AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I was-“
My words die, as he sucks at my clit severely, and the flat of his tongue follows it to wind an orgasm out of me that is almost here anyway. I can feel it building with every next breath, every next swipe and roll of his mouth. My head tips back to stare up at the chandelier, glazed eyes taking in the crystal droplets as they shimmer dim light down on us.
Too much.
Not enough.
I squirm and try changing the angle, unable to process sensation other than agony and tease. He doesn’t let me, just keeps up with more torture and leisurely intent. It only takes a few more seconds and I’m so desperate to let it go, it shudders through me without me making it happen. Shivers ride over me because of it, my nails bedded into the sheets and my breath panting and laboured.
I groan as he keeps going, his tongue heavy and purposeful. More licks. More sucking. More tight muscles keeping me still as he holds me firmly and refuses to finish until he’s ready for more orgasms to end.
One more trembles through me quickly, this time reaching my heart and making it beat faster and harder than the first. And still he keeps going. “Gray, please,” I plead, desperately squirming to get away from the continued slow attack. No more. “I can’t …”
He chuckles and loosens his grip a little, eventually sliding his arms from beneath me to crawl his way up my body. I stare and pant, watching his hardened features and solid, naked frame climbing until he’s over me. It gives me pause, regardless of the moment, to look him over.
I’ve never taken in all of him like he has done me when naked, never been given the time. Unashamed. Large yet lean. Looming even. Muscles move, ribs and bones holding the run of abs taut over his stomach. There’s nothing pretty about it. It’s harsh and solid, unforgiving and immovable. The only thing softening is the smatter of dark hair over his broad chest, and the glistening of me still on his lips.
He tilts his head at me as I survey what’s on offer, a slight smirk on his face. I smile at that and stretch, languid and unhurried now I’m awake. And then I wonder why he’s here at all, or why we’re doing this when he was so callous towards me earlier. He’s in my face before I can question any further than that, inches from my face and still smirking at something.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Am I?
Why say that?
I turn my head slightly, unable to deal with nice words if they don’t mean anything to him, and ignore the chuckle and brush of his lips on my cheek. “Always were. Right from the moment I saw you at the opera.” I frown. I was crying there. A mess of grief and worries. I’m not anymore. “You hid from me in dark recesses, nothing but the slither of your dress on show for me. Are you hiding again, Hannah?” Hid? I wasn’t hiding when he saw me. “I thought you’d evolved.”
I have.
I turn back to look at him, my own lips less than a breath away from his because of the move. “Why are you doing this again?” I murmur.
“Couldn’t deny it. Tried. Failed.” His lips kiss me briefly. “And I’m still hungry for you.”
“I …“ I don’t know what to say to that.
I stare, unsure what this might be becoming.
We are nothing but what we were when these bruises happened on my skin. He said that. And this softness and calm is not him. It’s someone new, someone I don’t know.
I whimper without consent, as his fingers run quietly over my ribs and tickle them with gentle pads. Quiet. So quiet. Nothing but his calm breath on my face and his hands wandering tenderly. One reaches my thigh and spreads it out to the side, the hand trailing down between my legs the moment I yield. He moves his body lower with the move, dipping his face to get to my breasts and settling his weight between my thighs.
“More beauty,” he murmurs.
His tongue flicks over them, slow and sensuous until the peaked nipples yearn for more pressure on them. That combined with the hand teasing softly on my swollen, heated pussy, and I squirm for something more from him. Nothing happens. It all just continues. Slowly, quietly, tenderly.
I watch him, part of me desperate to touch him and another part not willing to give in to whatever this is. I can’t. As he said – this is nothing, and I know, I know with every fibre of me, and every thought I’ve already had, that if I give in now, if I let this feeling consume me like the other did, I’ll crumble and be unable to bear the thought of anything less.
My eyes snap shut at the potential threat to my heart, attempting separation. I have to. It has to stay as nothing more than sex and lust. That’s it. He’s said it enough himself. And this is neither helping nor healing what has already begun to ache and yearn. Tears build under my eyes. I can feel them haunting and tormenting me with visions and possibilities that aren’t ours. They hurt.
The thought of him leaving me hurts.
“Hannah?” I shake my head, hands out to the side of me and my body as still as it possibly can be with his fingers still dancing over me. “Open your eyes for me.” Another head shake, lips clamped closed. Not saying anything. Not opening my eyes.
He chuckles lowly and moves his weight, heightening the feel of his broad chest over mine, and widening my legs. The chain moves on my wrist, the metal slipping and sliding around it. I’m not feeling that either. No. No chains on combined wrists. No attachment. No connection or sentiment that might make me want more.
“Why?” he asks, his breath filtering over my lips.
Still I don’t answer or open my eyes, not even when he kisses me softly and pushes his arm under my back to pull me closer to him, and definitely not when I feel the head of him start pushing inside me. A moan filters out, though. I can’t stop it, as his length fills me up and makes me remember. It pulls out slowly and pushes back in again, as tenderly as his words breathe from his lips.
Another moan falls from me, another snatched breath in the hope that I can dismiss this as easily as he will do, but his arms are so strong around me, his body so solid and close. I need to see, watch his eyes as he does this and wonder things I shouldn’t be thinking about.
