Every breath he takes drags at me, my body trembling as he places me down on the edge of the bed, his hands never completely leaving me, one palm continuing to touch me as he pulls off his pants and lets them fall to the floor.
I don’t have time to look down before he gathers me up against him again, pulling me high, bringing my legs around his waist and keeping me plastered to his chest while he maneuvers himself up and onto the bed.
There, he kneels, keeping both of us upright, my legs around his waist, the tips of my toes pointed and touching down on the bed behind him, my pelvis pressed to his stomach while my hands rest on his shoulders, my eyeline directly opposite his.
He’s holding me up off him.
For a breathtaking moment, he keeps me there, his deep breaths telling me he’s reaching for control.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, a quiet murmur, another shot of heat making me tremble with need, even though he’s tellingme…
He could hurt me, and I’m not sure how.
His voice stronger, he continues. “If you want to stop at any time, we will stop.”
He doesn’t move and it’s clear he’s waiting for me to answer.
My heart is pounding and my breathing is erratic. I struggle to find my voice through the desire consuming me.
I lean in to him, tracing my fingertips across his jaw and around the outline of his lips.
He closes his eyes at my touch but quickly opens them again, focusing on me. “Thyra, do you understand?”
“I understand,” I say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, inhaling the iciness of his skin, a movement that drags my hard nipples across his chest.
With a groan that nearly sends me into madness, he lets me sink downward, adjusting himself with one hand so I very slowly slide onto his cock.
A controlled descent.
First the tip of him, then the top of his shaft.
I gasp.
Dear Goddess, he’s cold.
Not dangerously so. Rather, a shiver of intense pleasure rushes through my body.
My muscles are relaxed and my core is flush with wetness, my body adjusting around him as he lowers me another inch.
Another rush of shivery sensation floods me.
His arms clamp around me, holding me as if that were as far as he’d put me.
I whimper an objection, the ache deep within my core remaining untouched. “I need more.”
“Then take what you need,” he says, a ragged command, but as soon as he speaks, he closes his lips and the stillness of his chest tells me he’s holding his breath.
Despite the exquisite iciness touching my core, a rush of warmth fills my chest.
It would be easy for him to sing to me and manipulate me into accepting all of him, even if it hurt me.
He utters not a single manipulation of sound that could sway me to accept him into my body if I don’t want to.
With a soft moan, I take control, dipping my weight ever so gradually, regulating my slide onto him.
Lower and lower until he finally fills me.
A groan of relief drags from my chest as his cock presses to my deepest pleasure points and tantalizing shots of icy sensation destroy my inhibitions.
