Free Light and Wine by Sparrow AuSoleil Page B

again, deeper into her with slow force that feels every bit as righteous as it does good. I slide all the way along and dig more than within, rocking deeper into her like a sacred word kept and fulfilled, and she opens up with more softness than I can bear.
    But He gives me strength, and I’m so grateful I feel my lips curve with each ordained movement, honored to give all of myself to this. The thought, as I rock, of all that I am, of what makes me me , of my soul itself pouring from me into light burns through my mind and into my blood, through my limbs and hips and fingertips, and I want that. I suddenly want it more than anything, to fill her and wrap her in this feeling.
    Opening my eyes, I shift my right hand from her knee to His altar. Her leg slides around me in turn, and I steady my weight above her shoulder as I rock, not asking her eyes to open, just watching. Her eyes are closed in bliss so staggering she can’t even bring her lips together, and her cheeks and chest burn with the rhythm of blushing life. Beautifully curved breasts move each time I do, and rosary beads roll against her chest as I rock. She holds fast to my arms, and I can see it as clearly as I can feel her, clinging desperately all along where I’m moving inside her.
    She’s so close.

“Love,” I whisper, telling and calling, needing.
    She’s been denied this part of love for so long.
    Ever since she left childhood, innocent and yet-untouched, she’s craved this. Curiosity grew into exigent exploration. Fingertips and imagination soothed her longing day in and out, and brought countless confessions to me. Shy looks among others became timid touches when we were alone in her room, and kisses amidst Latin lessons became urgently sought pressure between plaid cotton and black wool. She began skipping classes just to soothe and indulge love’s ache, bringing me more repentance that yearned for forgiveness and care, but no amount of pleasure Lacie found in her own touch or on my lap could ever compare to this relief.
    We’ve both waited, patiently and impatiently for the fullness of His word, and little forgiven and always adored deserves to feel what rightfully belongs to her.
    With as much force as I dare, I push deeper than Lacie’s ever felt.
    It elicits a whimper, and her eyelids press tightly to bear.
    Holding firmly to her hips with both hands, I pull back enough to miss the inviolate warmth of light before heavily bringing her back to me, and pushing completely within again.
    Light’s pink lips open further and she tightens her fingers against my shoulders. Her sounds echo and climb higher, grateful for the immaculate mercy of being full and asking for more still, pleading to overflow with devotion she was built for, belongs to, and will never, ever lose.
    Eyes on candle-gleaming skin, I guide her smoothly away and then back onto me with intentionally slow strokes. Dark lashes flutter and rise, barely not falling again as she arches with want to accommodate more. I smile over her, and held open legs tighten against my sides.
    Lifted and held up for me, I keep her still and just rock, sliding barely out and deeper inside with every push. I watch and listen. I breathe roses and taste wine, and am too full of light to remain so nearly still. She’s too lush not to move passionately inside of, and I know she feels it, too. The little cries spilling from her are for more, not less, and as her lids fall, I know it’s in fervor, not hurt.
    I breathe the scent of newly opened flowers deep into my chest as I grip tighter. Guiding her more than halfway away from my length, I hold my breath until she whimpers with missing, and I return her to myself with a quickness that pushes all the air from both of us.

Warm.

Warm.

So wholly warm, everywhere.

“Is it too much?” I ask while a hymn I’ve never heard love sing is still echoing around us.
    I try to take another deep breath, but manage only shallow pants as I watch Lacie’s chest