Sweat beads on my forehead and I clench the bedsheets in two white-knuckle fists. Lucy’s hands leave my thighs and one of them wiggles between my fingers to entwine our hands together. The other more roughly grabs my hand and plants it on the back of her head. The insinuation of control increases my desire, and I thread my fingers in her hair and apply gentle pressure in a rhythmic pattern.
When I gaze down my body at her, she is concentrated solely on my pleasure. When I react with a gasp or a moan, she squeezes my hand and reciprocates with a groan that reverberates inside me. My body grows warmer and warmer like a fever has gripped me, and the coil twisting and tightening in my belly is about to pop. But when it happens, it’s less of a pop and more of a flood of relief, pleasure, and an intense wave of affection.
Lucy strokes my hand with her thumb as she laps and hums between my legs. I relax my grip in her hair and use my combat breathing techniques to try and calm down. Of course, that is not what Lucy has in mind as she kisses her way back up my torso and pulls one of my nipples into her mouth to give it gentle sucks. Maybe I should be sated, but I am not, and her roaming touch and insistent mouth isn’t helping. Which she knows, of course, as she smirks at me and leans up to steal my breath again with a kiss. She circles one finger around my center, slicking her finger with the wetness that she created. With a grin and a raised eyebrow, she asks for permission and I grant it without pause.
She enters me slowly and I bite my lip as hard as I can to hold back a moan. There’s a twin feeling of burning and pleasure, and she is devastatingly deliberate with each thrust. I wrap my arms around her neck and pull her close as she picksup speed and tucks her face into my neck. It takes a while for my body to become accustomed to the penetration, but eventually the burning subsides and the coiling sensation returns in my stomach.
“Can you take another?” Lucy asks into my ear. The exertion and arousal makes her pant, which increases my desire tenfold. I nod and she brings two fingers to push inside of me. My eyes roll back and my hips arch toward her. “Good girl.”
Her praise nearly undoes me and I moan, high and long, my stomach flipping. Lucy pulls back only an inch or two to study me, and a grin spreads across her face. We’ve clearly tapped into a proclivity of mine, but Lucy doesn’t remark upon it. She pushes and curls her fingers inside me as I cling to her and dig my blunt nails into her shoulders. My leg wraps around her back to seek more leverage and to get closer, if we can.
“Fuck.” The lone curse word bursts out of me and Lucy groans in response. I’ve lost control, again surrendering to the growing wave of climax threatening to kill me entirely. She wanted me to make demands, so I let my base instincts take over. “Harder.”
Lucy growls into my ear and I drop my head back into the pillow as she grunts in more effort. I’m so close and she must know because she increases her speed. She kisses me, hard and deep, then hovers her face above mine. “Go ahead, baby. Come. You’re so pretty when you come for me.”
And I’m gone, long gone, my body arches and I hold her even tighter to me. My orgasm thrums through me and I succumb to it entirely, boneless and out of breath. Lucy holds me tenderly as my heart rate decreases from its sprinting pace. Her nose nuzzles my cheek and neck, and I’ve never been this complete. I am a warship, finally snug in my home harbor, in calm and warm waters. This is it, I think. If this is all my life is and ever could be, it would be enough.
But I am not satisfied. Gluttonous for her flesh and desire, I start kissing her in earnest again. She caresses my hair as we kiss, and scratches my scalp with her fingernails. “You’re okay to keep going?”
“Yes.” My thigh wedges between her legs and I press into her and revel in the gasp of shock and arousal that she breathes against my mouth. “Tell me what you want. I’m new to this, but you’ll find I am very good at taking direction.”
“Oh?” Lucy rolls flat onto her back and crooks a finger at me. “Then get on top of me, Lieutenant General. That’s an order.”
Lucy’s energyis rapidly depleting. Beneath me, her hips move lethargically against the rhythm of my hand. Her instructions and praise have devolved into pitiful whimpers, then her body shakes hard in release. I slow down and draw her pleasure out for as long as she can stand it before removing myself from inside her.
“Jesus Christ,” she says as I roll off her, our bodies slick with sweat. “You win.”
I wipe my hand on my thigh and turn to my side, raising an eyebrow. “Was this a competition?”
“Not technically. I’d forgotten about your stupidly excessive stamina.” She lazily traces her fingers on my skin. “I should’ve known you would be a giver.”
“A giver? Is that bad?”
Lucy laughs heartily and props her head up on her hand. “No, my love, it is not. You’re perfect. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
I’m not sure how to describe how I feel. Like a car cruising along a highway at top speeds. Sore, but satiated. Sticky, butexhilarated. Loved. And—because it’s me and I couldn’t possibly be normal—awkward.
Growing up in the Order, I developed a variety of niche skills. I don’t imagine I’ll ever need to wield a sword, but I can. Fighting, stealing, subterfuge, bomb setting or defusing, and if you dropped me in a desert, I could survive and get to civilization. Theia taught me math and languages, science and physics, history, art, and music. Considering I lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, my education rivaled that of those more fortunate. I know how to do many things.
But when Lucy turns and cuddles me from behind, I don’t know where to put my hands.
Straight out in front of me seems wrong. Around myself is restricting. So, they flop like limp noodles as we lie together in silence and listen to the chirp of crickets and the swell of locusts.
“You seem tense.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do with my hands?”
Her nose nuzzles the nape of my neck. “Has no one ever spooned you before?”
Whatever that means, I’m sure it’s not like the ridiculous imagery in my head. “Spooned me? Is that a real term? I feel like you’re making fun of me.”
“It is absolutely the term, but boy, I have missed how obtuse you are.” I glare at her over my shoulder to find her eyes alight with mischief. “I can give you more room.”
“No, this is nice. I’m bad at…spooning.”
She takes one of my arms and wraps it around my stomach, then covers it with her own. “Put your other hand under the pillow, supporting your head.” Her front is flush with my back and I’m immediately flooded with a sense of calm and protection. “I’m sorry no one has ever held you like this.”
