Page 62 of That Rush

His mouth returns to my clit.

Every stroke of his tongue is firmer now, his fingers matching the desperate rhythm of my hips. He watches me lose control, never looking away when my thighs begin to shake.

“Give it to me, sweetheart.”

The orgasm hits hard. My back arches from the mattress, and his name leaves me in a broken cry as my pussy clenches around his fingers. Aiden keeps his mouth on my clit and his hand steady, drawing out every shudder until the pleasure becomes too much and I tug his hair to pull him up.

He eases away at once.

I lie there trembling while he presses a kiss to my inner thigh. When he looks up, his mouth is wet and his expression is deeply satisfied.

“Don’t say it,” I say.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I’m thinking several things.”

He rises over me and kisses my stomach, then the space between my breasts. By the time his mouth reaches mine, my breathing has slowed enough to kiss him back. I taste myself on his lips, and the intimacy of it sends another weak pulse through my oversensitive body.

His hand cups my cheek. The tenderness after everything he just did strips away the last excuse to perform for him.

“Was that really new?” he asks.

“Some of it.”

“Which part?”

I look at the man waiting for an answer instead of supplying one for me.

“Most of it.” I trace my thumb along his jaw. “I’ve had two partners before. Neither of them paid attention like this.”

Aiden stills after my confession.

The silence lasts long enough for embarrassment to creep in. He brushes his mouth over mine and stops it from settling.

“Two men had access to this gorgeous body and wasted it.”

I laugh, even though my face is still warm. “That’s your thoughtful response?”

“No. The thoughtful response has more profanity.”

He kisses my forehead, then eases off the bed. “Bathroom?”

“Across the hall.”

Aiden returns with a warm washcloth and a glass of water. He sits beside me and cleans me with the same attention he gave every touch that came before it, gentle now that my body is oversensitive.

“You’re dangerously good at this,” I say.

“I pay attention.”

“I noticed.”

His eyes lift to mine. “Any soreness?”

“Only enough to remember why.”