“Just this,” he said. “This feels so, so good.”
The last time we’d been together, when Sierra interrupted us, he had been like a raging bull coming out of the pen, and although I could feel his undeniable arousal, I could also feel something else. Damian was content. For the first time, no one was closing in on us, no one was tearing us apart. We had found our way back to each other. We were finally free to be. It was a feeling Damian wanted to savor, something that surpassed lust and desire and carnal pleasure. It was a sense of belonging that blurs the lines between two people, when you find your ankle wrapped around someone else’s, or your fingers intertwined, and it’s so natural, so automatic, that you have no conscious thought of it happening. When I think of God, I think of all these magical, inexplicable things, multiplied by infinity.
“Was it hard? Sierra’s birth?” Damian was still stroking my hair.
“Yes.” I wasn’t going to lie. “But it had more to do with my heart than my body.”
We lay quietly for a while, knowing we would do it all over again, for the little miracle that slept in the next room.
“You named her after the mountains in MaMaLu’s lullaby.”
“I did.” I smiled. “Did she tell you her middle name?”
He shook his head.
“Mariana.”
“For MaMaLu and Adriana.” Damian shifted so we were lying side to side on the bed. “Her feet are just like yours.”
“They’re not.”
“I saw them when I tucked her in tonight. The big toe doesn’t want anything to do with the rest of them. There’s a huge space in-between.”
“My feet aren’t like that.”
“Oh no?” Damian flung the covers aside and knelt by my foot. “See this?” He held out my big toe. “I can fit my entire nose between this and the next toe.” He proceeded to try to prove his point.
I started laughing because it tickled, but then I caught a glimpse of something and my breath hitched. Esteban was back.
“What?” asked Damian, sliding next to me.
“Nothing.” I pushed the hair away from his forehead and kissed him on the nose. “I love you.”
“I love you too, güerita.” He held my pinky finger to his chest, next to his heart. “And now I’m going to kiss you until you feel it in the tip of your anti-social toe.”
And he did. His tongue parted my mouth, one hand gripped the back of my neck, the other pulling me so close that every inch of my body came in hot, electric contact with every inch of his. My back arched as he pulled my leg over his, bending my knee around his hip, and grinding himself into me. A throaty moan escaped me as we fell into a frantic rhythm, his hands on my ass, squeezing and releasing.
“It’s been so long, Skye, I’m not going to last.” His voice was muffled by my neck, his face tangled in my hair.
“I don’t think I will either.” I was spiraling out of control, so ready for his possession that I couldn’t focus on anything else.
“Not yet.” He pulled away when I reached for his boxers. “I want to taste you. Do you know how many times I’ve thought of this?”
I expected him to go down on me, but he rolled us over so I was on top. “Straddle my face, Skye. That’s it. God, yes.”
All my inhibitions went out the window when Damian pushed my panties aside. His tongue parted my folds, all the way up to my clit. He licked. My thighs clenched. His lips closed around the tight, little button and he sucked, in short, sweet bursts. When it got too intense, he switched to licking, alternating between the two.
“Damian.” I was close. So close. My fingers curled around his hair.
“Let me look at you.” He tugged my panties down and I shimmied out of them. One long finger slid inside. “So fucking wet.”
I threw my head back as his thumb circled my clit.
“Ride my face, Skye. Come for me. I want your juices all over me.”