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The hero throws the heroine down on the bed, pulls her clothes off and then his own, and then wrenches her legs apart, baring her to him completely. As I describe it in vivid detail, Willow whimpers.
“You like that?” I ask, unable to keep myself from tempting her. “I still won’t touch you, Solnyshka. But if you want your legs open, you can do it yourself. You want to spread them wide? Show me how wet you are?”
On the couch beside me, she slowly opens her legs. Even though no one is touching her, I can tell that she spreads them almost wider than is comfortable, as if she’s trying to mimic the feel of what I just described.
“It’s okay to still want it rough,” I tell her, my voice dropping low as I ignore the book for the moment. “There was nothing wrong with you for liking it that way before, and there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it that way now. No one can take that from you. No one can tell you how to feel.”
She swallows hard, the blush on her cheeks going even darker. “I do want it. I don’t understand why, but… I do.”
“Then show me.”
I watch her as she lets go of her tits and slides one hand down her chest and stomach. Her body undulates as she moves against her touch, her breathing ragged now.
She touches herself through her pants at first, not removing them yet. She grinds against her own hand, cupping her fingers to give herself the most room to work with. But it’s clear it’s not enough. She makes a face and then undoes the button and zipper, sliding her hand beneath the waistband.
My fingers twitch as she does, wishing it was my own hand right where hers is. Wanting to know how soaked through she is just from this. Judging from the way she moans as she bucks against her hand, she’s already so fucking worked up.
In the book, the hero drags his tongue over the heroine’s pussy, beginning to eat her out. A whimper spills from Willow as she starts touching herself for real, and she bites down on her bottom lip as if she’s trying to keep the sounds muffled.
I cut off mid-sentence, looking at her sharply.
“No. Let me hear you, Solnyshka,” I rasp. “Don’t hold anything back. There’s no one here but you and me, and I wanna hear you fall apart.”
She glances at me, her nipples peaked and stiff as our gazes lock. And the next time she moans, it comes out loud and clear. Like music to my fucking ears.
“Good girl,” I say, smirking hungrily. “That’s what I wanna hear. I’ve always loved it when you get loud for me. When you forget to evenpretendto be a good girl and let yourself get filthy.”
“Fuck,” she gasps. “Malice.”
“I’m right here, Solnyshka.” My gaze roves over her as I speak, soaking in the sight of her like this. Wild and messy and free. “You’re doing so fucking well. Tell me how it feels.”
“Good,” she pants out. Her hips roll up in a sharp arch, and I have to wonder what those fingers of hers are doing to make her feel that good. “It feels good.”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache as my cock twitches in my pants. It wants more than this, but I hold on to the book a little harder, dropping my eyes back down to the pages in front of me. I take a breath and then another one, focusing on the point of all this.
I want Willow to let go. I want her to justfeelwithout the fear or the trauma closing in. I’ve got to keep my mind on that for right now.
“Fuck,” she breathes again, this time on more of a light sob than a moan. Her hand is working so fast in her pants now, and I can see the way her chest heaves as she fights to breathe.
“Slow down,” I urge her.
Her eyes snap to me, and they’re nearly completely dark with lust. It’s hot as fuck to see her like this, especially after watching her walk through life like a zombie in those first days after we got her back from Troy.
“I can’t. I—”
“You can,” I tell her. “Listen to me, Solnyshka. There’s no need to rush. No one’s going to stop you. Just let yourself feel it. Let yourself enjoy it. How wet are you right now?”
She swallows again. “So wet. It’s so… god, I can feel it soaking my fingers.”
“Good. Rub your clit for me, yeah? Slow circles.”
She nods shakily, and I can see the movements of her hand slow as she follows my instructions. It’s fucking torture to just watch this, to direct her from the other side of the couch, but it’s what she needs right now. That’s the most important thing.
I keep reading, slowing my words to match the pace of her fingers as I describe every filthy detail of the hero eating the heroine out in the book. He fucks her with his tongue, making her gush on his face, and she’s still coming when he pulls her legs open even wider and drags her in to meet his deep thrust as he impales her hard enough to make her scream.
Willow’s hips buck forward again when I get to that part, and she moans, a low, filthy sound.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, the pages blurring in front of my eyes as I drag in a ragged breath. “Kogda ty tak stonesh', jeto svodit menja s uma. Ja mogu konchit', prosto slushaja, kak ty izdaesh' jetot zvuk.”
