Page 40 of Inez

"I like being naked with you, Ren," I breathe.

"The way you touch me, Soph, it’s…” his eyes close, and I could be mistaken but it almost seems like he's close to tears himself. "It's heaven."

"I'm sorry I can't give you more yet," I say.

He touches my lips. "No. None of that. No more apologies. Not ever. Whatever you feel comfortable with is all I want or need. I'm perfectly content just like this. But if you want more, you have only to ask."

"Maybe…" I lick my lips, letting out a nervous breath. "Maybe just kiss me? But…like this. Not…I don't think I can be on my back just yet.”

He nuzzles my mouth with his. "I could kiss you for the rest of eternity, my darling."

I open my mouth to his, bury my fingers in his damp hair at the back of his head.

I lose track of time, then. It begins slowly. Delicate and subtle, tender and soft and hesitant. It builds slowly. From a series of lip-touches with the occasional questing tongue, it becomes a slide of mouth on mouth, tongues tangling as we battle for breath. And then it becomes hungry and wild, frantic—on my part at least. I am frantic for him, for the intimacy of kissing him, as if I can find the release I need simply by kissing.

I can't, however.

I need more.

I want more.

I pull my hips away, clutch his hand, guide it down between us. "Touch me, Ren. Please. I want to try again."

He brings our hands back up, presses my hand to his lips. His eyes are dark and deep and burgeoning with love as he presses my hand to his face and then drives his down between our bodies. He holds my eyes with his as he feathers a ghostly brush of a fingertip over my seam. I gasp, my eyes going wide. This gets me a hot grin.

"I've barely touched you, and you're gasping for me," he murmurs.

"It feels good."

"Guide me," he says. "Tell me what you like, what you want. Teach me how to pleasure you, Sophia, so I can make you weep with ecstasy unlike anything you've ever felt."

He drags that one thick, clever finger up my seam, and down, and up, and down, again and again, and each time he fits it ever so slightly deeper between my nether lips. With each pass, my breath comes quicker, until I’m panting rapidly as his finger finally, finally delves deep into my pulsing, drenched channel.

"You're wet for me, Sophia," he murmurs. "Wet and tight."

"Oh god, Ren, the way you touch me. It's so good." I close my eyes, feeling the tension in my shoulders, in my belly, in my thighs. I focus on his touch, will my muscles to relinquish their tension.

I start with my toes, my feet, my calves. Imagine them melting into the bed. My thighs. My hips. My belly. Hands, arms, shoulders—melting, dissolving, disappearing.

There is no me. No past. No trauma. Only Ren, only his touch. Only the pleasure of his finger swiping deep inside me, slicking out and smearing my wetness over my hard, sensitive little clit, buried within the hood of soft, tender skin.

Now, I lose myself.

I knot my fingers in Ren’s hair and pull him to me. Gasp against his mouth as heat and pressure build inside me, ratcheting with each swipe, circle, and delve of his finger.

I'm panting and whimpering now, and my hips begin to lift, to press into his touch as my climax at long last shudders through me. Or, the beginnings of one, at least.

It is merely a tremor, at first. My breath hitches, and my hips spasm, bucking up against his touch. He devours my mouth, his tongue insistently driving against mine as he drives his finger inside me, withdraws it to circle my clit faster and faster and faster until I'm trying desperately to fuck his finger.

The heat and pressure inside me become unbearable, the need to reach release all-consuming.

"Ren!" I cry. "Oh god, oh god,Ren, I—I need…"

"What, love? Tell me so I can give it to you."

"I need to come but I can't!"

He slows his touch but doesn't stop; he pulls back so he can meet my eyes. "Do you trust me?"