Page 49 of Straw and Gold
“It is a shame,” he continued, sliding his finger inside me again, “that you did not experience a more talented first lover, Goldling. I shudder to think of the pleasure you’ve missed.”
His finger curved, tapping inside of me and I jerked, a thin thread of something new shifting through my body. “What—” I shifted slightly, leaning back further and pulling my legs closer to my chest. “How did you…?”
Instead of an answer, he slid another finger inside, curving them, tapping that same spot. Again, a surge of something I’d never felt raced through me and I gasped.
“There it is,” he whispered, sliding his other hand across the peak of my breasts.
“Therewhatis?” I asked, squirming, adjusting, my body needing to feel that again.
“That place our dear Brekkan never found.”
I laughed. “You bring him up so often—is that jealousy I hear?”
His fingers began to pulse,tap, tap, tappingand I moaned, gripping the side of the tub, pulling one leg up further to my chest.
“Yes,” he admitted as his hand left my breasts, instead cupping under my chin and forcing my head back where he covered my mouth with his own.
Tap, tap, tap—his fingers were relentless, having found the one place inside of me I didn’t even know existed. It was like being woken after a thousand years to something I was meant to know—to experience, to beg for and I did. Of course I did, sweeping my lips from his if only to call his name as my body tensed, and I was flushed with bright fire in my veins, ignited from his touch.
“Killian,” I moaned, my breath heavy, “I don’t know—what do I?—”
His fingers were a torment, pressing over and over and over inside me, cupping all of me without hesitation, without a moment to process where he was bringing my body—to a place I’d never been and didn’t know how to be.
“Don’t hold back,” he gritted, picking up his pace in response to how my body stretched, my legs now spread so wide they ached. “You’re going to let me take you through all of this to the end. Look at you.” His hand lifted my chin again, forcing myhead back against his chest. “You’re taking my fingers so well, Moh Dhóches.”
Faster now, I squirmed and moaned and cried out, my body pulsing in his rhythmic tapping, stronger, harder—and I felt my body tighten, my hand digging into his arm as a final cry escaped my throat.
Before it fully left my lungs, his hand was over my mouth, muffling the sound as my body pulsed, rocking to the rhythm of his fingers still there, slowing and bringing me back down from where he’d taken me. As I whimpered, he withdrew his hand, wrapping an arm around my belly.
My legs shook, my mind swirled—lightheaded and blurry. I blinked over and over, confused and trembling. He turned me in his arms and I tried to focus on his face.
“Morella,” he whispered, taking my head in his hands. “Morella, are you hurt?”
I shook my head, suddenly overcome with emotion.
I didn’t cry often, but felt the overwhelming urge to do so now, even if I couldn’t understand why. My chin trembled and my eyes swelled with tears.
“Moh Dhóches…” He wiped the first tear as it fell down my cheek. I swallowed hard, heavy with the realization that I’d never known this pleasure, and now, I’d only known it with him.
He kissed my forehead, laying my head on his chest as I shivered, my legs shaking with residual pulsating pleasure.
“I didn’t know.” I sniffed, wiping my nose. “I didn’t know it could…it could be like that.”
“Did…did you enjoy?—”
“Yes!” I trembled, lifting my head. “It was…different from what I’ve explored before. You must think I’m so naive.”
He stroked the top of my head. “Naivety is not always such a terrible thing. In this case, there is nothing wrong with it. Youdidn’t know and asked me to show you. Now you know and can…experiment yourself.”
“Oh, I plan to,” I laughed, feeling his chuckle rumble underneath me still draped across his chest.
“We should get some rest.” Wrapping his arm around my back, he rose, folding a towel around my body as he helped me from the bath. He followed next patting himself dry, still hard as ever.
“Do you want me to—” I started.
Picking up on my implication, he frowned. “Rest, Morella. We both need rest.”
I nodded, lifting my nightgown from the floor and stepping into the soft silk. He followed me out the door, donning his same white linen pants that left nothing to my imagination.
