She obeyed, exhaling slowly, and her body surrendered. His fingers slid home, filling her completely, and the moan that spilled from her lips was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.
“Jack.”
“There we go.” He carefully stretched her with slow, measured strokes. “Does that feel nice?”
“Mmm, yes.”
Her body unfurled beneath him as it learned pleasure for the first time—as they both discovered her pleasure together.
He curled his fingers, building her higher with each deliberate stroke. His other hand found her breast, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and she writhed between the dual sensations like a woman caught in a fever.
“That’s it.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tight peak. “Every sound you make gets me hard.”
Her hips rolled against his hand. He added his thumb to her clit, pressing firm circles. “Don’t fight it. Just let your body take what it needs.”
Her pleasure became his obsession. Every flutter of her lashes, every catch in her breath, every desperate roll of her hips was a language he wanted to speak fluently.
“Jack…”
He kissed the underside of her jaw, her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
His fingers drove deeper, curling, stroking as his thumb worked in relentless circles. She was so wet, the slick sounds of her body collided with her moans. Her inner walls clenched and released in a steady flutter, building until her whole body trembled.
“Oh God—oh God?—”
“That’s it. Don’t hold back.”
She arched and shattered, her mouth falling open on a silent scream, her sex clamping down on his fingers with rhythmic pulses that seemed to go on forever. He stroked her through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks rolled through her body, watching her face with something that felt dangerously close to awe.
When she finally stilled, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed and unfocused, he withdrew his fingers slowly.
His fingers glistened with her release, and her scent intensified. Like a delicacy, he licked his fingers clean.
“Jack!” She blushed to the tips of her breasts and covered her mouth.
“You taste like salvation.” He kissed her. “Like absolution.” He licked at her lips, letting her taste for herself. “Like everything pure in this fucked up world.”
She lay boneless against the sheets, hair tangled across the pillow, skin flushed from throat to navel. Her gaze dropped to the rigid bulge straining against his suit.
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She shook her head. “If only that were possible.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“I know. It’s about us, Jack.” Her hands remained over her head, fingers entwined, as her gaze became a caress in itself. “Would you touch yourself?” Her voice trembled nervously.
“That’s not necessary?—”
“Jack, please. I’ll keep my hands right here, I promise.” When he looked away, she said, “I know you touch yourself in the shower. Why not here, with me? If you want, I’ll shut my eyes. I just… I want to hear you too.”
His breath punched out of his lungs. Slowly, he reached for her face, gently closing her eyes. His hands shook as he reached for his belt. The buckle clinked in the firelit silence—obscenely loud—and he hesitated with his fingers on the metal.
“I’m right here with you,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The buckle released. The zipper parted. And when he finally drew himself free from the confining fabric, the relief was so acute it tore a groan from his chest.
