Page 45 of Light in the Dark
His weight shifts. His lips nuzzle mine. "Hey, it's okay. It's fine. I understand."
I shake my head. "You don't. You can't." I force my eyes open, knowing they shimmer wetly. "I'm using you, Fee. I need to—I need this. I can't explain it. But Ineedit. And I can't give you what you want. I'm sorry, Fee, I'm—I'm fucking—"
His mouth slams painfully into mine, shutting me up instantly as he kisses me—a hard, greedy, bruising kiss. I groan into his mouth at the sweep of his tongue, desperately lose myself in the kiss, throw myself into it. Heat builds behind my chest, swells behind my navel, spreads to my core, throbs in my sex, pulses in my clit.
He teases my slit with his finger, swiping up and down in short strokes against the lips with his fingernail, and I twitch at each slide, shiver at each touch. I whimper again as he sucks my tongue into his mouth and then opens his for me, offering himself to me, growling as I take his mouth, taste his tongue, his lips, his teeth.
He adjusts his weight to free his other hand, and now he's kissing me and teasing my pussy and caressing my tits, and my whimper becomes a gasp, and the gasp becomes a moan. When I moan, he growls, biting my lower lip, and then kisses his way down to my breasts. His mouth seizes my nipple while his fingers roll and tweak the other one, and now I'm gone, hips bucking as that searing shaft of heat and electricity crashes through me, lancing straight to my clit as if there's a live wire connecting my nipples to my clit.
When he nips one and pinches the other, I nearly come right then, crying out in a shrill voice—that's when his finger slips inside me, one thick digit penetrating my slick flesh.
His finger hooks and curls, expertly finding my sensitive, sacred place and massaging it with his fingertip, while his mouth and other hand lick and twist, suckle and pinch.
I scream through gritted teeth as an orgasm rips open inside me, and then Felix is sliding his lips down my belly and his mouth fuses to my pussy and his tongue slithers against my clit, and my scream goes hoarse and then silent as my climax detonates into fiery fury.
I arch off the bed, grinding my pussy against his ravenous, relentless mouth, and my hands bury in his soft cool hair and I clutch him to me and scream and gasp and whimper and moan and flex and fuck and thrust, lost in the enthralling mayhem of an orgasm unlike any I've ever felt in my life.
He adds a finger, and then a third, and now he's fucking me with his fingers, slicking them in and out and in and out, curling them in against my G-spot with each thrust, and his tongue is thrashing my clit side to side and up and down and circles in a patternless assault, and my pussy clamps around his sliding, plunging fingers and my screams are wild and loud and hoarse. He finds my nipple with his unoccupied hand and pinches it with sharp, rough pressure in a pulsing pattern timed to my clamping, clenching inner walls, and the orgasm shatters once more inside me, and I can't breathe for the intensity of it, can't scream, can't move—I'm bowed up off the bed, only my shoulders and heels pressed against the mattress.
I fall, crunch inward, sucking in a sobbing, overwhelmed, shuddering gasp of oxygen, but his tongue swipes against me and his fingers fuck into me. I'm shaking all over, shuddering and spasming and curling inward and arching upward as wave after wave after crash through me.
Weeping uncontrollably, I none too gently shove Felix away from my pussy and clamp my legs closed, curling into a tiny ball as the waves wrack me like the aftershocks of an earthquake. He scoops me up in his arms and settles on the bed with me on his lap, sheltered in his arms, and he cradles my face on his bare, hard chest and his heart thuds steadily and comfortingly under my ear, and I cannot stop crying.
He just holds me through it—yet again.
When I come back to myself and my eyes are dry, I realize I must have passed out.
I blink up at him. "Did—did I pass out?"
He strokes my hair out of my face, smiling down at me with what can only be described as self-satisfied pride. "For a few minutes."
"How long is a few?" I ask.
A shrug. "Five minutes, maybe. Not long."
"Oh." I lick my lips, a different kind of desire flaming to life within me. "Felix, that was…hot as fuck."
"Yes, it certainly was." His lips brush my ear as he murmurs. "Getting to touch you, getting to see your gorgeous, perfect naked body, getting to make you come? Fucking privilege, honey."
"Fee," I whisper. "Don’t be sweet. I can’t handle it."
"I should be an asshole?"
I hold my forefinger and thumb apart an inch. "Maybe a tiny bit of asshole. For the sake of my heart."
He rumbles a laugh. "Not sure I can do that. You deserve all the sweetness in the fuckin' world, Ember."
I cannot answer that. I don't even examine it. Instead, I focus on the sensations in my body.
Limp, boneless, jellied legs. Still-twitching belly and core. Aching, throbbing nipples. Flushed, tingling skin. Heavy breasts.
What else?
Desire.
To touch. To give. To take.
I slide off of his body so my head is on his chest but my body is on the bed, and I look at him, taking in the hard planes of his face, the set of his jaw, the haze in his eyes. Soak in the glory of his muscled, shredded body, the anvil slabs of his pecs, the grooved wonderland of his abs. His boxer-briefs stretch around narrow hips, bulging with the hard-on he's been rocking for at least half an hour now, without letting me so much as touch it. Thick, hairy thighs, densely muscled and as defined as the rest of him.
