Page 110 of Only and Forever

I smile down at him, smoothing his wet hair away from his face. “Lie back.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because I want to touch you.”

A soft, uncertain smile lifts his mouth.

Sitting up, I gently press his shoulder until he falls back onto the pillows. I crawl over him until I’m straddling his waist, up on my knees. I reach for the hem of his shirt, my fingertips skating across his stomach. It shudders under my touch, muscles jumping. “Take off your shirt,” I tell him.

Viggo sits up quickly, gripping his shirt by the back of the collar, yanking it off, and throwing it aside. I smile and press him back again, until he’s flat on the bed, staring up at me. His hands go to my hips, tugging me toward him.

I relax my legs, let myself settle over him. He groans as his hands glide up my back. I bend and kiss him, light, soft. Then I part his mouth with my tongue, earning his gasp as I grind my hips against his.

He sinks his fingers into my hair, his mouth falling open, hips moving up into mine. My hand drifts down his chest, tracing the tattoo, the landscape of this place he loves. My hands dance lower, over his ribs, which bear a black line tattoo I couldn’t see in the dark of the bookstore that night. I trace across fluttering pages of open books, nestled among hardy vines and peony flowers.

He drags an arm from around my waist, reaching for me, where I ache between my thighs, but I catch his wrist.

“Lula?”

Slowly, I lift it over his head, pinning it back to the pillow. I take his other wrist and do the same, kissing him once more, slow and deep. He sighs into my mouth, tongue seeking mine, urgent, needy. “Just let me make you feel good,” I whisper, rocking my hips over his, kissing him tenderly and teasing.

Viggo groans, his fingers linking through mine as I pin them back over his head. His hips arch beneath me. He’s breathing hard and fast. “This is torture.”

“Good torture?” I kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, behind his ear, the hollow of his throat.

He nods. “Yes.”

I start to kiss my way down his hard chest.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asks, voice tight.

I lick at his pebbled nipple, making him gasp, his hips lurching up into me. “Touching you. Trust me?”

He peers down at me, then nods, another soft, uncertain smile. “I trust you.”

“Good.” Gently, I kiss my way along the waistband of his shorts, then, hooking them with his boxers, start to drag them down his hips.

Viggo’s breath turns rougher as I pull them off his legs, dropping them to the side of the bed. I can’t see perfectly clear in the darkness, only faint moonlight on the cloudy night, but I can see enough. His cock is tall and thick, and I grip him at the base, bringing him to my mouth.

“Oh God.” He throws back his head, his hand going to my hair, sinking in.

I hum happily around him, loving his taste, how he feels—hot and hard, yet smooth and soft.

Going slow, I work him with my mouth, trace with my fingertips the flock of birds tattooed high across his thigh onto his hip, swirling my touch to the V at his stomach, over his pelvis.

He pants, his grip tightening in my hair. “Lula,” he breathes. “Feels so good.”

I stare up at him, stroking up and down, swirling with my tongue, learning what makes his hips jerk up, makes his breath turn rougher, faster.

I love you, I tell him with my touch, my eyes fastened on his.I love you.

Viggo stares down at me, mouth open, jagged breaths, chest heaving. “Lula, ohfuck.” His head falls to the pillow again. Reaching back, he grips the bed frame as I take him deep in my mouth, stroke his thighs, between his legs, right behind where he’s tight and drawn up, rubbing, teasing.

“I’m gonna come.” His voice breaks. His legs start to shake. “Oh God, Lula, please.”

I watch him as I move faster, take him deeper. His hips roll. His knuckles turn white as he grips the bed frame. His mouth falls open as he gasps my name again and again, and then he throws his head back, turning it, burying his face in the pillow as he shouts my name and I feel him spill into my throat, as I work him through every rough jerk of his hips, every cry of my name.

On the next gentle stroke of my mouth, he shudders and gasps. “No more. I can’t.”

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