He wished, in that moment, that he was a different sort of man. One who knew the right words, could spout a line or two of poetry.
“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, chérie? What is it?”
His hand cradled her throat as she swallowed. “I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“What I was missing.”
“This is good? When I touch you?”
“Better than good.”
His smile was satisfied as he ran his hand from her nape, along that braid, and down her back, where it brushed a bandage.
Everything stopped.
Everything except for the pop of the fire and the crazed whimpers she made while she rocked against him.
He blinked, reality setting back in. Her scent and her taste and the sight of her eager and open had made him forget those marks on her back.
He sat still, upended and suspended—on the cusp of so many things.
Breathing hard, he waited, cock pulsing, painfully close to that tight, hot promise.
He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know when he asked, “Will you tell me what they did to you?”
“Right now? That would kind of ruin the moment, wouldn’t it?” She gave him a forced-looking smile.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Abby.”
She shook her head. “You won’t.”
“How can you be su—”
Her weight shifted, and she leaned into him, hands tight on his shoulders, face inches away. “I know what it’s like, Luc, to be taken without an ounce of excitement or desire. I know how it feels to be a duty and nothing else. To be used for my body in the worst possible way.” Those strange animal eyes caressed his face. “Could we stop talking about this? I want to do something for the sheer pleasure of it. At least once in my life.” God, how could she be so innocent and yet not? He couldn’t get his mind around that.
“But what of”—he grazed her shoulder with his thumb—“what of your back?”
“Can we do…” She paused and looked to the side, awkward for the first time since they’d started. “When you…licked me. It didn’t hurt.”
On a hot exhalation, Luc reached up and tweaked her nipple—just a little. “Does that hurt?”
She shivered and shook her head, her gaze glued to his hand as it slid down to cup her sex, where his fingers found her clit and circled it. He watched the goose bumps perk up across her skin.
“What about this?” he whispered, entranced by her reactions. She was so pure in her pleasure.
A lowohemerged from her half-open mouth.
“Hein? What, Abby?” he teased, taking hold of her hips to line her up with the outline of his cock and slide against her, up and back. The movement was so wonderfully sexual that it made him want more—he wanted to see.
“It’s good. So good.” As if reading his mind, she reached for the blanket separating them and tugged it down, lifting herself up to shove it out of the way. When she sank back down, her bare, slick heat slid against his cock with explicit perfection, and he thought he’d die. The woman needed no direction. She put her hands on his chest and slid up and back, up and back, each slide bringing him closer to coming.
He eventually tore his attention away from the silky glide of their sexes long enough to take in her face.
“You’re beautiful, Abby. So beautiful.”
“I want…” She was out of breath, her eyes vague.
