I glance at her, expecting fury, but her wide eyes scream for more, the intensity in them louder than words. “Then control my magic so Idon’t hurt you.”
“I tried. I can’t, just like I can’t block it. Your magic misbehaves as much as you do.” Disappointment tugs at her face, pulling her lips into a pout. I’ll fix that. “You want to see what else Icanmake you do?”
That slow nod is all I need.
Matching the hesitancy weighing down her heart, I float her hand toward her heated center. She tilts her hips upward, seeking contact, even as she fights to keep them flat.
I hover her hand there and watch her shake in anticipation. “If I could touch you, I’d have you on your belly in a heartbeat, panties around your knees. And I’d take those hips and raise them up in the air… and you know what I’d do next?”
She whimpers, her body rolling with need and flooding me with enough urgency to snap my restraint. “It better involve your mouth or cock, or I’ll—”
“Shh.” I drop her hand onto her panties, over the wet spot, the swelling I remember so well. She trembles. “I’d start by running my fingers up and down your pussy until you’re so wet you’re dripping on the bed. Then I’d take that wetness and make tiny circles over your tight ass.”
Her desire comes out in a half moan, half whine. Then, without moving a godsdamn muscle of my own, I make her shove her hand inside her panties.
A gasp passes her soft lips.
I’m doused with every feeling of hers. I wish I knew her thoughts that go along with them.
“Eli,” she whispers. Her urgency pounds through me.
“More?” She has zero desire to pull her hand away, but fear underlies her longing. Fear of what I’ll think, I suspect.
“Yes,” she admits shyly, and I’m entranced by this foreign, vulnerable side of her. A glimpse behind the swears and screams, past the anger and mistrust. It’s so godsdamn beautiful.
“I like how your hand looks inside your panties,” I offer, proud of myself. I told her I was a gentleman.
She laughs nervously. “No surprise there.”
I lie on my side, one hand pulling spare panties from my pocket and slipping them under my waistband, the other holding up my head. I like the way the fabric feels around me. And that it belongs to her. Imake her trace her fingers along her slit and over her clit, wishing it weremyhand soaked in her wetness. Her scent intoxicates me.
“Know what I’d do once you were nice and wet?” I pretend the image is real, that I can feel her slickness. “I’d press the tip of my finger against your ass and slowly work it inside.”
Her hips shift, her heart trying to beat mine up with the way it fights in her chest. “Would I like that?”
“I wouldn’t know. Being with you wiped my mind clean of every woman from my past lives, remember?”
She glares at me. “Liar.”
“But I think you would, and you’d want my tongue on you at the same time.”
She moans in response, looking about ready to explode with desire, her eyes round and begging.
“You want your pussy fucked, don’t you?” I ask.
Her chin bobs slightly in silent permission.
I make her glide her pointer finger into herself, and I don’t even have to spread her legs wide. She does that all on her own. “Good girl.” I reward her with a swirl of her finger.
“I-I don’t…” Heavy breaths move her tits up and down, her newfound timidness fighting with undeniable lust and forcing it upon me. She never fails to take my emotions beyond the realm of calculated composure, even before I accidentally stole a part of her. Now I feel her emotions, her physical pain, her pleasure…her everything. The night I rescued her and Milo was the first time I knew how she felt about me because of that piece of her. And I couldn’t stay away. But I was still mastering my control over her, or I would have stopped her from running away from me.
I move her finger out and back in with a wet slap. Then again. And again, building rhythm. “Look how sexy you are fucking that tight hole. Imagine it’s my hand.”
She lifts her head to take in the view, her legs open, hand moving inside her wet panties. Her mouth parts, and I’m afraid she might pass out when her eyes roll to the back of her head. She lets out high, breathy moans, closer and closer together the more her finger curls and burrows, knuckles hitting wet flesh.
Such torment, to be able to control her movements and feel how much she wants me—but not touch her. I slide two of her fingers inwith the next entrance and spread them apart. A groan escapes her from the stretch. Her hips ram the air, seeking collision, body with body.
It should be mine.
