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Erica springs up into a sitting position, swinging her legs off the bed to perch on the edge of the mattress with her hands clamped over it. Shoulders slumped, she stares down at the floor.
Bloody hell. How am I meant to stick to my own rules when she keeps looking so…dejected? Hurting her gives me a strange sensation in my gut, like icy worms slithering around in there.
I can't stop myself from settling a hand on her back and gliding it up in slow circles.
She leans into my touch.
And those worms stop slithering. An odd warmth sprouts in my chest—until she speaks again.
"Don't you want to know anything about me?" she asks. "I don't know that much about you. You have brothers and sisters and once showed a girl your penis in a barn, that's about it." She yanks the sheet around her waist, covering her erse and groin. "I don't know your favorite color, your favorite song, anything."
I groan and let my hand fall away from her back. She wants answers, and I can't blame her for that. Maybe she'll be satisfied with a piece of the truth.
While I pluck at the sheet, I grumble, "My favorite color is blue. I don't have a favorite song. What else would you like to know?"
She covers her eyes with her hands.
Mhac na galla. My grumpy tone has made her miserable again, and those worms come back to life in my gut. Why her unhappiness makes me feel miserable too, I have no ruddy idea. It does. That's all I know.
I exhale a long, resigned sigh, then slip an arm around her waist, urging her to lie down on the bed. She lands on her back, her head on the pillow. I straddle her body with my face hovering above hers, those hazel eyes shimmering with an emotion I refuse to consider, though the look she's giving me triggers that odd warmth in my chest again, and my throat goes thick. I brace myself on my elbows with my hands on either side of her face and comb my fingers through her hair. "I want to know everything about you, but I'll be leaving soon. Can we not just enjoy this time together?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Good."
The sadness has vacated her expression, so I believe she means it.
And I feel better, happier, knowing she isn't upset anymore. Not for the moment, at least.
I nibble on her lower lip, thrusting my tongue out to sneak it between her lips for a quick taste of her. She moans, shoving her hand into my hair as if she's desperate to tug me closer. I resist at first, scraping my mouth over hers until she opens for me. Then I seize the chance to plaster my lips to her mouth while I forge my tongue deep, lashing it against hers, starved for the flavor of her mouth. She sucks on my tongue, making me groan.
As much as I'd love to kiss her for hours, I have a promise to keep. So I peel my mouth away and shift off her, my leg pressed to hers and my erection jutting over her belly.
She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, then drags her teeth across it.
I push my hand between her thighs and urge her to spread them wide, granting me full access to her rosy, glistening flesh. Parting her folds with my thumb and forefinger, I slide my middle finger down to stroke her.
She chokes back a throaty cry and fists her hands in the sheets, planting her heels on the mattress, knees bent.
Erica is the most sensual woman on earth. I need to make her come for me, several times, before I take her body and give us both what we need. I pet her folds with my thumb and forefinger while I sweep my middle finger up and down her slick flesh. Her soft, panting breaths spur me to swirl the tip of my finger around her nub, over and over, harder and harder, until I finally thrust my fingertip into the stiff head of her clit.
Erica bucks into my fingers, thrashing her hips in a desperate plea for more.
"You like this," I rumble, pressing my cheek to hers. "What else do you like?"
"Oh," she breathes while I toy with her nub. She clutches at my shoulders, clawing and whimpering. "I like e-everything you do to me."
I plunge my finger into her sheath.
Her back arches, and her mouth falls open, though no sound emerges.
My breaths come heavier and faster, just like hers.
"Erica." I almost growl her name, my voice roughened by the need pulsating through me. "Do ye want mah hand or mah mouth?"
She writhes and sinks her nails into my shoulders while I twirl my finger around her clit. "Mouth, please."
I gaze down at her wet flesh, my senses filled with the intoxicating scent of her desire, and drag my tongue across my lips in one long sweep. "I need to feast on ye. Now."
