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When he presses my nipples between his fingers, a rush of something escapes between my legs, and I choke out a moan. There’s no holding back the sounds now. And I don’t care. My eyes fall closed, and my head rolls back.
“No. Look at me,” he barks, and my eyes fly open. My lids are heavy, and it’s hell trying to lift them. But through the slits of my eyes, I do as he says. He swears before grabbing my knees and pulling me forward. I almost fall backward against the tub, but I catch myself. With a rounded mouth, I question him with my eyes. He taps my knees.
“Part your legs,” he says.
I gulp. My legs shake, and I keep them closed. He leans forward. So close, I think he’s about to kiss me, but that’s too much to hope for. He breathes an order against my lips, “Part them.”
Trembling and hanging onto the sides of the tub, I slowly ease them open, all the time thinking I swallowed my heart, and I’m about to pass it out my ass. His hands run up and down the inside of my legs. The motion relaxes me, and I sigh until his fingers brush up against my second set of lips. I clamp my legs closed, tight around his hand and for the first time all day, he chuckles. At me. It’s brief. His hardness returns in seconds, but his tone is softer.
“Relax,” he says, tapping my legs again with his other hand. Inhaling, I split my legs once more. “Good,” he murmurs before running a single finger up and down my slit. I’ve never been touched here before by anyone but myself. My head whirls but instead of backing away, I keep perfectly still, wanting him to continue.
And he does. He inhales sharply, letting out a slow breath as his thumb meets my nub of flesh. Oh! It’s so much better when someone else touches it. The surprise contact causes explosions throughout my entire body, and I surrender, giving up the control of directing my own pleasure as he takes me on a ride I’ve never experienced. His fingers hold magic and as he strokes me, he holds my gaze. His lips part a little, and soft breaths escape me. Louder ones join in, and my bottom can’t remain planted firmly anymore. Leaning into his strokes, I rotate my hips.
“Oh, sweet cunt. Am I the first one to touch you here?” he asks.
I nod.
“Not even those bastards from earlier?” he says.
I shake my head.
“Are you lying to me?” he grunts, and I throw my head back as a tremulous moan pours out of me. “Look at me,” he commands.
My voice grows higher in pitch as I try to speak, to tell him I can’t look at him right now. He grips my hair, pulling on it and forcing my head up as he continues circular strokes between my second lips. “Look at me!”
My head fights his grip, my eyes barely open, and my mouth rounds. “Oh, Adam.” His name slips from my lips, and we’re both startled. He freezes. I freeze. We look at each other. I don’t want to beg, but I can’t help it. “I’m sorry. Mr. Molotov. Please, don’t stop.”
He swears before resuming as if I said nothing. I burst like petals exploding off a flower. With tender hands, I grip the sides of the tub, screaming my pleasure.
“Tell me no one’s ever made you feel that,” he says and when I look at him, his face is red. His eyes are pleading. There’s tension in his brows, as if he’s in pain, yet it’s wildly sexy.
“You’re the first,” I whisper.
He stands, and water splashes all around him. His member? So hard. It’s pointing at the ceiling. So thick. I can still taste the metallic saltiness of him. He steps out of the bath and extends his hand. But when I take it, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed, throwing me onto it.
There’s a knock on the door, and he groans. “That’ll be dinner. I thought it best to have it in the room tonight,” he says, walking naked to the door. “We should eat. We used a lot of energy today.”
I nod while hurriedly reaching for the white nightdress next to me on the bed and pulling it over my head as quickly as possible. Just in time too, for the door to be opened as one of the male servants pushes the tray into the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adam
She’sasleep.She’stired,but I’m also hard as a rock, and I don’t want to finish myself off. She snores softly through parted lips. After we ate, I questioned her some more about her father and told her in detail what her father did; she stopped talking halfway through and was already nodding off. Being ignored would anger me usually, but I was bewitched by the sight of her lashes fluttering closed. By the time I let the male servant in to remove the trays, she’d been all the way knocked out.
I’ve been pacing in front of the bed, wondering what to do with this brick between my legs. It throbs, and I’m desperate for her. But desperation means loss of control. Earlier, I was in control, bringing her to climax. Once she came though, it was all over for me. She’d never submitted to me so easily. It set off a ripple effect in my body. My nerves danced from my head to my toes. Still, I managed to hold myself back, cover it with a sheet, eat and engage in conversation. But that did nothing to kill my erection.
All I can think about, now, is the last time I kissed her lips, how I held back from kissing them again, and how much I want to kiss them now. I want to kiss her lips and feel inside her. I need to or else my body will burst into flames. Maybe it has something to do with almost losing her tonight, and the reminder that tomorrow isn’t promised. But for a single moment, I forget about my need to maintain perfect control, and I climb on the bed. Kneeling, I reach for her hands and pull her up by the wrists.
Her eyes spring open, and they flash about the room. “Wha—” She’s about to ask, but my lips are upon hers, and I moan like a man starved, finally being fed for the first time in months. I fling my arms around her waist, pulling her closer than possible to my body, needing the garment between us to be removed as she presses against my aching manhood.
Sucking on those soft, pillowy lips, I groan when her arms come around my neck. She hooks onto me, and I bite her lip with the shock slamming into my body. Hell and damnation, she’s delicious. I imagine it must be ecstasy feeling her lips move against mine as I plunge in and out of her. I can’t wait. Wrapping her legs around my waist, I lower her to the bed and push. But she pulls away, backing up toward the head of the bed and wrapping her arms around her knees. I shake from the loss before reaching for her ankle.
“No,” she says.
My brows drop. “No?” I ask, falling to my elbows.
“Thanks so much for saving my life, but I’m not ready to give myself to you,” she says.
