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His hand gently stroking her, the press of his muscular body. The heat of him. The hard length of his shaft pressing against the material of his trousers and into her palm. A big man in every way.
She’d lost her virginity to her first boyfriend in her last year of high school. It had been a very disappointing and embarrassing ten minutes in the back of his car and she hadn’t been in any hurry to repeat the experience. But then she’d met Clayton and...
Well. She and Clayton had never got this far, and she’d told herself it was because she’d wanted to wait, but now she knew that was a lie. She’d never wanted to wait. She’d never wanted Clayton at all. Not as she wanted this man, this stranger who’d rescued her unconscious from a rainy street. Who’d held her hand and cared enough about her to make sure she was okay. Who’d made her feel more wanted than anyone else ever had in her entire life.
Perhaps that was why she’d found the courage to pull the tie on her dressing gown, baring herself to him. That and the look in his eyes.Why don’t you show me, instead?he’d ordered and all she’d been able to think about was yes, yes, she wanted to show him. She wanted him to see her.
Her courage had left her for a second the moment her gown had fallen open, but then he’d taken her chin in his hand and turned her back to face him, his silvery gaze electric, blazing with fire. There had been no doubt that he’d liked what he saw and he’d wanted her to know that too.
Now she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more than to strip away the confining material of her dressing gown. Pull open his shirt, touch his skin. Be naked with him. They’d both been intending to have sex so why not? They could have it now, right here, she didn’t care. She’d have him any way he wanted it.
Nell moaned into his mouth as his hand slid from her breast down over her stomach, fingertips grazing the curls between her thighs. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, hardly aware she’d even spoken. ‘Oh, yes, please...’
He gave another of those deep, sexy growls and then his fingertips were sliding over the slick, sensitive skin of her sex, exploring, stroking, teasing. She shuddered and, without thought, reached for the button of his fly, desperate to touch him as he was touching her. But then he growled again, pulling away, and before she could process what was going on, he’d dropped to his knees in front of her.
She barely had time to gasp before his hands gripped her hips, pinning her hard against the door, and his mouth was on her stomach, licking a slow, lazy path down to where she was hot and wet, and so needy she thought she’d die.
He held her against the wood, nuzzling against her, licking, exploring, tasting. Then his tongue found the most sensitive part of her and flicked over it, making her shudder and shake. Her hands were buried in his hair, the thick black strands silky against her fingers, and she gripped him tight, unable to hold in the sounds he brought from her.
No one had ever touched her like this, tasted her like this.
No one had ever made her the sole focus of their attention.
No one had ever made her feel as if she was being slowly and thoroughly worshipped, as if they couldn’t get enough of her.
No one had ever made her feel as if she might die from pleasure.
Her eyes drifted closed, colours swirling behind her closed lids as everything inside her drew tight, as if she were an arrow about to be launched into the sky.
‘That’s it,’ she heard him murmur, his breath against her skin as she trembled. ‘Scream for me, woman. Scream, so I can hear it.’
Then he did something with his tongue and she did scream, pleasure unleashing in a wild storm through her body, her cries echoing in the small space of the hallway as the orgasm took her.
She was still panting, wondering how on earth she was standing upright, when his hands slid beneath her thighs and she was lifted against the door as if she weighed nothing. He pinned her there with his body, holding her pressed to the wood effortlessly, and his hand was back between her thighs, touching her, stroking her back into trembling hunger once again. Then he pulled open his fly, spread her delicately with his fingers before pushing into her slowly, so very slowly.
His silver gaze didn’t leave hers, pinning her as surely as his body, holding her mesmerised as she felt her body open for him, stretching to take him. She groaned, nothing but the feel of him inside her, a heavy, aching fullness that made her want to pant and claw at his back.
‘You are perfect.’ His voice was raw, guttural, and he bent, his teeth grazing the tender skin of her shoulder, making her shiver in delight. ‘Absolutely perfect.’
She had never felt perfect. She’d always felt as if there was something missing, something that made her less interesting, less intriguing, less worthy almost, than her cousins. They were mystified by her, and so were her aunt and uncle. Sometimes she felt as if they didn’t know what to do with her and—worse—weren’t interested in finding out, so they just left her to her own devices.
Now, even though her towel had fallen from her head and her wet hair was draped like seaweed across her shoulders, and her dressing gown was half off, she didn’t feel uninteresting or unworthy. She didn’t feel as if she was missing something.
She felt beautiful. As if she really was as perfect as he’d told her she was.
Nell squeezed her legs around his waist, pulled his shirt half open and slid her hands inside it, feeling the hot velvet of his skin. He was all hard muscle, the crisp brush of hair, and he smelled spicy and musky and male, and she was desperate for him.
He was perfect too.
Then he began to move and everything slid away. Her embarrassment and shame at Clayton’s no-show. Her anger at Aristophanes’ overbearing manner. Her self-consciousness and fear that this would end the way so many of her relationships with people had ended, with her not being enough for anyone... They all vanished. There was no room for them, not when the pleasure inside her was growing and filling every space.
A part of herself she’d never realised she had, a more primal part, began to take over. It was hungry and passionate, with no inhibitions. It only wanted more of the pleasure he was giving her, making her sink her nails into his back and moan as he moved deeper, harder.
But while she might have lost all sense, he apparently hadn’t, because she felt him slide one of his hands behind her head, cupping the base of her skull in his large, warm palm, projecting her injury as he moved inside her.
For a second Nell loved him for that. Then the knife edge of pleasure grew sharper, and she felt again the tightness gather, the bow being drawn back, ready to launch her into the sky. He shifted, changing his angle, the friction so perfect it brought tears to her eyes, and then the tightness inside her was released and she was flying, soaring into the sky in a wild, glorious rush. Dimly she heard him say her name in a low, guttural roar before he too joined her in the sky.
Time passed as she floated slowly back down to earth, both of them still leaning against her bedroom door locked together as if nothing could tear them apart, their breathing slowly easing.