Nythir’s hand slid up her back, thumb brushing over the place where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her skin. Esther gasped softly into his mouth, the sound unguarded, and felt his control waver in response.
“Essie,” he murmured, barely more than breath.
The way he said her name with such need made her knees weaken.
She pressed her forehead to his, breathing him in. The room felt impossibly quiet, as though the world itself had paused out of respect.
“I want this,” she said. “I want you.”
“I need you,” he breathed, tightening his hold on her.
Esther laughed awkwardly. She wasn’t sure what to do next or how to continue.
Then Nythir lifted her. Unlike his usual calm and calculated movements, this was an ungraceful effort that made her grin as she hooked her legs around him and met his lips again. She rocked into the heat she felt, moaning into his mouth.
Nythir misjudged the distance to the mattress in his frenzied need for her, toppling them onto the rough mattress. Nythir caught himself with a soft, helpless laugh that vanished the moment Esther kissed him again.
Esther’s hands slid under his collar, over warm skin, drawing him down until there was barely space for breath between them.
Nythir licked along the curve of her throat with reverent attention, lingering where her pulse fluttered, while her legs tightened instinctively around his hips. He moved without quite realizing it at first, a slow, instinctive rock that drew a soft sound from them both as his hands began to explore, gentle and sure all at once.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his hand already traveling under her dress, up her thigh.
“Yes,” she answered with a shaky voice.
She squeaked when his teasing fingers finished their journey up her thigh and rubbed against her.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, kissing her mouth again. “Just touching.” He let his fingers explore the soft, swollen folds, finding a slick, startling wetness. She was ready for him. The knowledge made him dizzy with desire. He found a little nub, hard as a pearl, and circled it with a tentative finger.
Esther cried out, her whole body tensing. “What is that?”
“Something good,” he rasped, watching her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted. He kept up the gentle, circular motion, learning what made her gasp, what made her legs fall open wider.
He slid a finger lower, into her heat. She was so tight, so unbelievably hot. He pushed in slowly, up to his knuckle.
“You feel… incredible,” he gritted out, his own need a throbbing ache. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, preparing her. She was panting now, little cries escaping with each exhale.
Her breaths became short, frantic pants. Her hands clawed at the sheets. He watched, mesmerized, as pleasure overtook her, as her muscles tightened and a flush spread across her chest. With a sharp, broken cry, she came apart around his fingers, her body bowing, then melting into the mattress in a series of shuddering waves.
She lay boneless, her chest heaving. Slowly, she opened her eyes, dazed and glowing.
“That’s not fair,” Esther sighed.
“Oh?” Nythir teased, playing oblivious.
She huffed a quiet laugh, breathless and fed up, fingers tightening in his shirt as if she’d finally had enough of his restraint.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she murmured.
Then, before he could deny it, she shifted her weight and rolled them both with surprising ease.
He went willingly, laughter breaking from him as he landed on his back, eyes bright and utterly unbothered as Esther settled astride him.
“Impatient,” he teased softly, hands sliding to her hips. She smiled down at him, all heat and triumph, very clearly done waiting.
“This time, I’m not straddling you by accident,” Esther smiled.
“It would be a problem if you were,” he huffed.
