“Sure am.” He smirks, watching my breaths and matching the speed of his finger to my needs. I writhe under him, trying to bring his mouth to mine. He presses a kiss to the corner of my lips, and it’s not enough. A whimper escapes, and he chuckles, brushing his nose down the nape of my neck. Nipping and licking along the way.
He keeps to his quiet exploration of my body as my breaths slow and the pressure between my thighs becomes unbearable.
“Seth.” His name escapes in an exalting breath.
“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.” He pauses on my stomach, biting the skin below my belly button, and I let out a little yelp.
In the past three weeks, we’ve done this dance far more times than my dignity would care to admit, but never with him this open with his feelings for me. It’s an odd comfort to have him on this side with me like suddenly the flames licking and singing all of my nerve ends aren’t as dangerous like they’re no longer an uncontained wildfire, but the life-giving warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth in an icy world.
With a slow drag of his finger, he pulls out the one teasing my apex and pins a heated stare on me. Uh oh.
“Suck on my fingers, Madeline.” He puts them near my mouth.
“What? No way.” I laugh.
“I’m just doing what you asked for,” he says in a low murmur.
I sit up a bit, meeting his fingers and wrapping my mouth around them. Sweetness and a little salt hit my tastebuds. “Do you see how good you taste?” he asks as he pulls my fingers out in a slow, agonizing manner.
I whimper as the pads of his middle and forefinger drag across my lower lip, and the urge to be satisfied becomes almost unbearable.
“I’m famished for it.” His eyes twinkle with that power I’ve grown accustomed to, and suddenly I don’t fear it. He drags my legs to the edge of the bed, burying his head between my thighs.
I let out a shuddering gasp when his tongue finds my clit and lashes against it. Lines of mirth edge his eyes and deepen with each reaction his tongue against my bud elicits. Clutching his silky curls, I mutter my praises for him.
“Seth—I—” I stutter, fighting against my last wall of defense. I want to let go and be totally vulnerable, let myself be a writhing, whimpering mess, undone by his mouth. But there’s still the part of me that doesn’t find doing something like that particularly easy.
“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” he whispers like he knows what’s on my mind. “I promise, whatever shit we’re doing, however much we play, you will always be safe with me. Now, surrender to me, Madeline, please. Please give me that. I need it.”
Seth’s words are exactly what I need to drop that last wall because I’ll do just about anything to make him happy.
His warm mouth wraps around my clit, and that’s enough to break me.
With a whimper, I writhe underneath him, fisting the sheets. “Fuck, Seth. I love you so fucking much. Please. Pressure. Please.” I beg.
He slips a finger into my entrance, flickering on my g-spot, but it’s not enough. “More, please.”
“Patience, Buttercup. I can’t stretch you out all at once. You know that.”
“I don’t care what I can’t do. I need you.”
I’m out of my head, devoid of thought, and every part of me is burning with the need to be pile driven by that man. My libido is at war with any form of common sense I own, but I don’t care.
There will be times when the pain outweighs my needs that I choose it instead, but there are times too, when what I want and need seem greater, and that’s my choice. I get to control this aspect, even when I can’t control other parts.
And right now, when I’m so fucking alive and threatening to collapse into an uncontrollable horny mess, that’s the decision I want to make.
“I don’t want your fingers. I need you,” I whimper. “Please.”
He flicks his tongue, too slow, too little pressure and I tighten and writhe under him, breathing heavily with Seth’s name and tongue the only thing on my mind.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He shakes his head, pressing his hand into my hip bone, and I can’t handle not being filled with him anymore. It’s literal torture.
“Seth.” I reach out, trying to present a coherent argument for Team Fuck-Me. “This damn thing has taken so much from me, and sometimes I want to take something back. I want to be with you right now. You and I know there’s a ring inside that drawer you sometimes use to help, please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
