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I sniff. “That’s more like it.”
Chuckling, he fists my hair and pulls me back down to meet his lips. One hand slides between us to tease me through my underwear until I’m squirming, trying to get him to touch the spot I really want him to.
When he moves me around, placing me on the sofa and pushing my knees up, I don’t question him. Rowan knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows how to please a woman. I’ve learned to fully relax and let him do what he does best.
He slips two fingers between my folds and strokes. His movements are shallower and a little rougher than usual, and the way he curls his digits inside me feels incredible. My delighted moans fill the room. I feel myself about to shatter, but it feels different, more intense than the orgasms I normally have. I didn’t think that was possible. I just might die—and float all the way to heaven.
“Rowan...” His name tumbles from my lips because I’m a little confused about the unfamiliar sensation.
“Feels good?”
“Amazing,” I breathe.
“Then just relax,” he whispers, increasing his pace and watching me with a knowing look.
As I’m wondering what he’s waiting to see, the pressure building inside me snaps. A gasp escapes me when fluid gushes out like a champagne bottle being popped open. After the uncontrollable quaking of my body subsides and some of my wits return, I gawk at Rowan. My limbs feel like liquid, so I just lay there. Embarrassment sets in when I see that his hand and the white sheet he still has around him are drenched with my fluids.
“I’m so...” My apology dies when I see the satisfaction on his face. “Did I just... I didn’t know I could do that.” My face is about ready to melt off.
He pulls me up so that I straddle him again. “That’s because you’ve finally becomecompletelycomfortable with me.” He grins. “Good girl.”
For some reason, I get a kick out of him saying those two words during sex.
“Time to make you cum again, my little artist.”
That makes me blush and giggle at the same time. He does so, over and over. It’s official, no other lover will ever compare. I’m panting and exhausted—in the best way—when he plunges into me for the final time and explodes. He lets out a string of expletives as my walls spasm around him. I watch the pleasure dance across his face before I sag against him, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Grace,” he pants, “I can’t tell you enough how incredible you are.”
I bask in his words and the after-sex bliss. “You don’t expect me to ever move from this sofa, do you? Because I’mdone.”
Still pressed against him, the vibration of his laughter feels so good. Content, I close my eyes and revel in his embrace.
Chapter 8
Rowan
