Page 49 of Eye of the Hurricane
He withdraws his finger before adding a second to the mix. This time when he enters me, there’s the faintest pinch. It stings slightly, but in a way that makes me want to feel it a hundred times over.
“Oh fuck,” I pant out. “That’s better, a lot better.”
“You love getting stretched out, don’t you, Kat?” he asks, setting a steady pace with his hand, curling and rubbing the pads of his fingers over a sensitive area every couple of pumps. I’m a moaning mess now, unable to hold it in like I was before. He takes my sounds as an answer.
“Well guess what, honey? I love stretching you out. So I guess that makes us the perfect match.”
“You have a dirty mouth,” I state. My voice comes out so whiny that I hardly recognize it as my own.
“And you love it,” he says. He sucks my other nipple into his mouth, letting it go with a pop. “Don’t you?”
I consider lying. Egging him on by telling him I don’t care for it. But it’s useless. I’m at his mercy right now and he knows it.
The familiar sparks of pleasure shoot up my spine and fizzle low in my abdomen, a million times more intense than when I touch myself. I don’t know what the hell this man is doing to me but at this rate, I’ll let him do it forever.
He curls his fingers into the same delicious spot as before. I cry out, back bowing off the mattress. He slides his free hand up to cover my mouth, muffling my sounds.
“I’ve got you. Come for me,” he whispers lowly in my ear. His words and the bass in his voice only heighten the feeling building in my core.
His hand is clasped tightly over my mouth so I can’t say a word. All I can do is let out muffled whimpers and moans against his palm. I’m a wreck and he’s the only tie holding me to earth. He talks me through every second of it, telling me how good I’m doing, how pretty I sound, and how badly he wishes it were his cock instead of his fingers.
I don’t get the chance to say a word back to him. Hedoesn’t lift his hand until I’ve rode out the orgasm and stopped making sounds against his palm.
When he finally lets me go, I’m lying on my back, chest heaving. My eyes flick over to him. Right in that moment, he’s bringing his glistening fingers up to his mouth. He sticks his tongue out slightly, sliding his fingers against it and sucking them clean.
All I can do is watch with my mouth agape. The second his mouth closes around his fingers, he lets out a ragged breath and drops his forehead against my chest, snapping his eyes shut.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “I just came in my pants like I’m fucking sixteen,” he admits with a loud sigh. Something that feels a lot like pride glows inside of me.
“That’s…reallyfucking hot,” I admit. He looks up at me like I have three eyes.
“Are you joking?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“You just came the second you tasted me. That’s really good for the ego, Ares. It makes me feel sexy,” I admit. He laughs a little.
He rolls flat on his back and pulls me into him. I lay my head on his chest. The only sounds around me are the beat of his heart and the quiet nature sounds outside our tent. It’s a moment I could get lost in.
“How are you?” he mumbles against the top of my hair.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve just been a little in my head about making sure you’re comfortable in all of this.” I can feel the whole fragile virgin pipeline looming in the air. I don’t give him the chance, I nip it in the bud.
“I’m a grown woman, I can handle sex and foreplay just fine. I know about sex, I have sex toys, I’m not saving myselffor my one true love or anything, I just haven’t made time for it until now. You don’t have to treat me like I’m breakable because I haven’t been fucked before,” I scold. His brows pinch together.
“I know you can handle anything that’s thrown at you, Kat. It wasn’t supposed to be an insult to your independence. I just want to handle a delicate thing like it’s… delicate.” He sticks his hand up to stop me from cutting in. “Sex, not you,” he specifies.
“I appreciate it, I do. I just don’t buy into the whole—” He cuts me off quickly
“I know, virginity is a social construct. Have I ever told you I think it’s sexy how opinionated you are?” he asks, tongue sliding against his top teeth. A crooked smirk falls on his face.
“Are you talking dirty to me?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“I already ruined my sweatpants, what more do you want from me?”
We laythere for far too long, just making conversation and staring at each other. I imagine it’s what most couples do after they have sex. Although we didn’t have sex, and we aren’t a couple.
At some point, he slips out of bed to put on a pair of clean boxers and sweatpants. He offers for me to sleep in his T-shirt. It’s tempting but it feels too… domestic. Instead, I opt for one of my comfy T-shirt dresses.
