Page 71 of Silas

“That,” he says. “Was an orgasm.”

taste and touch

Silas

Ican’t quite believe she let me do that. I have her incredible, perfect, beautiful naked body in my arms, heaving shuddering breaths, sobs and paroxysms still wracking her body. Her flesh is flushed pink all over, purest porcelain made into warm skin. Her pert little nipples are hard against my chest. She’s trembling, still.

I want more.

I want to make her come again. Taste the sweet honey of her pussy again. Make her scream again.

I don’t even need to get off, myself. I just want to devour her until pleasure is all she knows.

I let my hands wander, skating down her ribs, her waist, to her hips. God, for a skinny, slender, malnourished little thing she sure does have a killer fucking body.

I’m obsessed.

She slowly stops shaking and whimpering. “Silas, I…”

I kiss the top of her head. “What, honey? Tell me.”

She shakes her head, hot breath huffing over my chest. “I just…that was…incredible.”

“It was just the beginning, Naomi.”

I feel her blush, sense it in the way she burrows her face harder against my chest.

I chuckle, loving her adorable shyness, especially in stark counterpoint to the wildcat ferocity of her need, her boldness in the heat of the moment.

After a few more minutes, she lifts up on her elbows, her silver eyes liquid, like quicksilver. Her cheeks are flushed, and a small smile meant just for me lights me up from within.

“Silas?” She asks, her voice a shy whisper.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

“What…” She ducks her head, embarrassed. “What do I…taste like?” She nuzzles my throat, hiding. “Down there.”

I laugh. Roll her to her back and lean over her. Press a ghost-soft kiss to her lips as I slide my middle finger over the delicate, plump pink lips of her pussy—she shudders, curling in on herself with a gasp. I slide my finger inside her, all the way into her tight channel, gathering her essence.

“Ohh,” she whimpers, crushing my hand with her thighs for a moment before forcing herself to relax, and then she opens herself for me, spreading her thighs apart.

My god, her willingness to trust me after all she’s been through is fucking humbling.

I add a second finger, my ring finger, inside her. She moans, a long low sound from the base of her throat. Her hips lift.

Fuck, she’s so goddamn responsive, so sensitive. My cock is so hard it hurts, but I ignore it. This isn’t about me, it’s not for me. It’s for her.

She’s slick with arousal, fairly dripping with it, and my fingers glide deep and I curl them to massage inside her until she writhes and lifts against my touch, and then I withdraw and slide them back in. Again, and again, driving in with both fingers until my knuckles press against her lips and then back out, setting a rhythm, slow at first, but increasing in speed.

When she whimpers aloud once more, I press my thumb against the taut pink nub of her clit—she cries out, keening as an orgasm begins to take over. I keep the pace slow, rolling my thumb over her clit in gentle rubbing waves. Her thighs press together, her legs scissoring and her belly sucking in, her breasts shaking as her whole body begins to heave.

Fuck yes. I feel like the luckiest man alive, to get to show her this, to have the privilege of touching her, of being the one to show her what true bliss feels like.

Faster, then. As she responds to my touch. I draw it out, edging her away when she’s at the cusp of orgasm, only to drive her to the brink again right away.

I feel her channel tighten around my fingers, and I watch her body buck, her breasts bouncing as she cries out with unbridled ecstasy.

Then, finally, she breaks. A scream scrapes out of her throat, and her pussy clamps hard around my fingers, pulsating as she comes.