Read Online Light and Wine by Sparrow AuSoleil - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sparrow AuSoleil
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as she smooths those down my legs, too, whispering, “Love, love, I love you, I love you,” as she goes.
My chest swells immensely tighter as Heaven’s hands cover me. Her lashes fall and her mouth parts as she feels skin that aches with long-deferred need that knows only her name.
My hands shake as I draw down to kiss her lips.
Blessed, bound, and beloved, the heart that was born to hold mine whispers a small sigh from her open mouth to mine. Sliding my hand from her cheek to the edge of the altar, I brace myself there and lean over God’s softest glow, kissing her joyfully and guiding her touch with my own. My knees weaken further and my pulse thunders so deeply, so audibly in my chest, as she closes both hands and shows me love with a singular, curious, and carefully slow stroke.
I moan.
I tense.
I lean harder into my hand on his altar, and when small palms warmly cup the end of me, velveteen-feeling thumbs brushing the head of where life and love and longing are all full and aching, I close my eyes. Her gentleness draws a deeper sound from my chest, and Lacie moans with me, light and high while she circles and covers and comes to learn my body with piously passionate touches.
With my right hand still over both of hers—feeling her, feeling me—she slides affection from the head to the base and back again, rubbing worshipful and flirtatious fingertips all over the end of me. She hums under my lips, pleased to please, and I can’t help gripping the altar cloth and marble under it.
Keeping palms made of warmth and slick-soft thumbs slowly moving, cherished and cherubic leans back just enough that I open my eyes. Honor and awe in hers call for my nearness, and I shift my stance as she leans back, keeping close as she lies down again.
Still touching me.
Stroking me so slowly, so adoringly all the way down.
Not along her body, but breathtakingly close.
I try to swallow.
I try to breathe.
But all I can do is endure not rocking forward, along and inside home and love and light.
Before the words can form on my tongue, Lacie smiles, pure and gracious and promising under desire-dipped lids.
“Te amo, Father,” she whispers. “Te amo in aeternum.”
I love you, forever.
Love that’s ageless and brand new at the same time floods through me with heavy warmth that makes my frame give. Most beloved gasps as we make contact, and I can’t help giving her more of my weight.
Unabashed, she moans as she slides both hands up my sides and around my back to bring me closer. Her lids fall under my open eyes, and I wonder if she’s remembering the other night in my room, haste and hurt and flesh too weak to wait. She can’t know what’s coming any more than I do, but as I watch her, Lacie surrenders from within, opening like she knows love could never hurt her.
As if this vulnerability was effortless.
As if every muscle and tendon was meant to give, irresistibly as the tide, to me.
I move slowly above her, exploring my blessing’s most insistent need with my own, and watch her breathe beneath me, the lightest little inhales filling her chest as pure virtue enfolds me. Pink cheeks blush brighter and delicate brows draw together as I feel and let her feel what we’ve both ached so long for—because even though I’ve waited while my girl has heeded intensely intimate thoughts, this contact has been equally yearned for. What her precious longing is lacking in my years, it makes up for in ardent insatiability.
And she’s here now, and so warm, so soft, so all-encompassing that I almost curse for the first time in over a decade as my body slides against where she was made to hold me.
I don’t.
I drop my lids without the strength to hold them up any longer, and I groan. The scent of roses surrounds and permeates as the reason I live and breathe echoes my sound, and I want to open my eyes. My brain tells my lids to lift, but they don’t. Blissfully blind in the feel of love opening to let me in, all I
My chest swells immensely tighter as Heaven’s hands cover me. Her lashes fall and her mouth parts as she feels skin that aches with long-deferred need that knows only her name.
My hands shake as I draw down to kiss her lips.
Blessed, bound, and beloved, the heart that was born to hold mine whispers a small sigh from her open mouth to mine. Sliding my hand from her cheek to the edge of the altar, I brace myself there and lean over God’s softest glow, kissing her joyfully and guiding her touch with my own. My knees weaken further and my pulse thunders so deeply, so audibly in my chest, as she closes both hands and shows me love with a singular, curious, and carefully slow stroke.
I moan.
I tense.
I lean harder into my hand on his altar, and when small palms warmly cup the end of me, velveteen-feeling thumbs brushing the head of where life and love and longing are all full and aching, I close my eyes. Her gentleness draws a deeper sound from my chest, and Lacie moans with me, light and high while she circles and covers and comes to learn my body with piously passionate touches.
With my right hand still over both of hers—feeling her, feeling me—she slides affection from the head to the base and back again, rubbing worshipful and flirtatious fingertips all over the end of me. She hums under my lips, pleased to please, and I can’t help gripping the altar cloth and marble under it.
Keeping palms made of warmth and slick-soft thumbs slowly moving, cherished and cherubic leans back just enough that I open my eyes. Honor and awe in hers call for my nearness, and I shift my stance as she leans back, keeping close as she lies down again.
Still touching me.
Stroking me so slowly, so adoringly all the way down.
Not along her body, but breathtakingly close.
I try to swallow.
I try to breathe.
But all I can do is endure not rocking forward, along and inside home and love and light.
Before the words can form on my tongue, Lacie smiles, pure and gracious and promising under desire-dipped lids.
“Te amo, Father,” she whispers. “Te amo in aeternum.”
I love you, forever.
Love that’s ageless and brand new at the same time floods through me with heavy warmth that makes my frame give. Most beloved gasps as we make contact, and I can’t help giving her more of my weight.
Unabashed, she moans as she slides both hands up my sides and around my back to bring me closer. Her lids fall under my open eyes, and I wonder if she’s remembering the other night in my room, haste and hurt and flesh too weak to wait. She can’t know what’s coming any more than I do, but as I watch her, Lacie surrenders from within, opening like she knows love could never hurt her.
As if this vulnerability was effortless.
As if every muscle and tendon was meant to give, irresistibly as the tide, to me.
I move slowly above her, exploring my blessing’s most insistent need with my own, and watch her breathe beneath me, the lightest little inhales filling her chest as pure virtue enfolds me. Pink cheeks blush brighter and delicate brows draw together as I feel and let her feel what we’ve both ached so long for—because even though I’ve waited while my girl has heeded intensely intimate thoughts, this contact has been equally yearned for. What her precious longing is lacking in my years, it makes up for in ardent insatiability.
And she’s here now, and so warm, so soft, so all-encompassing that I almost curse for the first time in over a decade as my body slides against where she was made to hold me.
I don’t.
I drop my lids without the strength to hold them up any longer, and I groan. The scent of roses surrounds and permeates as the reason I live and breathe echoes my sound, and I want to open my eyes. My brain tells my lids to lift, but they don’t. Blissfully blind in the feel of love opening to let me in, all I
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