The Bone Chapel

Walls

He laid me on the bed so my legs draped over the edge. My back and hair, soaked with water, moistened the quilt beneath me creating a warm, almost uncomfortable, dampness. The ceiling fan spun above me, pushing air across my stomach, chest, and face. The contrast felt stark compared to my back and I shivered beneath the breeze's refreshing touch.

"Let me do everything," he said as he stood by my legs at the bed's edge. "I don't want you to hurt yourself further."

Part of me wanted to fight back and tell him I wouldn't be a selfish lover. However, the exhaustion in my limbs held my tongue. Not to mention, a voice—one I had long ignored—told me that this was just the beginning. That I would have many chances in the future to return the favor. In that moment, though, I was at his mercy.

Hands, strong and large, yet timid in their touch, took hold of my knees and spread my thighs. The morning air blowing through the windows and churned by the fan, found my moist entrance and cooled the swollen skin. I breathed in slow, my eyes fluttering as anticipation bounced through me. He drew close and leaned down with arms braced on either side of me.

"Are you okay?" His eyes—dark, afraid, hungry—looked over my slackened face.

"Yes," I breathed.

Then he placed light kisses upon my lips, his muscles hardening as he continued to prop himself just above me, his chest only barely touching the tips of my breasts. He was cautious, but his careful gestures only stoked the growing fire within me. When his lips traveled to the curve of my jaw and down my neck, my spine arched and closed the gap between us. One arm snaked beneath me to support my lower back and I felt his hardened desire pressing against my lower stomach.

I gasped with the overload of sensations; our skin kissing, sweat mixing, and heartbeats drumming in unison. He paused on my collarbone, savoring the way the rigid peaks of my nipples dragged across his chest with each breath. Then, his patience faltered and he moved his mouth to encircle my breast. His arm retracted from where it had held me up in my backbend. I fell back to the wet quilt and his now free hand kneaded the breast not currently occupied by Everett's soft lips and dexterous tongue.

My arms found a spark of energy that ignored his request for passive acceptance of his lusty work and instead sent one hand digging into the hair at the base of his skull, while the other gripped his large, sinewy shoulder. My nails dug in as he nipped my delicate flesh. My breath caught as he pinched and pulled. My heart pounded as he drew away and fell to his knees. Both hands took hold of my breasts while his lips moved down to my navel.

I could no longer see his progress without propping myself up on my elbows. Instead, I shut my eyes and focused upon the pressure of his hands pushing my thighs further apart and the rasp of his whiskered face moving from the soft skin of my belly and down to the tender flesh between my legs.

A spring tightened in the pit of my stomach and my whole body sparked with fear and excitement. I built up a mental wall between us, afraid my rapidly shifting emotions may discourage him from exploring further. However, that didn't stop his own thoughts from seeping in.

He felt wonder, apprehension, and desire. It fanned my flames and when his tongue touched the small bud awaiting him, I burst into an inferno and cried out with my hands fisted into the quilt.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice smaller than I've ever heard. "If I'm hurting you, we can stop here." He pulled away and I felt the loosening grip upon my thighs.

"No," I whined, my throat struggling to form words. "The exact opposite."

I couldn't manage more than that, but he dove back in without hesitation. His fingers spread my folds apart so he had room to dance his tongue around my most sensitive mound. I raised my hand to my mouth, biting down upon it to keep myself from crying out. If Everett noticed, he didn't take that as a sign to slow his exploratory minstrations around my clit. In fact, he delved deeper.