Page 20 of On Thin Ice

“He’ll get to feast on you later,” Sinclair said, a finger under my chin. When I looked in his eyes, he said, “But first things first.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I kept my hands on him without sliding them as he removed the clip on my hair and spread it across my shoulders. “You are stunningly beautiful.”

I gave him a shy smile, wondering what else he wanted to say—because it felt like he was holding something back. I thought I knew what it was. Likely, he was feeling the same way I was—that we shouldn’t be here doing this, that we were breaking every possible rule. I knew my own father would be devastated if he knew I was about to lose my virginity to his sworn enemy’s son, but how would Sinclair’s father react?

I suspected he too would be disappointed…angry. And although I knew my father would never disown me no matter how upset I made him, I didn’t know if the same could be said for Sinclair’s father.

As if he sensed my hesitation, Sinclair kissed me again, keeping every fire inside me ignited and hot for him. Then, taking my hand, he led me into the bedroom. I felt a little self-conscious, my body bare, exposed—but he was naked too.

And ever the gentleman.

He pulled back the big gray comforter, exposing black sheets, and he invited me to lie down. As I rested my head against the pillow, I could smell his scent in the sheets, and it was like a pheromone, stimulating all my juices. When he lay next to me, his finger traced a pattern between my breasts, again emphasizing to my body just how desperate I was for his touch. Between my breasts wasn’t good enough. I needed more.

And he was about to deliver.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

That question embarrassed me. I hadn’t done much self-exploration, not feeling much desire for anyone…until I’d been in his presence. More recently, I’d considered trying, just to relieve the ache I felt for him, but the answer was that I never had. So I told him the truth. “No.”

I felt like he was going to ask another question, but he didn’t. Instead, he kissed me once more while that finger continued making a pattern in my cleavage. After getting me steamed up, his lips moved to my neck, my collarbone, then to where he’d been tracing with his finger before he snaked his tongue down my belly. It wasn’t long before he settled between my legs—and, although I knew what he was about to do, I had no idea what to expect.

“Relax, baby,” he said—and that made me tense up. But his hands gently spread my legs farther apart, making me feel more vulnerable at first…and then needy.

I could feel his fingers in my folds, and each touch felt like electricity. Rather than look at his head, I shifted my eyes to the languid ceiling fan, trying to focus, because my body wanted to squirm. Finally, his tongue touched me. He began lapping at my slit and I sucked in a breath of air. His tongue seemed to move at the pace of the fan—unhurried but determined.

Everything inside me was concentrated on that one spot.

Closing my eyes, I took in slow, deep breaths, realizing that his attention there was helping my nerves feel less panicked, less desperate. But it wasn’t until after a minute or so that something in my brain seemed to click. While what he’d been doing up till this point had felt good…now it felt like it had purpose, like it was leading to a big payoff.

Because I’d been concentrating on the sensations he was stirring, I hadn’t noticed at first how my breathing had deepened. Then he did something with his tongue, something that felt like a swirl, and it woke me up all over again before he returned to his previous pattern.

Involuntarily, a little groan escaped my throat as I found myself trying to grip the silky sheet underneath me. As if in response, the pressure his tongue exerted increased just enough to bring up my heart rate.

Something was going to happen. I knew what it was…but dare I hope? Was it real?

Regardless, there was no mistaking this was building to something. Desperate for something to hold onto, like the bar across one’s lap on a roller coaster, I shoved my hand into his hair, trying not to pull but feeling as if I needed to be grounded in some way. The sensation was even stranger, as I could sense the slight motion of his head giving me pleasure from another angle.

I began thinking it wasn’t going to happen, yet he stayed in place, lapping at my clit valiantly as if he didn’t have a care in the world—and it was his attention, his care that meant more to me than any—

But what felt like another wall in my brain came crashing down, unleashing something. I gasped a deep breath, almost as if to steel myself, as my thighs began to tremble, held apart gently by his warm, strong hands.

And then it was as if I was hit by a wave of the ocean.

“Ohhhhhhh…” I moaned, unable to stop the sound escaping my mouth. It was much like I imagined speaking in tongues might be like, spontaneous and powerful, overtaking any control I had over my mind and body.

The rhythm with which the orgasm overcame me continued to be driven by the stroke of his tongue. Every swell of pleasure I experienced matched the relentless caress he applied to my clit and, after what felt like eons, it continued with less intensity—and, for that, I was grateful, because I felt out of breath and almost exhausted. Still, my body didn’t give up, my thighs now matching the same rhythm as he kept up his slow pace.

It wasn’t until my body finally relaxed in pleasurable exhaustion that I noticed my hand was still tangled in his hair. Weakly, I managed, “Oh, sorry.”

He kissed the inside of my thigh. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” Sitting up, he moved next to me, but I had to force my eyes open. “That was really your first orgasm?”

I chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

As he brushed his lips on my shoulder, I felt a shiver run through my body. God…I was alive but I couldn’t take advantage of it yet. First, I had to rest.

But I hoped we weren’t done.

“I can give you that whenever you want.” Another imperceptible tremor rumbled through my insides as I tried to contemplate the weight of his promise. A greedy part of my mind, a spot I didn’t know existed, pounced on that, imagining him between my legs every night.

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