Page 74 of The Summer We Lie

"Bring your hand down between us and rub your clit," he tells me, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and into mine where our bodies press together.

I bring my hand down from where it was tangled in his hair, ready to slip it between us where we're joined so intimately. My fingers tremble slightly with a mixture of nervousness and lingering pain, unsure if I can make this better.

"Wait," he says suddenly, stopping me with a gentle but firm grip on my wrist.

He captures my hand in his much larger one, bringing my fingers to his mouth. My breath catches in my throat as he slips my fingers between his lips. I watch, completely mesmerized, as his lips close around my fingers, the sensation almost unbearably intimate. His tongue is soft and hot as it glides between my fingers, coating them thoroughly with a deliberate care that makes my chest tighten. My mouth falls open slightly, unconsciously mirroring his actions as heat blooms and spreads low in my belly.

When he finally pulls my hand from his mouth, my fingers are slick and glistening in the dim light. The cool air hits them, creating a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of his mouth that makes me shiver all the way down to my toes.

"Now," he says, his voice noticeably deeper than before, rougher around the edges with barely contained desire.

Fuck, this man is so perfect it hurts to look at him. Every little thing he does shows how experienced he is, how much attention he pays to details I wouldn't have even thought about. How did I get here? In this massive bed with this gorgeous, powerful man who's treating me with such care I could almost cry?

I slip my wet fingers between our bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. The slickness from his mouth makes my touch glide easily over my heated flesh, and the first brush of my fingertips against my clit sends a spark of pleasure through me that momentarily eclipses the lingering pain, making me gasp.

"That's it," he encourages, watching my face with an intensity that should make me self-conscious but somehow doesn't. "Show me how you like to be touched."

I start with gentle circles, exactly the way I touch myself when I'm alone in my bed with my headphones on. It feels completely different with him inside me, so much more intense, like the pleasure has nowhere to go but straight through my core. The pain begins to recede like an outgoing tide, replaced by a building warmth that spreads outward from where our bodies connect so completely.

The sensation of being so completely filled, of being stretched beyond what I thought possible, shifts from discomfort to something else—something that makes my inner muscles clench around him involuntarily.

"Fuck," he hisses, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. "Do that again."

"Do what?" I ask breathlessly, confused.

"You just squeezed me. Fuck, it feels incredible."

I deliberately tighten around him, watching his face transform with pleasure, his eyes closing briefly as he fights for control.

"That's it," he whispers, voice strained. "Keep touching yourself."

I continue circling my clit, feeling the tension in my body dissipating as pleasure builds. The burning sensation fades, replaced by an awareness of how perfectly he fills me, how the pressure inside creates an entirely new kind of sensation.

I begin moving against him, my hips rising instinctively to test it out, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything he's giving me. The small movement draws a groan from deep in his chest, a primal sound that vibrates through both our bodies and sends electric currents racing along my skin.

My eyes shoot up to his, surprised by his reaction and how it makes something molten pool low in my belly, a sensation so intense it steals my breath.

"I think you can move now," I say, my voice breathier than I expected, barely recognizing it as my own. It sounds like someone else entirely—someone bolder, more sensual, unafraid to ask for what she wants.

"Are you sure?" he asks, concern etched across his features, brow furrowed as he studies my face. His eyes search mine intently, as if he could read the truth written there better than in my words.

"Yes, please," I beg him, the words tumbling out before I can stop them, need overriding any lingering embarrassment. My fingers dig into the corded muscles of his shoulders, urging him closer, desperate for him to understand how much I need this—need him.

He pulls back slowly, the drag of him against my inner walls creating a friction that makes me gasp. When just the tip remains inside, teasing my entrance, he pushes back in with deliberate care, watching my face with such intense concentration that I feel completely exposed, completely seen.

"Oh," I breathe out, surprised by how different it feels now. There's still a slight sting, a burning stretch that reminds me this is all new territory, but it's overshadowed by a building pleasure that radiates outward from where we're joined, warm and liquid and intoxicating.

"How was that?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of restraint, muscles trembling slightly beneath my fingertips.

"Mmm, so good. More," I moan, my fingers digging deeper into his shoulders, urging him closer, wanting to feel his full weight pressing me into the mattress.

He establishes a gentle rhythm, shallow thrusts that gradually deepen as my body accommodates him. I'm fascinated by the changes in his expression—the tightening of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes like polished obsidian, the slight furrow between his brows as he concentrates on maintaining control. It's like watching a master craftsman at work, every movement precise and purposeful.

"You're so tight," he groans, the words rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. "So perfect. I could stay inside you forever."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal cascading through me, pooling between my thighs where we're connected so intimately. I wrap my legs around his waist on pure instinct, changing the angle suddenly, and he slides impossibly deeper, hitting a spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyelids and tears prick at the corners.

"Oh god, it feels so good," I moan, my back arching involuntarily off the bed, pressing my breasts against the hard plane of his chest.