Castiel groaned and trailed one finger down the curve of my spine. “I’d kiss each and every knob of your spine. I’d bend you over, I’d run my tongue over your shoulder blades, I’d get to know every curve of your back. And then I’d go lower.”
“Do I look strange to you?” I panted, face turned toward him and fingers still thumbing and tweaking my nipples. “No wings?”
“I’ve never seen this much of a person’s back,” he answered, running a hand down the center. The pressure and sweep of his warmth made me shiver, and I almost begged him to do it again. “It’s…different.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Titillating.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d been anxious about not measuring up to his previous lovers, since my body was so different, but somehow I both resented my appearance and worried it wouldn’t be enough for him.
Something must’ve crossed my face, because he gently rolled me onto my back again, then ran his fingers through my hair. It was a gentle touch, at odds with the fire building in my belly. “You’re perfect—every piece of you.”
I smiled, even though my cheeks heated at the unexpected compliment.
Castiel helped undress me, dragging my dress down my body, lifting my hips and then my thighs as needed, but he didn’t linger, didn’t touch my skin the way I yearned for. He made quick work of my corset, too. Eventually I lay on his bed in only my shift, my hair fanning around my head like a halo.
He sucked in a breath, running his fingers through my hair as I had run mine through his feathers. Appreciation filled his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. Then his eyes drifted down my body, lingering on my full breasts and the tight drape of the muslin shift against my hips. I glanced down and realized the shift was thin enough for him to make out the size and shape of my peaked nipples. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve felt exposed and vulnerable.
But the way his hands fisted the bedlinens and his pupils dilated even wider, I instead felt something else. I didn’t know what to call it, but it was something soft and strong at the same time.
“Now,” he directed hoarsely, “draw your shift up. Fast or slow, it doesn’t matter. Whichever speed will increase your pleasure. That’s it,” he crooned. “Skies, Lily, if you could feel how hard my cock is, just at the sight of those calves.” His dilated eyes were frozen on my body. “Higher, yes, higher. That’s right, a little higher. Let me see. I’d do anything to see more of you.”
I bit my lip, watching his face. He seemed like he was getting pleasure out of this, and I liked the feeling, as if it was light and we were two mirrors, the passion growing as it reflected between us. So I reached down with one hand, arching my back, and caught the hem of my shift around my knees. I pulled it up slowly, slowly, slowly, revealing one inch at a time.
He looked like he was in pain, his eyes fixed on the hem of my shift. His knuckles whitened as he fisted the bedlinens ever harder.
My breathing was loud and ragged, and I thought his was, too.
It felt like a wonderful dream, someone learning and seeing me. I turned my worries away, muted the whispers that told me this was temporary, and for once—just this one time—I welcomed the joy of being known.
I spread my thighs an inch, and he groaned again.
“Look at me. Look at my face while you expose yourself. Don’t look away. Do you see what you’re doing to me? Keep going,” he urged. “You’ll like the next part.”
I liked this part, too, but I didn’t bother telling him. Finally my shift bunched around my waist, and I was bare from my navel to my toes. My thighs were slick with need, and I feared when I got up his bed would have a wet spot.
“Skies, you smell so good.”
His desperation, so tightly reined in, made my arousal soar. I whimpered, rolling my hips.
“You’re in control,” he gasped. “You can give yourself relief.”
My hands drifted downward, and he nodded in approval.
“Spread your legs a little wider, cirra. Oh, your scent is the perfume I’ve craved.”
I’d never felt so powerful. I slid my fingers through the wisps of blond maidenhair, then down in between my legs. I was hot, swollen, and aching to be touched. A mewl escaped my clenched teeth as my index and middle fingers dipped further down, getting to know the folds of my skin and eventually the sheathe that created all this wetness. I’d never felt quite brave enough to do this before tonight.
“Get to know how you like it,” Castiel whispered. “Yes, drag your fingers back and forth.” His wings stiffened, then he consciously relaxed them. “And your cunny. Yes, play with yourself. Your body is designed for you. Learn it, feel it, make it sing for you.”
My eyes rolled back in my head as I followed his instructions. I inserted one finger inside me, getting to know the ridged contours within my sex.
“Can you get another finger in there?”
I obeyed, gasping. “It’s so tight.”
“I know, I know,” he panted, muscles tensed and tendons straining. He looked like a man being tortured. “But you can do it. I know you can, I know your sweet little hole can take more. Spread your fingers, then curl them. Find out what makes you feel stars.”
Desire drove me higher and higher, like I was pushing something up a hill, pressure expanding through my body. When my fingers were wet, I dragged them up to a spot that pulsed and begged for touch.
“Ah, yes.” Castiel lowered his body until he could peer between my legs, jaw tight and eyes focused as if all matters of life or death lay between my thighs. “Stroke your pearl.”
