The first touch of his mouth against me has me arching off the bed, a gasp tearing from my throat. His tongue slidesup in one long, devastating stroke, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out too loudly. It’s hard to remember to be quiet when he’s doing…that.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, my fingers tangling in his hair. He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he alternates between gentle licks and firmer strokes that have me writhing beneath him. I bite down on my lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape as he finds that perfect spot, circling it with his tongue until my legs are trembling against his shoulders. The pleasure builds impossibly higher, coiling tightly in my core until I feel like I might shatter completely.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for. More? Less? I can’t think straight with his mouth doing wicked things that make my vision blur at the edges.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and that’s all it takes. The orgasm crashes over me, stealing my breath. I have to press both hands over my mouth to keep from crying out, my body shaking as wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through me.
Aidan doesn’t stop, working me through it with gentle strokes until I’m boneless and gasping. When he finally lifts his head, his lips are glistening, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He looks almost feral, his eyes burning with hunger as he moves up my body. The sight sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
I reach between us with the intent of undoing his jeans when he gently grabs my wrist. “Not tonight. This was for you.”
“No,” I whisper, tugging my hand free from his grasp. “I want to touch you, too.”
“Lucy, you don’t have to?—”
“I know I don’t have to,” I interrupt, my voice surprisingly steady despite my trembling limbs. “I want to.”
I place my palm against his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath my touch. The confidence in my voice contradicts the nervous flutter in my stomach. I’ve never wanted someone like this before—never felt this overwhelming need to taste, to give, to watch someone come apart because of me.
“I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel,” I admit, my cheeks burning with the confession.
His eyes don’t leave mine as I slide my hand down his chest, over the ridges of his abdomen, until I reach the waistband of his jeans. My fingers work the button, then the zipper. He’s hard and straining against the denim, and my mouth goes dry with anticipation.
“Lift your hips,” I whisper, and he does, allowing me to tug his jeans down his thighs. His boxers do little to hide how much he wants this, the outline of him pressing insistently against the fabric.
I palm him, feeling the heat of his hardened length. His breath hitches, and a fresh wave of desire courses through me. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down to free him.
He’s beautiful—thick and firm, straining toward his stomach. I wrap my hand around him, marveling at the contrast between the velvet-soft skin and the steel underneath.
“Lucy,” he groans as I begin to stroke him slowly.
I shift down the bed, positioning myself between his thighs. I glance up at him before I lower my head, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone, then trail my lips inward. I can feel him holding his breath, the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath my hands.
When I finally take him into my mouth, his sharp intake of breath is the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard. I startslowly, savoring the weight of him on my tongue. It’s intoxicating.
“Fuck…” he moans. “Just like that.”
His praise encourages me. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I work him with my mouth and hand together. His fingers tangle in my hair, not pushing, just holding on. I can feel him growing impossibly harder and thicker against my tongue, his breathing becoming ragged above me.
“Christ, Lucy.”
I hum around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath. I increase my pace, taking him as deep as I can, wanting to give him the same pleasure he’s given me.
“I should—” he starts, tugging gently at my hair in warning. “Lucy, I’m going to?—”
But I don’t pull away. Instead, I look up at him through my lashes, holding his gaze as I take him deeper.
His body goes taut as he reaches his breaking point. With a strangled groan, he comes, his release flooding my throat. I swallow everything he gives until he finally stills.
I press a soft kiss to his flushed tip before crawling back up his body.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice rough and satisfied. He pulls me against his chest, holding me like I’m something he never intends to let go of. My cheek finds the curve of his shoulder, and I listen to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat as it gradually slows.
There’s still so much hanging over our heads, shadows waiting at the edges of this fragile peace. But right now, none of it matters. Right now, it’s only this. Us.
thirty-seven
