His skin flushed, the first real palpable emotion she’d seen in him. He moved toward her, the most serious look on his face. “I’ll stay as long as I can. I want you to believe that. I really want you, Nell. I think I need you.”
For the first time since they’d begun, she was the aggressor. She put her hand out, grasping his, pulling him toward her. She was going to be with Henry Flanders tonight. She was going to be his lover. “Come and kiss me, please, Henry.”
He needed the politeness. She could see that now. She’d handled him all wrong. People needed different things, and it was wrong to withhold them. Henry needed to be needed. He craved it like a flower needed sunshine. And Nell needed to give. She gave so much, but often to people who didn’t want her there. What would it feel like to give to someone who truly wanted her?
Henry stared at her like she was some indecipherable mystery, but his knee met the bed and his hands found her skin. Warmth spread across her as he filled the space between them. He took her into his arms.
“You’re screwing up all my plans, Nell.” He said the words, but she could feel a smile spread across his lips as he kissed her cheek.
“I don’t mean to.” She didn’t mean to screw up anything, but she really liked the way his arms curled around her. It felt like caring and protection. It utterly disarmed her. She had nothing to put up between them, no arguments, no talk. What could she say to him besides the obvious?
His forehead nestled against hers. “You might not mean to, but you’re the sweetest bundle of chaos I’ve ever come across. You’re like Pandora. I can’t fucking resist you. I think you might be my downfall.”
His hands came up and cupped her breasts and she couldn’t breathe, much less respond. And, quite frankly, she’d always appreciated the Pandora myth. In Greek mythology, Pandora had been the first woman, their Eve. She’d been the one to bring strife into the world, but also she’d been the one to save hope. Humans were nothing without some struggle. Humans fought and overcame and won. There was nothing without a fight.
Love was a fight. Love was something to work for. She wasn’t as naïve as everyone thought she was. She knew that even with a little luck, real love took work.
She wouldn’t get that from Henry. He would leave, but she could have connection, a momentary bond that could prove that love might happen to her someday. And even if it didn’t, she would know what it felt like because she thought she just might love Henry Flanders and that was a beautiful thing.
His lips found hers. She didn’t hesitate this time. She flowered open beneath him. She let him in, his tongue surging past her lips to find synchronicity with hers. His tongue rubbed, lighting her up. His mouth slanted over hers, his hands twisting her body in a sweetly bossy way.
Her nipples brushed against the light dusting of hair on his muscular chest. They flared, pointing out and becoming ridiculously sensitive. Every touch of his flesh seemed to run along her skin. He pulled her close, sweeping the space between them away, closing all distance. The slightly distracted man he’d been was gone, and now he seemed fully in the moment with her. All doubt washed away. This felt right.
She let her hands wander. He was a deliciously masculine playground. He had muscle after muscle, each one encased in smooth, perfect flesh. She explored his shoulders, so broad and straight. His arms curved, flowing from hard biceps into perfectly curved forearms. His chest was a marvel. He was a mystery, and she so wanted to solve him. She allowed her fingertips to brush his perfectly tight abs.
“Lower, Nell. Touch me.” Henry’s voice sounded slightly strangled. He took off his glasses and tossed them to the side.
He wanted her to touch his penis. She’d sort of kind of touched one before. Well, she’d felt one with undies between them, but she didn’t hesitate. Her hand knew just where it wanted to go. She stroked down his stomach to his penis.
“Touch my cock, Nell.”
His cock. He wasn’t polite. He didn’t just sit there and hope she did what he wanted. There was a sort of joy in that. She knew exactly what he wanted. She looked down between their bodies. His penis—his cock—was standing at attention, practically begging for a pet. Yes, she could please him. She could be enough for him. She let her palm enclose that big cock of his. So hard and yet so soft. Like the man.
“Fuck, that’s it. That feels good, Nell. Yeah. Stroke me.”
The deep timbre of his voice spurred her on. She liked this whole “talking during affection” thing. Before it had been awkward. She hadn’t known where to kiss or touch and she’d just kind of lain back and hoped for the best, but Henry told her what he wanted. He kind of demanded it, and she was happy to comply.
He’d spanked her and ordered her to undress, and he’d fought for her.
She knew it was wrong, but it felt right.
She stroked his cock, her fingers fumbling. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His face was a mask of arousal. “You won’t hurt me. A cock is solidly built, baby. Stroke me hard. Be rough. I’ll like it. I’m going to be a little rough with you. Not tonight, but later. Later, I’m going to play hard, Nell, but I promise I’ll make you like it. I’ll make you fucking crave it.”
She already craved him, and she hadn’t really had him yet. She gripped his cock harder, but even flexing her hand, she barely managed to close her palm around him.
He hissed slightly. “That’s it. Stroke me. Get me hard and ready to fuck.”
He seemed really hard. She wasn’t sure how much harder he could get, but she was game to try. She let her hand run the full, long length of his cock. She had zero real experience, but he was so lovely. She stared at the cock in her hand, studying it with eager eyes. Numerous anatomy classes hadn’t prepared her for just how pretty it was. A long purple vein throbbed under her palm. He was neatly trimmed, just a hint of hair that led down to his balls. Perfect round globes that sat tight against his body. He was perfect in every way.
“Lie back on the bed and spread your legs for me, Nell.” His voice had taken on that sweet, bossy tone she’d come to associate with his sexual arousal. And his protectiveness. They seemed to go hand in hand.
She let go of his cock. When he got that tone of voice, he meant business. It was the mistake she’d made at her cabin. She hadn’t handled him properly. She could see that now. Henry needed to be in charge of certain things, and when he wasn’t allowed to be, he struggled. He’d wanted to protect her, and she’d chosen to defer to the men she knew. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do, but Rye Harper had never picked her up and carried her down a hall. He’d never tossed her on a bed and demanded she undress.
She owed something to her lover, no matter how long she’d known him.
It took every ounce of bravery she had, but she spread her legs and let him see her core.
His hands found her ankles, brushing restlessly against them. His chest let loose a long, happy sigh as he stared right at that part of her that seemed to start so many political debates.
“Damn, you’re lovely.” He pressed on her ankles, pushing them up so her knees fell apart and she was fully on display. “I don’t understand how you could possibly be a virgin. How can no man have claimed this?”
“I didn’t want anyone until you.” She wouldn’t hide from him.
“I’m glad, baby.” His hands started a long, slow crawl up her legs, warming her skin everywhere he touched. “Tell me what you’ve done. You’ve kissed, right?”
Not like he kissed her, but she had done something that could be called kissing. “Yes.”
His hands were on her knees, moving to her thighs. “Had you ever touched a cock before? Ever taken one in your mouth?”