Page 29 of Fire Kissed
We shouldn’t waste it, should we?
My fingers lower slowly, pressing to the hardness of his stomach just over his shirt. Torben’s gaze drops to my touch before swinging recklessly back to my eyes. It feels teetering to touch him. Like I’m standing at the edge of the world, and I suddenly want to jump.
And so I do.
His shift wrinkles beneath my palm as I push slowly at the material, exposing the bronze planes of his stomach one little inch at a time. Lean hips shift beneath me. My own thighs tighten around him, wanting more than what we have, wanting to feel every single part of him against every single part of me.
The night is electric with emotions and adrenaline that sets my mind and heart ablaze. The warmth of his hands is even more fiery to my flesh, pushing higher and higher until the cool wind is skimming across my hips, abdomen, ribs. His traveling hands mirror my own. And when I slide my palms across his pecks, his own big hands cover my breasts fully. The air in my lungs wooshes out as my lashes flutter, and the coy hesitation we once held flies away into the night.
As good as he feels, I want to make him feel better. I want him to know what it feels like to be touched by someone who cares about him. All I want is to make him feel good in this moment.
I abandon the lean lines of his chest and pull back from his addicting touch. With both hands, I trail down his body like I’m bending down to worship a god who deserves my mind, body, and soul. And soon, he’ll have all three.
But not yet.
Confusion hoods his brow as I lean over him and ever so slowly, unbutton his dark jeans. That confusion lifts high into surprise as he watches me with rapt interest.
No one says a word, but I feel all three of them waiting with heavy attention.
The zipper pulls low in my hands. Only a thin layer of clothing separates me from him. My fingers hook under the elastic band, and I pull hard on either side of his hips. His eyes close, and I watch as he swallows hard, his head falling back with a weight that I know has too many thoughts and worries pulling at his pretty mind.
Just below me, his length is there and waiting and yet... all I can focus on is the torment he’s struggling with. He... wants me... but he doesn’t know how to let himself have me.
Without the dark past of her staining his thoughts.
“Torben?” I whisper, trying to ground him here with me instead of whatever clawing memories might be slicing against the back of his mind.
“Mmm,” he says vacantly.
My fingers tangle with his once more, and at the last minute, I push his hand through my long, blonde locks.
“Will you hold my hair for me?”
His eyes open slowly at that request, and he stares down at me with innocent eyes.
“Of—of course,” he says on a low rumbling tone.
His grip on my locks becomes more serious and serving.
“Watch me?” I ask as I tilt my head at him, and his confusion deepens, but he nods. “Eyes on me,” I whisper as my breath fans against the thick shaft of his waiting cock.
His exhale is rugged and desperate. It’s the same desperation I see in his eyes as I keep my attention locked with his, part my lips, and lower my mouth over the slick head of his member.
The groan that drags from his throat is a delicious sound I can feel at my very core.
A swirling of my tongue is all I give him at first. A slow taunting that builds anticipation even through me. Heated attention burns across my features as he takes me in where I kneel with my head lowered to him in the most submissive way.
But I hold the power here.
My tongue slides all the way down him until he’s pressing against the back of my throat, and still I try for more. I take as much of him as I can over and over again, wanting to give him more than he’s ever had before.
“Fuck,” Aric hisses from somewhere, but I don’t look away from those hooded, green eyes.
Torben’s mouth parts with empty breaths, and just when I think he’s forgotten how to speak...
“Fuck, don’t stop.” His hand on the back of my head guides me down faster and faster, my throat wanting to constrict around him. A reflex is right there within me, but I refuse to give into the sensation of it.
Just when all I can do is focus entirely on Torben... someone reminds me of myself. And my own selfish needs: rough hands slide down the outer curves of my hips, trailing down until my ass shifts up into a higher position.
