Strip
By: piperholmes
A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews for this story. It has been overwhelming. I appreciate everyone sticking with it so far. Your respond to this story has been wonderful and I am so grateful. As usual, this is unbeta'd. I hope the glaring typos (which I'm sure exist) aren't too distracting!
Part 3: not only the beds where you lay
Tom's lips pressed against the skin of her neck before he buried his face into her hair, breathing deeply.
He felt her hands glide along his arms, tickling as her fingers brushed lightly.
He shivered, the hairs on his arms standing up. She knew he hated being teased, hated the feeling of her ghosting across his body, and he was sure she was doing it on purpose.
"Quit," he laughed, pulling back to look at her.
Her smile was innocent. "Quit? Why I thought you wanted this?"
He loved her cheek. "You know what I mean," he accused as his own fingers slowly walked down her body. "If you don't stop I'll be forced to do something drastic."
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" he demanded, doing his best to keep his face serious as his fingers grew closer and closer to her knee, threatening to press the skin underneath where she was the most ticklish.
She laughed, suddenly shifting her legs to wrap around him, capturing him.
Playtime was over.
His eyes fluttered shut as her lower body ground against him. Tom's hands had to leave her body to keep him from collapsing against her. His body took over, thrusting slowly against her as he grew harder.
Her own hands moved up his body, all teasing gone, pressing hard against his back, pushing his night shirt higher, her intentions clear.
Tom shifted enough to allow her to strip him of his vest. Sybil immediately pulled him down to her, to her eager lips. He groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of her tongue battling with his, each diving deeper, a precursor to what was to come.
And still they moved.
Tom's hips rolled, pressing hard against her, begging for more. Her breath burning his cheek, her fingers stroking through his hair, her legs clinging to him, brought a desperate whimper from his throat, and still he wanted more.
His mouth moved from her lips, wildly scavenging for every taste of her, lingering on her shoulder, just by her neck. He smiled against her when he heard her answering gasp, felt her fingers tighten and fist in his hair. He knew she was sensitive there and he loved to exploit that knowledge.
Sybil responded in kind, her lips seeking out his jaw as she kissed her way towards his ear, licking and biting, before taking his earlobe into her mouth and sucking gently.
"Sybil," he moaned, longing to go slow, and make a sweet reunion. But his hands were excited, desperate, and one moved to the hem of her night dress pulling and tugging it up higher and higher.
Tom had to stop, had to palm the white flesh of her thigh, his warmed hand against her cool skin, before moving to push her night gown higher.
Lost in his haze of desire he was surprised to feel her hand against his, stopping his progression.
"Sybil?" he whispered, wishing his voice didn't sound quite so harsh.
"It's alright," she assured, her own voice husky. "Just…let's just leave it down some, alright?"
Tom blinked, and blinked again. "Sybil, if you don't want—"
"I want Tom, just please let's not worry about my night clothes," she insisted, her cheeks pinking from embarrassment.
He couldn't let it go, despite how readily his body was willing to not worry about it. His hand abandoned the task, and moved to stroke her cheek.
"My love, what is it?" he pressed, stilling their bodies, eyes locking.
And then he knew.
He knew what was worrying her.
"Oh my darling," he breathed, placing a small kiss against her forehead, her nose and finally her mouth. "You are beautiful, so beautiful."
She frowned. "You haven't seen me, not like this anyway, not here. I'm not like I was before the baby…I still have marks and—"
"You're perfect," he tried again. "You are the mother of my child, and as much as I loved your body before you had our little girl, I'm madly in love with the body that gave life to that little girl."
He saw her uncertainty, her hesitation, yet he knew she believed him, believe he felt that way but somehow he understood that she needed to believe those words for herself, she needed to feel that way about her body. The reluctance in her eyes told him she wasn't quite ready, so he didn't push. Instead he did as she wished, ensured her nightdress kept her stomach covered.
"You're beautiful," he repeated, knowing now he needed to tell her more often.
Sybil's smile was small and crooked, but she offered him a slower, more tender kiss than what they'd been doing, distracting him while her hands tugged at the fabric of his waistband. His concern for her kept his still. He felt awkward and guilty.
Sybil sighed and gave a significantly hard tug, communicating her impatience with him.
Tom made no effort to help her, knowing how capable she was at disrobing him, instead, he focused on disrobing her, accepting her nonverbal insistence that she wanted to continue. Again his hand moved to her, cupping her bottom, forcing her off the bed enough for him to pull her knickers down.
He gave a small yelp as her own hands made contact with the round globes of his behind, squeezing slightly, playfully, her toe sliding further under the fabric of his pants, pushing them down his legs.
He wiggled and kicked, until he was finally naked above her.
"You're over dressed," he smiled, pulling away from her, forcing her legs to drop and fall open before him. He shifted, allowing her knees to come together enough for him to slide her underclothes off.
"Much better," he declared proudly, ignoring Sybil's chuckle.
"You're quite pleased with yourself," she said.
"Not nearly pleased enough Mrs. Branson," he answered kissing his way up her leg, unable to resist the temptation of wetting the skin under her knee and blowing, delighting in her small shriek of protest.
He grunted, caught unaware, when her fingers encircled him, wrapping themselves around his hardened length, a sweet punishment for his behavior.
But it had been too long, he was too ready, he couldn't handle her soft touch against him, and he grabbed her hands pinning them to the pillow as his body again aligned with hers.
Her legs opened; cradling him.
Carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, he pushed into her.
Sybil hissed.
Tom cursed. He should have made sure she was ready.
"It's alright," she assured him again. "Just go slowly."
It was Tom's turn to hesitate, but the look she gave him was in earnest so, still refusing to take his eyes off her face, he continued, sliding only a little further in before he saw his wife's lips press tightly together, and not from pleasure.
He made to pull out but her feet moved to behind his knees, holding him.
"Sybil?" he petitioned, his concern growing.
"Please, just…I think if you can just push all the way in it will feel better," she reasoned.
Tom had his doubts. He suddenly realized she didn't feel very wet.
Unexpectedly she thrust upwards, trying to take as much of his length in as she could.
They both cried out.
"Are you alright?" Tom panted, doing his best to keep control over himself.
Sybil nodded and began undulating beneath him, prompting him to move.
Tom responded, moving as carefully as he could. Sybil gave no sign of discomfort, and the muscles in his neck began to burn, forcing him to drop his head against her neck once again.
She felt so good, his wife, his lover. He began to lose himself in the sensations flowing through him, as he moved within her, his hands clinging tightly to hers.
It nearly caused him to miss the small pinprick of pain. Her hand wasn't just clinging to his, it was clutching, her nails digging into him.
Abruptly he pulled back, catching the look of pain on her face, her eyes screwed shut, lips white and tightly sealed together, before she could hide it.
He didn't hesitate this time. He pulled out of her, scrambling off her body. To his horror he saw a small tear escape down her cheek.
"Sybil, what…" he wasn't even sure what to ask.
She quickly moved to cover herself, sitting up and drawing her knees close to her chest.
She wiped at her face, trying to remove her weakness. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure. I thought, I thought I was ready, but it…it was a little painful, but I'd hoped it would be like our wedding night, and would feel better as we went along, but…" she trailed off.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded, angry, angry to know he had been hurting her, feeling like a cad, a selfish rake.
A wail sounded from across the room, and he cringed, realizing too late that his voice had risen.
Sybil gave him a hard look, before moving to get up.
"Wait," Tom stopped her, a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound angry…"
"It's fine," Sybil interrupted, shrugging his hand off.
"Just hold on a moment," Tom tried. "Maybe she'll calm down and go back to sleep."
Sybil turned to him, an expectant look on her face.
And suddenly Tom didn't know what to say.
Ignoring the still painful burn between her legs, Sybil slid off the bed and moved to her daughter, grateful for the distraction. She welcomed the upset child into her arms, untying her dress as the baby rooted around for a comfort.
She watched dejectedly, fighting her tears, her baby suckling greedily at her breast, as Tom sheepishly excused himself to the washroom.
It had been a disaster.
A complete and total disaster.
She sniffled, startling the feeding baby, and wiped angrily at her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not between them. It had always been so good, so perfect. It was a side of their marriage that had never suffered.
And she had no idea how to fix it.
To be continued
Thanks for reading!
More soon. I promise.