Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

She hadn’t been wearing anything beneath them.

The urge to groan in approval ripped through me, but I suppressed it, because though she was nearly naked now and my erection was so strong it pitched a tent in my pants, there was something more to this moment than lust, something more than my hands on her thighs spreading her legs as I kissed a trail from her ankle to the sweet spot at the apex of them.

I couldn’t take away what she’d been through. I couldn’t go back in time and steal her away from Randy before he had the chance to make her his, before he took that chance and used it to fuck her up instead of cherish her. I couldn’t unhurt her.

But I could show her what she meant to me.

My heart thumped hard in my chest — once, twice — reminding me that I had things I needed to tell her, questions I needed to ask, answers I had to have. But I quieted it with a soft kiss on her clit, one that elicited a gasp from her lips and an arch of her back off the bed.

It could wait.

Knowing what we were and what we weren’t, hearing her claim me, explaining that I needed to claim her, that I needed more, that I needed all of her — it could all wait.

Tonight, I would show her what I felt.

And when the time was right, I’d tell her, too.

My hands grabbed at the creases where her hips met her thighs, and I tugged her down until her ass was half off the bed, the weight of her in my hands as I paid homage to her pussy. I ran my tongue flat and hot from bottom to top before sucking her bud between my teeth, gently sucking, just enough to make her squirm before I released it again.

Sydney’s hands found my hair, and I buried my face more, letting her guide me where she wanted me. I listened to the words she wasn’t saying, to the way her hands tightened in my hair or loosened, to the way she moaned or stayed silent. My tongue was the student, eager and devoted, and her body language taught all it needed to know.

She was panting heavily and squirming so much she’d nearly fallen off the bed when I adjusted her, making sure she was secure before I removed one hand from where I held her and tickled her entrance with my fingertips. She groaned, leaning up on her elbows, her eyes hooded from where she watched me.

I kept my eyes on hers, my tongue flicking her clit, and in one thrust, I pushed two fingers deep inside her.

She arched in a mixture of pleasure and pain, flying back down on the bed and gripping the sheets. She twisted them wildly as I curved my fingers inside her, holding back the screams I knew she wanted to let loose so we didn’t wake Paige. Her hand pressing the back of my head more into her and her legs shaking around it told me what her screams couldn’t, and I kept pace, flicking and flexing and pushing in and out until her entire body erupted into an earthquake of trembles, her breaths short and loud, climax ripping through her.

She collapsed in a heap on the bed as I slowly withdrew my fingers, kissing my way up her body until I found her mouth. Sydney held my lips to hers, the kiss hard and desperate and appreciative, and then she bit my lower lip as I stifled a moan.

“Take these off,” she whispered, tugging on my athletic pants, and I stood, eagerly answering her plea.

I peeled my long-sleeve shirt over my head, making quick work of my pants and briefs next, all while keeping my gaze locked on hers. Sydney tugged her sports bra over her head, too, and then crawled back until her head was on the pillows, and we both sighed in relief when I was on top of her, sliding between her legs, our bodies hot and slick where they met.

I was already lined up at her entrance, and all it would take was a flex of my hips to bury myself inside her. But we both paused, our breaths heavy and loud as Sydney ran her fingers back through my hair, and I held my weight on my elbows, balancing over her, our eyes searching each other’s.

Everything that existed in the fundamental part of who I was screamed for me to tell her I loved her.

It echoed like my body was a chamber, like if each cell yelled loud enough, Sydney would hear it whether the actual words came or not.

And maybe she did.

Maybe she understood, as her brows bent together, and her lips parted, and she lifted her head off those pillows enough to connect her mouth to mine. Maybe she knew it all along, and that kiss was quieting me, as if to tell me I didn’t need to speak it out loud at all.