She was ready for anything. If he wanted—if he really wanted, she’d let him have it all, misgivings or no. He’d taken such good care of her body so far. Who was she not to trust him with it now?
He lifted his hips and pressed his brow to the pillow beside her head, breathing fast and shallow against her hair. Everything inside her tensed as he shifted his hand, sliding it along the top of her thigh.
When the heel of his hand connected with where she was desperate and aching, she nearly screamed with the relief of it.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “God, I bet you’re soaked. You’re burning up, aren’t you? Just waiting for me to take you over.”
“Please.” She was shocked to hear the plea fall from her lips. “No one’s ever— I’m—” Close. Scared. It was hot and vulnerable, shaking apart like this inside a man’s arms, letting him see all these pieces of her as they broke, their hidden facets exposed.
“Shh.” He made his way to her mouth again, kissing her softly but with no less heat. “I’ve got you.”
But his reassurances didn’t soothe anything at all. Her legs were stiff with how long she’d been tensing, waiting to fall, but all his rubbing at her through her jeans only made her need coil tighter without any of that sweet unfurling of release. If she could just get her own hands on herself . . .
For one hysterical second, she thought about faking it, the way she’d been so tempted to in the past.
But then he was kissing down her body, undoing the fasteners of her jeans.
“What are you—” she started, but it was a stupid question.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” He had the side of his face mashed up against her stomach, his long fingers parting her zipper. Brushing against the fabric underneath.
She didn’t want to pretend to come. She didn’t want to lie.
He turned, burying his mouth and his eyes against her skin. “You’re aching for it. I can feel it. God, let me do this for you.”
What was left for her to do but nod?
As if he’d been dying to do it, he tore her pants down her legs, cursing in frustration when he got to her shoes. Somehow he got them shoved off, and they bounced across the carpet to the other side of the room, followed by her pants, and then he was hooking fingers into the lace at the hem of her panties.
Shooting one last glance up at her, he peeled them down.
Naked but for her bra, she felt even more uncomfortable and vulnerable. Weird and cold, and her breath was shaking as she tried to close her legs. He wasn’t having any of that, though.
More tenderly than she would have imagined, he parted her thighs. Put his palm to the place where her leg met her torso.
The first swipe of his thumb over the length of her slit was a bright burst of pleasure, almost like pain, it was so sharp. Her leg jerked, and she reached to try to still his hand, but then he shifted, getting his fingers into the mix. They were softer as they spread her open, and she forced herself to breathe. To relax.
And then he moved in with his tongue.
“Oh God.” It was warm and wet, like she remembered, but instead of just spelling out his English homework, this man moved around. He touched and licked, across the less sensitive side of her clit and then at the point where everything was too intense.
Then he found the right spot, and her whole abdomen went molten.
“Rylan—”
Without shifting from her sex, he reached up for her hands. Put one in his hair and grasped the other one tightly, and it gave her something to hold on to. A way to be grounded when words had left her, everything had left her. Everything but the sweet pulsing and the building wave.
Over and over, he lapped at her, through each false start, when she was so close she swore she could taste it, only to have it slip away and leave her panting and frustrated. She whined and clutched him tight, probably pulling too hard at his scalp, but he hummed and dove in more hungrily, nuzzling and kissing, licking and sucking.
Tensing hard, she pushed into his touch, into the eager heat of his mouth, and it was there—right there. Warm fingers pressed against her opening, then just inside.
Her eyes snapped open, and her whole body arched, and she reached—reached—
“Rylan—”
God, it wasn’t a wave. It was a tsunami and relief and this crashing, incredible, pulsing oblivion. She shattered, over and over again, swearing out loud and groaning his name, and just wanting him to keep her right there. Against his tongue and his kiss and this trust. This promise.
That he had fulfilled.
When the fire and blackness and flesh-ripe taste of fruit inside her mouth collapsed, she opened her eyes, twitching at the few last laps he took across her clit. She drew her hand from his hair and, too sensitive, nudged at his head to try to get him to stop. Pressing upward with his fingers, he placed one more kiss to her sex before pulling away. Another aftershock rocked through her, only to be followed by a dull emptiness when he withdrew.
Rising up onto his knees, he was a vision, all bare skin to his waist, lips and fingers slick from what he’d given her. He dragged the back of his wrist over his mouth, and she whimpered. For a second, he closed his eyes, tilting his head upward as if he were appealing to a deity. When he looked to her again, his gaze was burning, a hunger so intense it sent a lick of misgiving curling up her spine. She moved to close her legs but he was still between them.
“You have no idea how sexy that was,” he said. He ran his hand down his torso, skimming it over the bulge in his jeans, and something inside of her clenched down again.
She’d do something for him. He’d probably want to be inside of her, and she could do that. If he insisted. It was only fair.
But as he looked down at her, he seemed to recognize the uncertainty tugging at her heart. He hung his head a little, shifting forward, moving to put one knee to the outside of her hip while the other one stayed planted firmly between her thighs. His thumb and forefinger played at the button of his pants. “I want to come so bad.”
“Yeah. We can—” She reached forward to help him.
He shook his head. “Not until you’re ready, beautiful.”
Still, he pulled at the fastener and lowered the zip. She watched, frozen, in a bizarre kind of fascination as he slipped his hand inside, groaning loudly as his wrist disappeared beneath the waistband.
And he was going to— Oh God, he was. Through the fabric, his hand moved, and she shook her head.
“Want to see.”
She’d never witnessed a man touching himself before, and the idea made her tingle, even as sated as she was.
He didn’t ask if she was sure. Everything about him was glazed with arousal, and he was looking straight at her as he pushed his pants and underwear down around his hips. Pulled himself out.
And it shouldn’t have been so hot, but there he was, muscles standing out in stark relief, gaze black with lust, and his cock— She sucked a breath and pulled her lip into her mouth. He was flushed, long and thick, glistening at the tip with fluid.
“See how hard that made me?” he asked, voice husky and dark. “Eating you out. You taste so good, and the noises you make—” He cut himself off with a moan as he took a long stroke down his length with his palm. The foreskin retracted back, revealing more of the head. He took his other hand, still wet with her, and slipped it around the shining skin at the end, leaving it slicker. “Fuck.”
In a punishing rhythm, he thrust his hips into his fist. She lay there, frozen in a sort of fascinated awe. Groaning long and deep, he threw his head back, squeezing out more liquid from his slit.