Page 21 of Gold & Shadow

“Gods,” I gasped, sliding my fingers through his soft hair. “What are you doing?”

“Feasting,” he replied, moving his tongue as if he wanted to explore every crevice of me. “I’ve been wearing a shirt that smells like you all fucking day, and all I’ve wanted since putting it on is to bury by face between your legs.”

I made an absolutely indecent moan, and he rumbled another laugh against me, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.

“Please tell me I am the first to taste you,” Orson growled, his tongue finding a rhythm as he began to circle, the throbbing place between my legs aching for more.

“Territorial,” I breathed, tugging on his hair. “But yes.”

“Good,” he growled, his speed increasing as he began to experiment, sliding his tongue inside me between strokes. “Because this is mine now.”

One hand reached up, gently pinching and flicking a nipple as his other moved down. Pressure at my entrance started pleasure spiraling in me, and I almost came undone as he slid a finger into me.

“Not yet,” he murmured, gently stroking that finger in tandem with his tongue. “I need you to tell me how you like it. Is this too fast?” He flicked his tongue over my tightened bud, making me squirm with pleasure. “Too slow?” He moved his tongue in a slow circle around my center.

“Just right,” I gasped, feeling so much all at once it was a little overwhelming. Heat and friction and pleasure and just the slightest edge of pain all swirled together, building a pressure that needed release. “Orson, please.”

Orson rumbled a sound of masculine pleasure against me, continuing his pace and the delicious, torturous build until finally, I shattered. I cried out, twisting my fingers into his hair as if my hold on him were the only thing mooring me to the bed. The moment.

Little waves of pleasure swept through me as Orson kissed my inner thigh, my knee, my ankle, and stood. “Now, these come off,” he said, unlacing his own trousers and removing the final barrier between us.

“Gods,” I whimpered, taking in the size of him. The length. “I’m not sure how this will work.”

Orson chuckled, scooping me up and plopping me back down unceremoniously on the bed before climbing over me and shifting to my side, where he propped himself up to look at me.

“You should know,” he murmured, twirling a strand of golden hair around his finger, “that it will be different from your otherexperience.”

He said the word “experience” as if mocking my single sexual encounter, and I scowled at him, wanting his mouth to be doing anything other than speaking at that moment. “Explain quickly.”

He laughed, trailing his fingers over my bare skin and circling sensitive peaks and valleys in a way that was definitely keeping my interest away from talking.

“Bears have a baculum,” he said, his fingers drawing patterns over my stomach and dipping lower. “It’s a bone that keeps us erect for longer than what you might consider average.”

“Why?” I asked, the question coming out breathy as his fingers dipped between my legs, brushing the already sensitive flesh there.

“For reasons that would take far too long to explain right now,” he growled, slipping a finger into me and back out again in a way that was both agonizing and glorious. “Just know that it will last longer. I’ll be in you for longer. And if you don’t want that,” he punctuated the statement with another gentle thrust of fingers, “we can continue to explore other avenues of pleasure.”

He dipped his mouth, taking a peaked nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. It was all I could do not to cry out.

“I want it,” I breathed, reaching down to stroke his hard length from root to tip. Orson shuddered in a way that made me feel like a goddess, completely in control of his desire. “Please.”

Gods, he was so hard. And long. I wanted every inch of him.

He moved above me, leaning down to suck one nipple and then the other as he positioned himself. “Use your shadows if you want me to stop,” he murmured, capturing my mouth with his as he pushed in.

And in and in and in.

There was so much sensation. Filling and stretching and friction and weight. He cupped the back of my neck with the hand of the arm he had braced against the bed, using the other to guide my hips up to meet his until he was fully seated.

“Lis,” he murmured, kissing me too deeply for me to reply in anything other than a muffled moan as he began a slow, torturous slide out of me again. “Are you alright?”

“Gods, yes,” I moaned, feeling my pulse skitter with the delicious friction he was creating. “Too slow.”

“Trying for gentle, remember?” He nipped at my lower lip, holding himself steady as he almost pulled entirely away before plunging back in.

The sound I made might have been embarrassing had I not been fully invested in the sensations of the moment. His tongue plundering my mouth while his hard length plunged into me was a glorious contrast of sensations, and I arched into his touch, letting my shadows out to wrap around him and bind him to me.

“Now who’s territorial?” he teased, noting the shadows twining up his arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”