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He ghosts his fingers over my still-sensitive heat, drawing out a whimper that has his eyes crinkling with lust yet still hooded with warning. “Don’t test me. Someone touches you, they don’t disappear or lose a finger; they lose their life.”
That should be a red flag, an admission that sends me running, but instead, it makes me feel safe and cherished, especially after that guy roofied me. But Wells has had his share of disappearances and nights out since I’ve been with him, so I can’t help but push back.
I tilt my head, fingers clasped behind his neck, toying with his hair. “And what about you? Do I get to kill any woman who touches you?”
A grin climbs to his ears as he keeps circling my clit, just enough to leave me hungry. “I would expect nothing less, but that will never happen. There’s only you, Little Storm. Always.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t expect this dreamy thirty-one-year-old man to be inexperienced. I’m not naive. But I do expect to be told the truth.
I grip his wrist, ceasing any movement. “Seriously? I’m giving you my purity. All I’m asking in return is your honesty. I deserve that.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Ivanna. You have my honesty. Ask me.”
“Okay.” I huff, hating that I brought the conversation here when we’re finally moving forward, but also knowing it’s necessary. “Youwere out all night on more than one occasion, Wells. When was the last time you slept with someone?”
“Those nights away from you were for work,” he says, and his emeralds shout transparency. “It’s been years.”
“Years?” I gasp. “Why?”
“Two since I’ve even touched someone, and that didn’t go anywhere. And no other woman has ever been in our home, other than housekeeping.” His gaze dances all over my face. “I was waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
He sighs, both palms rising to cradle my cheeks. “You, Little Storm. I was waiting for you.”
Good God, what is this man doing to me?
The hoarse tenor delivering that admission tells me he believes it. And in the depths of my heart, I understand—or want to. I’ve been asked out plenty of times, but no one ever felt right. I was waiting for a sense of belonging, a connection, a thrill. The wind who was willing to guide my sails.
Waiting for Wells.
When his lips connect with mine again, I come undone, tasting myself on his tongue and eager to have all of him, to let him claim me like he wants. He throws me onto my back, and my legs curl around his waist as he sucks on my nipple, holding both of my wrists in his hand. The lack of control unhinges me further, and I try to shove his sweatpants down his legs with my heels. Desperate to feel him.
“Wait,” he orders. “I’ll set the pace.”
“I’m on birth control.” So, out flies one of the many thoughts in my head.
He chuckles, biting my nipple and shooting a delightful zing of pain through it. “Good.For now.I won’t ever be fucking my wife with a condom.”
My wife.I can’t get enough of that.
His lips coast up over my collarbone and shoulder to my neck, chilled bumps erupting over the whole of me. I arch, offering himmore as his fingers tickle over my ribs and stomach and hips until they’re thrusting inside me.
His teeth snag my earlobe. “You’re drenched again, Ives.” He pulls back, releasing my wrists. “Keep them there.”
That demand, my eagerness to do whatever he tells me, and the confidence that he seems to have this all under control paints this encounter in a liberating vibrancy rather than an intimidating charcoal. Bright and vivid hues portraying my first time.
When his joggers and boxers drop to the ground, my eyes widen at the satin-skinned cock saluting me. I don’t have much experience with dicks, but Wells seems large, in girth and length. Not so big that it’s terrifying though. I once read a dark romance where the heroine claimed the love interest had a horse dick—not to be confused withhung like a horse. She meant the size compared. Literally. More power to the girls who are turned on by such a monstrosity, but anything that could belong on a half-ton animal does not belong inside me.
His lips twitch with a mirthful smirk, as though he were privy to my inner monologue regarding zoo-animal comparatives to his lower half. “It’ll fit,” he promises as he crawls over my outstretched body, and at my incoherent murmuring, he adds, “We’ll fit together perfectly.”
God, I love the sound of that.
Spreading my legs wide with his knees, he teases my opening with the tip of his cock. “Eyes on me the whole time. Understood?”
“Yes.” I swallow.
“It’s going to hurt, but I’ll make it feel good too.” He hovers above me, hands pinning mine to the bed, and kisses my nose while he glides slowly inside me.
