At the first touch of his tongue, she cried out. Her clutching fingers found a pillow and held on. It felt as though she was a raft in a storm, and he the rocking waves. She had been wound so tight that every tiny movement against her felt as though the pleasure was splitting her apart again.
“Like this?” he asked. “Tell me, Emily.”
“Like that,” she managed. “There. Keep going.”
“Mm.” He made a satisfied noise, as though he had not been content until he received her instruction. And when he returnedto her, it was with increased vigour. Her world turned to white, ripped apart at the seams, and her body rocked as he finally pushed her over the edge. Her climax washed over her. Waves and waves of it, the storm picking her up and tossing her across the seas until finally—finally—she reached the shore and came up for air.
Oliver climbed up her body, his hand resting lightly on her stomach, his nose pressing against her jaw. She turned, blindly seeking his mouth, and he offered it to her. He kissed her slowly, unhurriedly, though she could feel the urgency in the erection lying against her leg. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, knew objectively she was plain, and she had made her peace with that. Until now, she had never thought she felt a need to be anything more. But Oliver made her feel as though she could be—as though he truly believed her to be.
And so, in this moment with him, she was.
A little of the ice around her heart cracked.
“Thank you,” she said, drawing back.
He kissed her nose. “As always, you are very welcome. Especially if”—he rolled them so she lay across his body—“you might be inclined to please us both in return.”
“If I said no?”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I would beg. You’ve heard me often enough already today, but I would be amenable to more.”
“You don’t think it’s unbecoming for a man to beg for a woman in this way?” she asked seriously.
“Unbecoming? Darling, it’s one of the most arousing things to happen to me.” His hand slid up and down her side. “The only thing that would be unbecoming would be to break your trust.”
She kissed him then, as deeply as she could manage, and slid down onto his erection. He cupped her breast, and the feel of him, everywhere, was so good she felt as though she might cry.
Suddenly, she wanted more—more, more, more. She was greedy for it, needy for it, desperate for it. For him. Every single last bit of him that he gave her. She wanted it all.
He made a sound in the back of his throat, and she caught his lip between her teeth, biting it hard. A new wave of pleasure washed through her. Her climax had made her sensitive, but not so much that she couldn’t fathom bringing herself to another peak.
His eyes bored into her, holding her captive. “I won’t forget this until the day I die.”
“You’re too young to make such outlandish claims.”
His hand gripped her hip, not guiding but merely holding. “I’m not too young to know what I want.”
She dug her nails into his skin, holding on so tightly she thought she might draw blood. She wrapped a hand around his neck, needing to feel in control again. Everything was slipping, too bright and too fast, too wonderful for her to fight.
“Can I hold you here?” she asked, careful not to lean any of her weight on that hand.
His eyes were dark, and he brought his free hand to her wrist, encouraging her to apply more pressure. “I trust you.”
Such liberties. She could not have imagined taking them before—not with anyone else. Until now, she had not known such desires existed, had never suspected that such things took place in the bedchamber.
She squeezed her fingers, just a little. His breath rasped, and she felt it. Right there, she felt his life as clearly as she felt her own, and sheheld it. The magnitude of that thought overwhelmed her, brought to the edge in such a rush of slick desire that he gasped. He thrust up into her, his hips rolling in a surge of pleasure that scattered her thoughts. There was nothing in her world but him.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
His face was tight with strain, alive with desire. He was every perfect creation mankind had to offer, and just for now, for this one last precious moment, he washers. He had offered; she had taken.
Her heart clenched at the thought of the inevitable parting that would follow, and that was the moment her body chose to release its tension. She shuddered, eyes rolling back in her head, and Oliver kept going, kept obeying her demands until his own climax overtook him, and jerked free, withdrawing and finishing messily across his stomach.
Sweat misted them both. As he panted, she flopped beside him and slid her fingers down the long column of his throat—the one she had held and squeezed and felt his life beat through just moments ago—to his chest and the ragged pounding of his heart. It matched hers.
“I never thought I would do this again,” she murmured.
He cocked a brow. “Do what? Lie with a man?” His gaze sharpened. “Or lie with me?”
