Panting, I try to pull one of my hands free and growl in frustration when I can’t move. “Just one,” I beg. “Let me have one hand—it’ll be good for both of us, I promise.”
He stares down at me, his demanding need fighting against his reluctant curiosity.
The latter wins out, releasing one of my hands. He pants heavily and watches my hand slide up my body. My fingers graze along my cheeks, stopping at my lips and slipping into my mouth. His husky groan harmonizes with my feral moans as I suck on my fingers, creating the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard.
My eyes lazily open to find his attention fully on me. With a satisfied smile, I gently brush my fingers further down, pausing to tease my peaked nipple, before making my way back down to the apex of my thighs.
Swirling my fingers through my arousal, I brush against his cock and make him grunt. He watches every movement as I spread my wetness up to my clit and start rubbing myself with small circular motions to match the speed of his hips.
“Good fucking girl,” he muses and slaps my ass again. “Now do as I say—come on my cock.”
My head bobs in confirmation. Words are beyond me now. With the attention on my clit, I’m quick to follow instructions this time. The pleasure hits a peak that has me bowing off the bed and tightening my legs around his waist.
“Archer,” I moan. His name continues to fall off my lips as I come down from the euphoric high. I’m in no rush to lose this connection between us. “Archer, baby.”
He’s fucking me through my orgasm despite the vice-like grip my pussy has on him. Until those words slip off my tongue.
One second of mindless affection has him letting out a guttural, masculine sound as he quickly pulls out of me and leans over my chest. Taking himself in hand, he strokes his cock a few times before the swollen tip explodes with his cum.
I watch, breathing hard, as his pleasure spurts out across my tits and neck, a small drop even landing on the corner of my lips when I positioned myself up to get a better view.
Slowly, our eyes move away from the mess and our gazes meet.
“Fuck, I’m so—”
Before he can finish, my tongue darts out and licks his cum—the musky, salty flavor making another needy moan fall from my lips. This one is quieter, less feral but equally as desperate for him.
“Fuck,” he grunts and falls on the bed next to me. Our heads turn toward each other and with a small, sad smile, he repeats in a whisper, “Fuck.”
I nod in agreement, knowing he isn’t talking about what we just did anymore.
That one was the realization of what we still have to do.
We lay there for a few minutes, drinking in each other’s features through the dark room and letting our breathing slow.
When he sits up, I quickly follow the movement and reach for my shirt before I think better of it. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling shy.
He chuckles and walks around the bed, standing in front of me naked and confident. “Do you want me to go?”
I open my mouth, but it closes quickly.
Maybe tomorrow I won’t be as brave, not as willing to become even more attached to this man I’ve been searching for my entire life; but tonight, that courage is still coursing through my veins.
I shake my head and stand. Our chests are brushing against each other, so close his racing heart beats against mine. Grabbing his hand, I pull him toward the bathroom and into the shower stall. We rinse off quickly and get ready for bed. I put on a new nightgown but he dries off and slides into my sheets without a stitch of clothing on.
Letting out an amused huff of air, I quickly pick up the clothes on my floor and tidy up, restless and ready for another round. He watches me, but I catch his eyes shifting back to the pile of journals on my table.
With a deep sigh, I grab a pile off the top, including the one he was reading when I first walked in, and drop them on the foot of the bed.
“I’m going to bed,” I say and climb under the covers. “However, you are welcome to read them—maybe pick up some details I’m missing.”
Curling into a ball on my half of the mattress, we watch each other for a moment before a gentle expression takes over his features. He reaches over and gently slides me closer, meeting my body at the mid-point of the bed.
With a much more gentle hand than thirty minutes ago, he cups my jaw and kisses me. It’s soft and quick but there’s a thousand unspoken words there.
“Thank you,” he says against my lips and tucks me under his arm. We stay like that for most of the night—me curled up against his side and him with one of Petra’s journals, flipping through the story of her life with Nestor and Barrett.
Chapter 38
