…fuck…you’re…” he breathlessly rambles, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just wanna stay here a minute, feel your little tremors.” And then, as if suddenly coming to, his eyes fly open and he gazes down at me. “You okay, baby?”

  “I’m fine,” I smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Wonderful, really. Worst part’s over, now gimme the good,” I taunt.

  We escape, together, into a realm where only the two of us exist. Our own sphere where the light is blinding, with sparks of vibrant color around the edges, the air’s filled with a chorus of male and female sounds of pleasure joining in single, perfect harmony and raw surrender is the only thought or emotion allowed inside.

  Jefferson strokes in and out of my body; fast and carnal, then slow and fervently. His hips grind and pivot in a sensuous dance and I watch him penetrate me, over and over, until my eyes close themselves and I grip the sheets to find leverage, wanting the full impact of every delicious drive inside me.

&
nbsp; “Baby, can’t last much longer,” he heaves out, simmering with rich, male lust, “too damn good. You might-”

  One-minded as ever, I hear what he doesn’t have breath to say. I already know I’m not going to come; the lingering sting of torn flesh and brutally divine invasion just won’t let it happen. But I’ve gotten mine, many times over, in the bliss of an overwhelming, emotional connection. So, I save him any further anguish.

  “Come, babe. Come hard, inside me. I want it,” I beg in indecent whisper, raking my nails down his chest. “Give it to me, Jefferson.”

  “Fuck…coming…take it baby,” his husky roar vibrates through me as he pounds into me with brute force before his body goes rigid and with a low rumble in his chest, he pulls me against him and twitches inside me, a thick, pulsating explosion.

  Breathing staggered and still semi-hard inside me, he collapses on top of me, bearing most of his weight on his forearms, burying his face between my breasts. “I could lie here all day and never find the right words to describe that,” he laughs lightly. “Promise babe, I’ll make it up to you, as many times as you’ll let me.”

  I rub his back, kissing his soft hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you, and that was…” I sigh dreamily, “beautiful.”

  He lifts his head and flashes me a lazy, but ever smug, smirk. “You do know it’s better when you come, right?”

  “Yeah,” I giggle, “I’m sure that adds to the pleasure, but women, or at least this woman, got off on the connection. I’ve never felt more loved and adored in my life. And next time, it won’t hurt, so I’ll find out soon enough about this better.”

  His brows fold and a glint of sorrow casts across his eyes. “I’m sorry it hurt, baby. Lemme get ya some pills and a hot bath. Be right back,” he pecks me on the mouth and eases out of me, then climbs off the bed. Suddenly, his entire demeanor changes—the vein in his forehead making a pronounced appearance and his expression falling in a mixture of…something along the lines of horror and anger. “Shit,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.