I tell myself that. And still, I can seem to find a way to ground myself.
“Sparrow.”
I hear his voice, and everything in my body responds to it. Responds to him. As though I’m relieved to see my captor, as though I wish to be back in my cage. I am momentarily immobilized by how much I despise that. By how much I despise myself, but then he comes around the corner, and I see something genuinely like fear on his face. The moonlight illuminates his blond hair, his eyes so pale they’re almost white.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I just needed a break.”
“I thought you ran away. Or perhaps worse, had harmed yourself.”
He’s expressed worry about that twice, and I can’t help but wonder why. I already know he’s nothing like any of the rumors suggest. He’s interesting. He has the soul of a poet, and the body of a warrior. He has the ruthlessness of a warrior too, but people can contain multitudes.
He cares about my happiness—unless what I want makes him unhappy. He definitely cares about his own more.
He’s a mystery.
“I’m not going to hurt myself,” I say.
“I didn’t know,” he says. He moves close to me, and he drops down to his knees in front of me. He’s close, and as glorious as the garden smells, he’s better. My heart is thundering so hard it’s the loudest sound for me right now. My mouth is dry; my body is on high alert. And my science brain is nowhere to be found.
He reaches up and touches my face, his thumb tracing the outline of my lower lip. “Do not run from me,” he says, his voice rough. “I thought you ran away.”
I shake my head. “I gave you my word, Lucian. I’m not a liar.”
He breathes out, a sigh that almost sounds like relief. “Yes. That is true.” Then he shifts his hold on me, his hand going to cup my cheek, the hold possessive, firm. My heart is beating hard still, but this isn’t fear. It’s different. My chest aches, the sensation more of a throb right at the center of my breastbone. And then, more disturbing, I feel an answering throb at the center of my thighs. I can’t help but think about what my sister said. That he looks like he would be good at sex. I’ve never given that a thought. Certainly Eve knows what sort of man might be good at it.
I wouldn’t. I would have nothing to compare it to, and very few fantasies to even call up and try to apply his image to. And yet I’m not so foolish that I don’t understand what’s happening to my body. His closeness is…is making me want him.
Want.
What a strange thought. Me wanting this man. This man who is holding me captive. This man who seemedscaredat the idea that I might’ve run from him.
He releases his hold on me, and turns his attention to my ankle. He wraps his large hand around it, lifts it up and rests my foot against his chest.
“What?”
I can’t conjure a thought or get out a sentence, because he begins to push my dress up my legs, revealing my bare skin to the night air. He adjusts my leg, puts it up on his shoulder and begins to draw closer as he pushes my dress up higher. My eyes go wide, and he inserts himself between my thighs, pressing my other leg out far, my dress now up all the way, so that he’s staring at the golden underwear that I put on before the dress. The underwear is very pretty, but I’ve never had anyone look at me like this, and I feel nothing but embarrassment. I’m a liar.
I don’tonlyfeel embarrassment. He looks up at me, his gaze hungry, and I’m sure he sees hunger mirrored in mine. But also wonder, confusion. Fear. I don’t want him to stop, though. I want him to keep going. I want him to show me.
I want him to solve this puzzle for me.
Then he puts his hand on my bare thigh, drawing his fingertip to the sensitive skin at the crease, pushing beneath the fabric of my panties.
My breath catches as he grazes my most intimate flesh. He growls, a sound of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He’s never kissed me. Right as I think that, he leans in and kisses my inner thigh. The sensation is like a shock wave through my body.
“Let me show you why you should stay with me,” he says, kissing his way up toward that golden triangle between my legs, ripping the fabric to the side, and closing his mouth over my flesh. He takes no quarter, and I can’t believe the intimacy that he’s claiming. His tongue slides through my folds, moves ruthlessly over the sensitive bundle of nerves there. And I can’t help but react.
My hips fly up off the bench, and he wraps his free arm around me, drawing me tighter against his mouth as he continues to lick me. Until he’s devouring me like the dragon that I feared him to be. The pleasure is otherworldly. Like nothing I’ve even imagined. I thought that because I knew how to bring myself to the peak that I understood something about sexual pleasure. But I don’t. Because in that situation I was always in control of it. How fast, how intense. I have no control here. It’s all him. His wicked lips, his tongue. I hear the sounds of pleasure that he’s making, pleasure that’s coming from tasting me. There.
I have no choice but to surrender. I’m lost. Lost to reality. Lost to the earth itself. I might as well be among the stars.
I hear the sound of my panties tearing, pulled entirely free of my body. Then with both hands, he grips my rear and holds me against his mouth as he consumes me. He shifts, putting his hand between my legs, using it in conjunction with his tongue before he pushes two fingers deep inside of me, the pain and pleasure mixing, along with the unfamiliar sensation of deep penetration, sending me right over the edge.
My internal muscles squeeze tight around his fingers as I cry out with pleasure. With abandon. Without care that someone might hear. I find a hand over my mouth then as I continue to ride the wave. He pulls me from the bench, onto his lap, holds me against him, keeps his hand firmly pressed on my mouth as the aftershocks continue on through my body.
“Don’t announce it, sparrow,” he whispers against my head.
