What If

She matched my fervor, kissing me with ardor and enthusiasm. I had my hands under the edge of her shirt, pulling it over her head in one swift movement, my hands at the button of her jeans. Once I had both the fastener and zipper undone, she pulled away enough to push her jeans down her legs. She kicked the fabric to the side and stood straight, breathing heavily, eyeing the clothes still on my body. She walked up to me slowly. I noticed black ink on her rib cage but couldn’t make out the words.

Her hands slid beneath my blue t-shirt, the coolness of her palms connecting with the heat of my abdomen. There was so much of her that I wanted to see, to touch with the tips of my fingers and watch her react to the pressure. But the cursive words below her left breast continued to draw my attention.

Grabbing her left arm, I lifted it so I could turn her enough to see the scroll. The words written down her side caused a tightening in my chest. She looked at me timidly, a small shrug raising her shoulders. I recognized the lyrics from “Dear God”. It was from the second verse, right after the first time the chorus plays. She had the very last two lines of that verse written in letters that bled together.

I reached behind me, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and pulled it over my head unhurriedly. I saw a flash of pain in her brown eyes when she saw the scars that decorated my front. That’s not what I wanted her to see though. I turned around at a hesitant pace.

The loud intake of breath from Briar made my shoulders tense for a moment, but then I chanced a look over my shoulder. She had a hand covering her mouth as she read the words printed from the top of my back all the way to the top of my ass.

“When did you get that?” I inhaled when her fingers slid down the expanse of my back.

“A couple years ago when I came back from Afghanistan.” I turned around, wanting her to see me as I said the next words. “You were always with me, Briar. I told you when I left that this was for you, that every time I listened to it I would be thinking of you.” A tear rolled down her cheek and fell from her chin. “It was my silent way of saying you were always there. Every day.” It took a few hours of sitting in an uncomfortable tattoo bench, the sting of the needle moving across my skin a welcomed relief, each word of “Dear God” flowing out of the ink gun into my skin, imprinting the lyrics permanently, a mirror image of the girl permanently residing in my soul.

Not another word was spoken. She didn’t ask about the scars expanding from the highest part of my pectorals leading down to the spot right below my belly button. Some of the thickened skin looked like cross stitches along my body. The new flaws of my skin didn’t embarrass me, but I certainly didn’t enjoy the memories that came to mind when I looked in the mirror and saw the puckered areas. Briar lightly traced the thickest scar of them all, the one that bled to the point that I feared I would lose my life. As she trailed slowly across it her lips pressed to the circular bullet hole on the right side of my chest.

She took her time and perused each imperfection with her lips. My gaze stayed glued to her as she moved lower until she was on her knees, kissing the very last scar. She fumbled with the belt buckle around my hips, unclasped my jeans and pulled them down, taking my boxer briefs with them.

The warmth of her mouth wrapped around my dick brought a moan from my lips. She took me deep into her throat. Once, twice. When she pulled back, I grabbed the back of her hair and stopped her from continuing her motion.

“No more.” I pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Come here.” She stood back up on shaking legs.

I curled a finger around the center part between the cups of her bra and drew her closer to me. Once her body pressed against mine, I took her mouth with mine, walking her backward until we reached the open door of my bedroom. I didn’t bother closing the door behind us because no one else lived here.

My hands devoured her body, touching every inch of bare skin and then roaming the areas still covered by her underwear. I wanted her naked and as much as I wanted to be the one to strip her of the clothing. What I really wanted was to be able to take in every hill and valley as she stood nude in front of me.

I slowed the kisses. They were still deep, her tongue meeting mine in between our lips. I pulled away and stepped towards the bed; she frowned and quirked her head to the side in confusion.

“Stand there,” I told her. “Strip for me,” I demanded.

Her eyes expanded, her fingers twisting and cracking each other in front of her. The nervousness she felt reflected in the small actions I recognized from our teen years. “I’d rather you do that,” she said softly, taking a step towards me.

I smirked in assurance. “Briar, I want to see all of you, and I can’t do that if I’m the one taking off your clothes.”

She squirmed noticeably, refusing to meet the heated look in my eyes. She looked down at my chest and then stared at the hardened length of my dick.

Her throat worked up and down, swallowing. She wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue.

Chuckling, I brought her attention back to me.

“You’ve had your chance to look at me. Now I want mine.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and her chest rose and fell as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She peeled the navy piece of clothing down her arms and let it drop to the ground near her feet. I browsed her body carefully: the roundness of her breasts, the pink peaks that I wanted to take into my mouth and suck until they puckered in between my lips. Her thumbs tucked into the sides of her laced panties. She shimmied them down, her back bending forward as she removed them from her legs.

She stood back up, clearly fighting the desire to hide behind her hands and arms, but she kept her tanned arms to her sides and slowly opened her eyes. My dick grew harder at the bare skin between her legs. Why she would ever feel the need to hide the beauty of her skin was beyond me. She was perfection, stunning, better than a man could ever ask for. Her breasts were large and natural, her waist thinner than it used to be. Her waist lead to wide hips that made my mouth water.

I already knew she had a nice ass by the way her pants hugged her and from what I remembered of her underwear run down the hallway all those years ago. I loved the way her hips flared out like a Greek painting in a museum. Women never seemed to appreciate the true beauty of hips. I imagined my hands holding tightly to the sides of her ass as I sank deep inside of her.

Though I wanted to touch her skin, I held back, wanting to make everything perfect. “You should never lack in confidence, Briar. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” She must have noticed the seriousness of my voice, because her back straightened and a shy smile quirked the tips of her lips upward, softening her face.

“Lay down on the bed,” I commanded gently. She raised one of her delicate eyebrows but sashayed over to the bed, climbed into the center and lay down on her side.

We kept smiling at each other like virgins about to have sex for the first time. There was no way the smile was going to come off my face anytime soon. I put a knee down on the cushion of the bed and slowly made my way to her legs. She turned onto her back; her knees pressed together, and she looked down at me. I put a hand on her left knee intending to pull it apart from her other leg.

“Wait, don’t forget the light,” she spoke quickly.