Page 246 of The Reluctant Hero

He points to a black bench with a small seat and a tilted back piece. I try to sit on the edge with my knees closed.

“Further back,” he taunts with a grin.

I can either have my legs dangling in the air or spread them. I scoot back, spreading my knees wide.

He nods, fisting his length to give it two slow pumps as he approaches me. His hand goes to the top of the bench as he leans down to kiss me. My back arches to make sure our lips meet fully.

It isn’t a tongue-thrusting invasion or wild. He’s gentle, dabbing little kisses over my lips until I’m frustrated. My arms rise to wrap around his neck. He seems to know what I want because I can feel his smile against my lips.

I’m supposed to be rough with him, but I can’t seem to find the nerve. He’s so gentle as he reaches for my chin and positions my face just so. But he doesn’t do more than press his lips against mine without allowing me access.

I would bite him if I could. Instead I run my tongue over his lower lip as if I’m asking for permission.

His hand moves down my throat, across my collarbone, and to my heavy breast. He runs a knuckle over my nipple. The rough sensation makes my breath catch. He palms the mound and squeezes. Just like he did to my neck.

My thighs shift as moisture pools. So much of it that I’m afraid I’m going to leave a puddle. He’s barely touched me.

I swallow hard, the sound loud between our panting breaths. My lips are open, shaking, waiting as I gasp.

A rough thumb rolls over my nipple, and I can’t help but whimper.

His other hand drops to plump my breasts up, and his mouth moves away from mine to fasten on a beaded nipple. His tongue flicks across it, his thumb rubbing the other side. The dual sensation has my back arching painfully to give him free access. He may have refused to kiss me fully, but he’s making up for it.

He takes his time moving back and forth between them. Sucking, nibbling, pressing his lips on me for the gentlest of kisses.

I cradle his head to me. His hair isn’t long enough to pull, but he doesn’t seem to mind how hard my fingers dig in.

I’m dazed by how softly he touches me. His hands are large enough to cover my breasts easily. The heat radiating off of him already has me sweating.

I want to demand, beg for more, but I’m silent, staring down at his bent head.

His hands move away, along my sides, and to my hips. I slide down as he repositions me in a sprawl, my ass near the edge and my head at an awkward angle. Forced to look down at myself as he draws away.

He keeps me firmly in place as he gets to his knees. I can see his cock leaking precum, rigid and as desperate as I am. If only Mikael would relent.

Our eyes meet and cling. His head goes lower until I can feel the heat of his breath washing over sensitive folds.

With his hold and my position, I can’t move. He doesn’t take his eyes off me when he runs his tongue along desperate flesh. When he settles in, his eyes on mine as if he can hold me still by will alone, I find my voice.

“Mikael,” I whisper roughly, unable to get anything else out.

He blinks slowly, breaking the connection for a second. His hands move to my thighs. Repositioning my legs to wrap around his neck with an ease that brings his strength into focus. He palms my ass and sits up, taking me with him.

My head slides to the cushioned seat. The only thing supporting me is my shoulders and his hands. His fingers dig into plump flesh. The rough kneading is a contrast to his gentle exploration.

No matter how I try to move, the shifting of my thighs, any sounds he wrings out of my tight throat, he doesn’t stop. I’m building up tension in my core, but he’s too gentle. I need something more. The invasion of his tongue is too slow and taunting to give me relief.

I don’t know how long he torments me. All I know is how good my body feels while my mind riots. I can’t catch my breath. I’m sweating, shaking, crying. It’s too much and too little.

He’s so damn patient it’s killing me.

I’m riding the edge of an orgasm and can’t quite tip over. Just when I think it will come it fades back a little to build up again. Each time is stronger but not enough.

He draws away, and my legs tighten to try and keep him in place.

“Let go,” he tells me softly.

I whimper and force my thighs away from his head.

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