Page 14 of UnTrained: Volume Two
His mouth closes over my nipple, and I gasp at the wet heat of his tongue. Pleasure spirals through me, sharp and sweet, making my back arch involuntarily. His hand splays across my ribcage, steadying me as his teeth graze the sensitive peak.
"You taste so good," he whispers, his breath cool against my damp skin. "I've wanted this since I first saw you."
The confession sends a wave of heat through me. Since he first saw me? That day at the facility, when I was trembling with fear and confusion? It seems impossible that he could have wanted me then, when I was so broken.
"Even then?" I whisper, unable to hide my surprise.
His eyes meet mine, dark with desire but clear with truth. "Even then. Not because of your submission under duress, but because I saw glimpses of the real you fighting to survive."
His mouth returns to my breast, drawing another gasp from me as his tongue circles my nipple. His free hand skims down my side, over the curve of my hip, fingers tracing patterns that make my skin prickle with goosebumps.
"So beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "So responsive."
His hand continues its journey down my thigh, then back up along the inside, approaching the heat between my legs but not quite touching where I'm beginning to ache for him. The anticipation makes me squirm beneath him, my hips lifting slightly in silent invitation.
"Patience," he says, the word both gentle and commanding. "We have all the time in the world."
His command sends a thrill through me, even as frustration builds. I want his touch where I'm growing wet and achy, but I also crave this slow exploration, this careful reintroduction to pleasure without pain.
Aiden's mouth travels lower, leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach. My muscles tense and flutter beneath his lips, my breathing becoming more ragged with each inch he conquers.When he reaches the curve of my hip, he pauses, looking up at me from beneath his lashes.
"Still okay?" he asks, his breath warm against my sensitive skin.
"Yes," I whisper, my fingers tightening around the bed frame. "Please don't stop."
A smile curves his lips, something predatory that makes heat pool between my thighs. "I have no intention of stopping," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Not until you've remembered what pleasure feels like."
He settles between my legs, his broad shoulders gently pressing my thighs wider apart. The position should make me feel vulnerable, exposed, but all I feel is anticipation. His blue eyes hold mine as he lowers his head, and the first touch of his mouth against my sex sends a jolt of pleasure so intense I cry out, my back arching off the bed.
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let me hear you."
His tongue traces me with deliberate slowness, exploring every fold, every sensitive spot. I struggle to keep my hands wrapped around the bed frame as waves of sensation crash through me. This is nothing like the clinical touches at the facility, nothing like the pain disguised as pleasure they tried to condition me to accept. This is pure, unfiltered bliss.
When his tongue circles my clit, I moan, unable to contain the sound. The pleasure is almost too much after so long without gentle touch. Aiden's hands grip my thighs, holding me open for his mouth as he works me with his tongue. Each stroke brings me closer to something I've almost forgotten—the building tension, the climbing pleasure that promises release.
"Aiden," I gasp, my hips lifting to meet his mouth. "I can't—it's too?—"
"You can," he says, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes meet mine, dark with desire. "Let go, Lana. I've got you."
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His words unlock something inside me. Under his skilled tongue, the pleasure builds to a crescendo I can't fight. My thighs begin to tremble, my fingers clutching the bed frame so tightly my knuckles turn white. The tension coils tighter, winding me up until I'm balanced on the edge of something magnificent and terrifying.
When release finally comes, it crashes through me like a wave breaking against the shore. I cry out, my body arching as pleasure radiates outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. For a moment, I'm floating, disconnected from everything except the exquisite sensations washing through me.
"That's it," Aiden murmurs against my thigh, pressing gentle kisses there as I shudder through the aftershocks. "So beautiful when you let go."
I'm still trembling when he moves up my body, his weight settling over me like a protective blanket. His lips find mine, and I taste myself on his tongue, a primal intimacy that makes me moan softly against his mouth.
"How do you feel?" he asks, brushing hair from my face with gentle fingers.
"Alive," I whisper.
The word feels insufficient. It's more than just being alive. It's like I've been underwater for months, lungs burning, vision clouded, and now I've finally broken the surface and taken that first desperate gulp of air.
Aiden's weight above me is anchoring, not crushing. His blue eyes search mine, looking for any sign of distress or regret. But there is none. Only wonder at how something that was twisted into a weapon against me can be reclaimed as something beautiful.
"You can let go of the headboard now," he says, his voice gentle.
