Page 131 of He Who Sleeps

Biting her bottom lip, she arched a brow. “Oh?” A blush crept up her face. “What’s that?”

"The connection between male and female. Sacrifice. Creation." He wanted to paint all of it.

“That sounds...super involved...” Her eyes were heavy and color rolled to her cheeks as her breathing hitched. He could tell she was imagining it.

"I might need you to model for me several times until we get it right," he teased, loving the way her skin was flushing with heat. And then abruptly he felt scared. What if he let her down? What if this newfound confidence failed him and he bailed at the last minute? That would be so mortifying. She'd never seen him fully in the grip of a PTSD hallucination and he knew how ugly it was.

In one of his cruelest moments, Stephan had recorded Easton flipping out and then made him watch the video over and over in some misguided attempt to "fix his whiny ass issues." He couldn't do that in front of her. Not Petra. Out here, away from everyone, he could seriously hurt her if he lost it. And then gentleness descended on his heart like a heavy weight, the hand of God moving in His servant, dispelling the fear and summoning hope in its place. He could do this. The God was with him. He was no longer lost.

"I'm going to need you to get undressed," he said confidently, smiling inside at the way her eyes widened.

“I...okay,” she said shyly. It occurred to him that what was between them had never been like this. Before it had been what she was bade to do, and while she might like it, and crave it even, this was different, because the situation wasn’t set up with an end game in mind. She could be as nervous about this as him. Her bravado an act before.

She was soft and sweet, and as she slipped free of the clothing, taking her time in doing so, the nerves were there, floating to the surface every so often.

He wished she could feel what he felt...his certainty that this was right where they needed to be at this exact moment, doing this exact thing. He wondered why God spoke to him and not to her. Unless it was part of her sacrifice to consecrate the temple...maybe that was it. Maybe she had to come to him, willing in the face of her uncertainty, to make it a true devotion.

She had to want to be here with him, now, doing this. He shed his own clothes much less hesitantly than she had. She probably deserved a show, but he'd waited for this moment for too long to be fancy about it. He just wanted to know what it would be like to touch and be touched without descending into his own personal hell.

He stroked the skin of her thigh, awed at how soft it was, even rippled with goosebumps from the chill in the air. His hand travelled up over the curves of her belly and cupped a breast, and God...the exquisite softness of it made him want to weep at its beauty. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing.

She was breathing more heavily now, clearly turned on, but he couldn’t contain his wonder over the feel of her skin. He had a crazy urge to rub his face on it like he'd seen cats do on TV and then realized he could do that if he wanted to, so he did. He had no idea that a woman's warm skin would smell so good.

Some sort of fruity product but underneath it, something that was purely her. It was intoxicating.

Focus, Easton.He mentally slapped himself. He couldn't stay here all night rubbing his face all over her. They had a lifetime for that. Tonight, they had a sacred duty.

He took her hand and placed it on his chest, his throat aching with unshed tears over the wondrous joy of not being destroyed by that simple touch. He moved it around and she let him, allowing him to use her hand to touch parts of his chest and throat and thighs before he was sure it was going to be okay. "I think I can let go," he said, choking up and trying to swallow down the tears. "Can you keep touching me?"

She nodded. Using both hands on him, softly, slowly, learning the feel of his body. Her eyes were on him, drinking him in as she did and she scooted closer, bringing his hand to her mouth. She kissed the inside of his wrist, then each of his fingers, the tips, and smiled at him. The color was in her cheeks but it wasn’t embarrassment. No, lust colored her, made her lids heavy.

He leaned in and kissed her, and in every way that counted, this was his first kiss. He lost himself in the taste of her, the soft yield of her lips and the tantalizing texture of her tongue as it darted against his, challenging and then retreating. God...all these years he'd been missing out on this.

His heart felt like it might burst. He let instinct take over and his hand drifted down her body, seeking the cleft between her thighs. And that was a shock, too, the soft, silky wetness of it had a heat he hadn't expected at all.

“East...” she moaned and scooted closer, her legs now over his. “You like to tease...” She giggled and then kissed him again, then nuzzled his neck. “Gods, you smell so good.”

He couldn't speak. He was too lost in the sensory overload of her hands and her lips and her wetness on his fingers. "I don't know what I'm doing," he blurted out and then cringed, waiting for her to laugh.

“Could have fooled me,” she said softly and nipped him, just behind his ear. “You are making me feel so good, East...” A shudder ran through her. “Keep doing what you’re doing...” She gasped as he pressed on her clit. “Oh gods...if it’s wrong I’ll tell you, but...I’m yours, I’m your plaything, your girl. This is so new to me, too, with you, but it’s so perfect. Make me yours, East...the way you want to...”

She didn't need to ask twice. He didn't know what he was doing consciously, but his body seemed to have some sort of primal muscle memory as to what had to be done as he moved over her and between her legs.

Arching, she wrapped a leg around his hip, her hand wrapping around his shaft for moments, and then she trailed her fingers down it. “East...” Her whisper was a whine of need.

"I'm right here." It took him a few moments to find the natural way to line up with her, almost losing his mind just at the feeling of his head sliding through her wetness until he felt the soft give that told him he was in the right place. And then he pushed. It felt like the world caved in on him.

The heat, the slide, the wetness...fuck, the heat. It was so good. Too good.

He jerked, unable to stop himself, one thrust, and everything came undone. He came helplessly, spurting into her after one thrust like a fucking teenager. He was mortified. God, he wanted to die. Why had God asked this of him? He could tell his face was scarlet as he started to withdraw, but then Petra stopped him.

“It’s good...and it’s okay,” she said softly, peppering him with kisses and then grinned. “Really hot that I turn you on this much.” She arched, slipping him slightly more inside, running her fingers down the nape of his neck and back. She whispered nonsense to him, her body stroking his.

"You aren't gonna laugh at me?" He was on the edge of tears, he was so mortified.

“Why would I laugh, my love?” she asked seriously. “The fact that I affect you so much, that you like me that much...” She smiled. “I’m not a little girl, I know some secrets, and something they don’t know,” she whispered. “I would never laugh at you, for anything...well, unless you’re being silly then I’ll laugh. This isn’t that.”

"I'm so embarrassed." He rested his face in the curve of her neck, too ashamed to look at her. "It's not like I've never seen you naked before. Or come in my own hand."

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