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Silas slid her onto her back, and kneeling between her spread legs, blew out a whistle of admiration.

She didn’t feel embarrassed to be so exposed to him, but her body felt open in an unexpectedly vulnerable way.

As if sensing her thoughts, Silas smiled softly at her.

She felt herself blush as his fingers brushed the springy hair between her legs, then, so gently, traced the seam of her vulva.

She watched his face, awed and slack with desire, and felt her insides liquify.

She hadn’t known that another could care about the sheen of her skin, the flush of desire along the line of her lips, didn’t know someone might sweep a finger so gently along the slippery edge of her sex, watching her reaction or the movement of his finger so intently.

She hadn’t known. And yet, there was no other person she could ever imagine doing this with, being seen and touched like this.

She felt herself combust under his gentle ministrations, the heat of his curiosity and intent.

Silas muttered, “God damn, Fee,” then pressed a little more firmly to spread her labia and circle her entrance. Desire, sharp as the bite of a whip, hit her, and she bowed up off the bed.

“That’s a good spot, then,” said Silas half to himself, half to her, and a smile hitched up one corner of his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” Ophelia said, dazedly, settling back into the eiderdown, wriggling her bottom closer to Silas’s knees.

She felt his thick finger circle her entrance more firmly, then sink into her.

The feeling was indescribable. Lovely, invasive, thrilling.

Everything whittled away until nothing remained but his finger moving inside her, his thumb sliding upward against her clitoris.

Her breath rattled through her, passing her lips in sharp huffs.

Silas was growling low in his chest, possessive and possessed.

He took himself in his free hand, and Ophelia watched spellbound as his hand shuttled up and down his thick length, wondering at the mechanics of what they were about to do.

She could see the shimmer of moisture at the tip of his cock, feel the unsteady rock of his hips against his hand, and suddenly could wait no longer.

She reached for him, fingers skating over his hips, bending her legs to make room for him.

“Fee,” he ground out. “I’m so ready, will you have me?”

She nodded, her blood hazy with desire and nerves.

He slid his hands under her bottom and scooted her toward him.

Still kneeling, he notched himself at her entrance, muttering, “So fucking beautiful, Fee. I wish you could see yourself, see us.” And then he was pushing forward, gently rocking the head of his cock, smooth and hard, into her.

She froze suddenly, waves of sensation lapping at every atom of her being.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered. He stilled instantly, one hand at her hip, one still gripping himself.

“Have I been too rough? I’m sorry. God ... I feel appallingly clumsy,” Silas said, his eyes cataloguing her face, concerned. He brought one hand up to stroke her cheek, feathering over her skin. “We can stop, Fee. Everything’s moving so fast, maybe we should slow down.”

“No,” Ophelia said, more sharply than she meant to. “I mean, no, you haven’t hurt me or pushed me. I want to do this Silas. With you.” She took in a shaky breath. “I meant my heart. Please don’t hurt my heart.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and she didn’t know what she hoped he would say. I’m already in too deep, she thought; this is going to hurt no matter what happens.

She cupped Silas’s hand, still resting against her cheek. “Please, let’s not stop now.”

Silas nodded and slipped a hand between them.

After a moment of searching, he found her clit, his blunt finger stroking and circling, clumsy and not quite right at first, but he was as good as his word, listening to her body and the sounds she made, and suddenly it was right, the thread of desire in her belly winding more and more tightly.

A low animal sound of satisfaction grew in her throat, humming and growling out of her before she could stop it.

Silas smiled and kissed her and she thought she might die of the pleasure of his hands on her, the pleasure of being wanted, of being seen.

“So soft,” he muttered against her neck, kissing and nipping at the skin behind her ear, then the smooth curve of her collarbone. “I want to run my mouth over every inch of your skin. Fuck, Ophelia, you taste so good, like sunshine and honey and I don’t know ... happiness.”

His lips moved over her chest, down into the smooth valley between her breasts, frantic, reverent.

He stroked a hand up her ribs, testing the silk of skin over bone, then cupped the heaviness of her breast in one large hand.

He ran a knuckle, then a palm over her nipple, drawing a pleased gasp from her when it tightened to a hard knot.

Everything felt like pure sensation; there seemed to be no difference between she and Silas’s bodies, his touch and her flesh melded together in one symphony of call and response.

She moaned and pushed her breast up into his hand, wanting to feel the rough skin of his palm against her nipple again, wanting to feel possessed, desired.

She could feel his erection, hard and silky against her centre and an echoing hollowness, a wanting so deep it felt like a cave in her chest.

“Now, Silas, please . . . now.”

He pushed forward, his hand on her hip trembling, his sharp white teeth biting into his bottom lip.

Fire circled her entrance, hot and keen, then sweet and liquid, every infinitesimal thrust from Silas making more room for himself until he was fully seated in her.

And then the magic began. The drag and slide of his cock inside her stunned Ophelia, rearranged her molecules, every nerve in her body rising to the surface until she was alight with sensation.

Silas worked himself against her, experimenting with depth and speed, hissing when she wrapped a leg around his hips to pull him deeper.

Ophelia tried to concentrate on how everything felt, but Silas was kissing her neck and palming her breast, picking up speed with his thrusts, and she spun away on a river of pleasure.

She could feel her orgasm coiling low in her belly, gathering strength when Silas rubbed against her in just the right way, but he was growing uncoordinated, and just as the sensation began to unfurl, he pulled out of her.

“Finish together?” he panted.

She nodded, so relieved that Silas had kept his head when she had been so swamped by sensation and lost to reason that she didn’t immediately register his suggestion.

But when he raised an eyebrow suggestively at her and stroked himself long and slow, she quickly caught up.

Sliding a hand between them, she worked herself, the rhythm of her circles almost matching Silas’s strokes.

And then they were coming, her fingers slipping against her swollen clitoris, Silas’s hips jerking, his eyes hawk-like on her hand.

He moaned softly and sank against her, their chests heaving, bellies sticky with Silas’s orgasm, Ophelia’s hand still pressed between her legs.

Silas stroked down her waist and hip in long, gentle caresses, his fingers lingering in the hollow of her hip.

“Thank you,” he whispered against her skin.