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‘None of me wants to go. Except go off, perhaps.’
‘Then stay.’
Her hands rose, but hovered by his shoulders, her fingertips just grazing his taut muscles as if afraid he might indeed go off at the first contact. Then they settled, shaping his shoulders, sweeping down his arms. He held still. At least most of him did. His arousal pulsed and surged against the pressure of her leg, answering her hands as they settled for a moment on the pulse inside his elbow, then traced up the hidden skin under his arm, his ribs, her nails pressing for a moment into the taut rise of his shoulder blade. He could not tell if her exploration was the result of an innocent’s hesitance or a siren’s determination to demolish him. He anchored himself on his elbows, keeping as much space between their chests as possible while her hands roamed, though he longed to sink down on her, feel the hardened tips of her breasts graze his chest as he pulled her against him.
Her hands sloped down his back, drifting like a breeze, but when they reached the rise of his buttocks they fluttered and stilled. Then fell away. If he hadn’t felt the quivering in every inch of her body, the shallow raspiness of her breath, he would have wondered if she lost interest. He looked up from the pulse fluttering at the side of her neck to her eyes, wide and confused.
‘Did I do it wrong?’ she whispered.
For a moment he just stared, too much of his intellect hovering at waist level.
‘Wrong?’
‘You aren’t...you aren’t going in.’
‘Going... Sweetheart, I can’t enter you. It wouldn’t be safe. The only means I have to protect you are in my room and I can’t even think of moving away from you right now, not even for that.’
Her eyes gleamed as they widened, her lips rounding into an O of realisation.
‘But you still want me to touch you?’
‘More than I want to breathe at the moment. There are ways to give and receive pleasure without penetration, but we don’t have to do anything. Rest now.’
He kissed her, a short, quick brush on her lips, intending to move away, but her mouth opened under his, her hands sliding into his hair, her words coming in breathless bursts.
‘You touched me. It was... You want me to touch you like that? There?’
He still hesitated. He was too close to the edge for the patient tutoring she deserved. But her words rushed on.
‘I want to know... Benneit. Show me how to touch you...’
He sank back, defeated, too ravenous to be sensible. He took her hand, sliding it down his chest, his back arching as her cool fingers closed on his blazing erection. Her hand leapt under his, then tightened, and he sank his face into the curve of her neck, dragging air into his lungs.
It was torture. He had never been so aroused and so unwilling to end it. Her hands were exquisite, like a silk scarf drawn over his skin, and he suffered the soft sweeps of her fingers and palm as she explored, growing bolder as he guided her. It wasn’t only her hands—she was so engrossed in following his guidance she seemed unconscious of her own body, and it was doing as it willed—her legs kept rubbing against his, her toes flexing against his calves as she tried to draw him even closer. He didn’t want it to end, ever. He wanted to remain at this peak of agonised pleasure for ever.
She raised herself on her elbow so her lips could brush over his jaw, over the corded tension of his neck and shoulder, kissing and tasting him as she went, and when he succumbed to the need to close his hand over her breast she gave a little mewl and her teeth nipped his shoulder, making him gasp as he fought to stave off his climax.
‘Did I hurt you?’ she murmured, licking the spot like a cat at a spill of milk.
‘No. But you’re killing me. Don’t stop.’
She blew on the damp spot and shifted her lips to his chest, her hand still gliding over his erection. ‘There are so many textures...’ she murmured, her palm curving over the base of his arousal and skimming upwards again. ‘I never realised. It feels like velvet here, but so hard beneath. And hot...’
He choked, caught between a laugh and a groan, closing his hand on hers. She raised herself, suckling his neck with sudden and total abandon, her hand following and then leading the rhythm of his body until he could no longer fight the racking shudders of pleasure. In his mind he was inside her, becoming part of her, branding both of them with his need. And then it all fell away and he was melting, they were both melting into the sea, a liquid warmth with no boundaries between them. At the edge of his reason like a storm on the horizon was just that flash of lightning and fear—that he would never find those boundaries again.
