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She tugged on his toes, pressed her fingers into the balls of his feet, pushed her palms into the muscles of his calves and ran her fingers through the hair on his thighs.
What she was doing wasn’t innately sexual but he was harder than he’d ever been before and ready to blow over her inspection of his body. His spine tingled at her scrutiny, waiting to see if she found him worthy.
His hips pumped, working himself against the rough sheets and he began to see stars, his breaths getting deeper but she gripped his calves, squeezing in warning and he stopped at her denial.
She tickled the backs of his knees, ghosted her fingers up his thighs and the higher she went, the tenser he grew. He was panting like he’d ran a marathon when he hadn’t done anything more than lay here and enjoy her touch and lay in anticipation of what she would do next, his body begging,dyingfor whatever she would give.
She massaged his thighs and pushed them apart before her hands rested on the cheeks of his ass. His breath held, prayingshe would give him what he was too scared to ask for. He’d given her free rein of his body and wanted her to take from him.
She traced a finger down the seam of his cheeks, his eyes squeezing closed and his groan breaking free from his lips. He was entirely at her mercy, her control and it threw him to the point of no return. The kind of intimacy, the kind of sex he’d wanted for so long.
He thrust again, his hips swinging out of urgency for relief, desperate for friction and she squeezed his backside. He grunted in satisfaction, fisting the sheets.
“Patience,” she whispered. Then she ran the tip of her fingers down the split of his cheeks again before slipping between them and pressing against the tight ring of muscles and inside him. She twisted her finger, curling it and he was gone.
He cried out as he came, hard, jetting over her sheets, his entire body shaking endlessly at the intensity as pure pleasure glided through his veins. He struggled to get his breathing under control, his pulse hammering. He rested his damp head against his forearms, stunned as his body gradually relaxed.
She’d shattered him. Her scrutiny and curiosity had teased and taunted him, driven him past his peak and he’d never been more satisfied. Each encounter with her had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he felt safe at her mercy.
Far away he heard the rustle of her dress, felt her slight weight settle over him as she lay on his back and her head rested on his shoulder as she gently stroked his biceps and tears filled his eyes.
Will wasn’t sure where the emotion came from, whether it was happiness or gratitude or affection. They didn’t fall, just rested on his lower eyelids. He felt sleep pulling him under and he slowly drifted off, coming awake sometime later as she whispered:
“I’m ready for you to touch me now.”
Chapter 17
Rebelle held her breath, waiting for his response. Was he asleep? His steady breathing suggested so but there was a change in the pattern when she’d spoken. Was everything okay? Had she gone too far with him?
She had revelled in her exploration of his body. Enjoyed discovering what halted his breath or made his pulse pound and had him rub himself for relief. She had never been allowed free rein like she had tonight. Had never wanted to until she’d met Will. Something had consumed her, a need to brand him with her touch and make him hers.
She had owned his flesh and sensations. She had owned his pleasure and spiked her own in the process. The trust he placed in her was a turn on like no other and she was finally ready to let him touch her, desperate for it even. She was ready to give him a part of herself, a part she hadn’t truly, willingly given anyone before.
He stirred beneath her and she realized she was still splayed out on top of him. She rolled off and he turned to face her, his eyes at half-mast.
“You’re ready?” he rasped.
She nodded and reached for him, pausing before she touched him, unsure. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“I can take it from here, beautiful,” he murmured and moved towards her, pulling himself up so he towered over her.
She didn’t find it intimidating, she found it exciting. He ran his hand through her hair, her curls snaking around his fingers and not letting him go. He cupped her jaw, his big palmencompassing her and she tilted her head, placing a kiss to the heel of his hand.
He pulled himself closer, nuzzling her cheek with his nose and her eyes slipped closed as his stubble scraped her skin. There was a pause that was long enough to have her eyes opening. He was just a breath away, waiting, with a desperation in his eyes as he looked at her mouth.
“Kiss me,” he begged, just how she liked. He was showing her what to do but she was in charge. The butterflies in her stomach flapped wildly at the thought of kissing the mouth that she hadn’t stopped thinking about for weeks. The butterflies tried to escape as she slowly closed the distance and pressed her lips against his.
He grunted at the contact and met her pressure, then increased his, pushing back, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his naked lap. He tilted his head so his wide lips would encompass hers. They were soft, pliant and she could definitely see how his mouth was award-winning. She held herself back, not sure how to feel about the sensations riding her. Heat pulsed at her core, so hot and sharp she could feel it building with intensity.
He pulled away, resting his forehead to hers and cupping her cheeks. “You gonna let me in?”
He could feel her hesitancy and instead of taking what he wanted, like others had, he was asking her. Putting the power back with her.
Empowered, she dove back in, pressing their lips together and this time she ran her tongue across the seam of his plump lips and he opened on a moan as her tongue invaded his mouth, seeking out his. They met and danced together, a rush of pleasure trickled down her spine, goosebumps bursting to life as his flavor exploded in her mouth.
It was a kiss that lit up her world, chasing away every shadow, like the rising sun chasing away the lingering darkness from the night sky. She was bared, vulnerable and there was nowhere to hide, she could only embrace it and give in. His thumbs stroked across the apple of her cheeks, spreading moisture and Rebelle realized she was crying. He pulled back, resting his forehead to hers, his lips swollen from her mouth.
“We’ll stop. If it’s too much, we can stop,” he panted, and his concern and care shattered any lingering doubts that this was the man she wanted.
