Page 50 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
Locane senses my need and moves his hands to my ass, grabbing me against him and flipping us so I’m laying on my back on the chaise with him heavily on top of me. He moves so quickly I don’t register the movement until it’s done.
His full weight pressed hotly between my thighs sends soft noises up my throat I’d never known I was capable of making. I’m too overtaken with wanton need to care.
He has one arm on the side of my head, propping himself to keep from crushing me, and the other wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close. There’s barely enough room, but it’s just enough to work.
Locane kisses my forehead softly before looking at me with kind and caring eyes, stealing my breath further. So unlike the version of him that I’ve come to know. The way he is watching me now brings back that wave of familiarity that I often find myself seeking the full depths of when it makes itself known; but it is still just out of grasp.
I almost wonder if we have been in this position before, but Locane causes the thought to pull back in when he asks me, “Have you done this before?” He rubs his nose against the tip of mine while he waits for me to answer.
A slight twinge of self-consciousness eats into me when the truth comes out. “No, I don’t think so.”
And suddenly, although this feels so right, I’m so very frightened and almost unsure.
He nods twice and brushes a gentle kiss across my lips. “I didn’t think so. We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to do everything all at once.”
His placating words send me an instant wave of relief, and my nearly forgotten desire returns as he brings his mouth back to mine, his lips less frantic and rough than before.
Locane pushes the hair back from my face with one hand and then slowly slides that hand down the side of my cheek, my neck, brushing lightly past my collar bone with fingertips that slow more and more the further south they get. My breath hitches with each downward caress. The sensations mount inch by delicate inch. The maddening slowness with which he moves is becoming torture, and I writhe beneath him, seeking any touch, any friction, on my most sensitive body parts.
Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he finally reaches my breast and palms it, squeezing gently before hooking a finger in thecollar of my shirt and pulling it down in a swift movement. My breast springs free, and I gasp. Locane draws my nipple into his mouth before I can do anything. Stop him, encourage him. I don’t know. My nerves are so alight with these brand-new sensations that it’s almost too much.
I’m certain I’ve never been touched like this before.
Locane scrapes his teeth over the hardened peak, and I moan and shudder beneath him. His hips pushing down on me further to hold me in place only add to the inferno building between my thighs.
He pulls his mouth free with a light pop. I pull his face back to mine, using the action to convey I want more. This building within me will culminate in something, and even if it’s my own destruction, I’ll take it as long as it’s seen through to the end.
With my pleading encouragement, his fingers quickly reach the waistband of my loose pants. Locane pauses for only half a heartbeat, looking down at me in that instance to give me a chance to back out. But I don’t. With my lack of resistance, he loses all abandon and moves those fingers quickly into my underwear, and he swears at how wet I am.
His mouth is back on mine, and his tongue forces its way in as he simultaneously plunges his pointer finger deep within me. He wastes no time coaxing my pleasure to new heights as he hooks his finger inside me and pushes with steady thrusts.
I grind into his hand, my motion against him causes his palm to brush against my overly sensitive clit. I cry out, knowing that the pleasure building within me is going to come crashing down on me soon—and I’m begging for it.
“Please.”
Literally begging.
He nips at my bottom lip and then says, “Come for me.”
I instantly crash from the peak to which he brought me with his commanding words.
My walls pulse around him while I breathe out loud and ragged exhales. His finger is still moving in and out of me with each wave of my pleasure until those crashing waves have stopped.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat, murmuring curses over and over, nearly incoherent, having not yet come back down to this planet. His finger stills inside of me but doesn’t leave. I can feel him looking at me, taking me in while my eyes are screwed tight, my mind and body both trying to recover from what has just happened.
Locane only removes himself from inside of me when my stream of expletives stops. He kisses my lips softly, but I’m unable to return it as not one of my muscles is working correctly.
And then his warm weight is off me.
I snap my eyes open in time to see him walk through the doorway without a single word.
Gulping in fresh air, I correct my clothing and sit in shock for a minute. My body is still warm and tingly with the intense pleasure of the orgasm he just gave me.
This is not at all the turn I expected this day to take, and I’m honestly not sure if I want to walk out the door right now—leave and never come back—or run him down and ask him to do it again. I’m not sure if I want to laugh and revel in the pleasure and relief from our actions, or if I want to go hide and cry.
Composing myself, I ignore the sinking in my stomach. Before I even get up from the couch, my thighs still slicked with my arousal, I can tell that everything has changed. I’m just not quite sure how yet.
There’s no denying the enjoyment I felt during that encounter, but Locane has never made me feel anything positive. Even when I try to explore our familiarity, it hasn’t gone beyond wondering what it means.
