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I should say something to break the moment, but need is still humming through my body. My lips part, and all that comes out is a whimper that sounds like a plea.
“Fuck,” Stavros mutters, so raw a heady shiver ripples through me.
He shifts toward me again, setting his hand on my hip like a question.
This is absurd. I shouldn’t want this.
But the only thing I’m certain of in my sleepy haze is how much I do.
My head tips back encouragingly as if of its own accord. My hips give a slight rock, guiding his hand forward.
Another guttural curse spills from Stavros’s mouth, his breath hot on my hair. Then his fingers slide back to the place where I craved them most.
I bite my lip but can’t quite restrain a moan. Stavros echoes the sound with a ragged breath and ducks his head to brand his mouth against the crook of my neck.
He strokes his hand between my legs, setting off pulse after pulse of pleasure. I open my thighs a little wider to give him more access, and he makes a strangled sound.
“That’s right. Want to make you come apart for me. Gods, I want to feel all of you.”
He releases me to a whine of protest that I haven’t finished before he’s delving his hand right beneath my drawers. The caress of his fingers against my most sensitive skin brings another gasp to my lips.
Stavros molds his body against me as he has his way with my sex. His forefinger circles my clit in a spiral of blissful sparks and dips lower to explore my soaked opening. When he curls it right inside me, I shudder with a swell of delight.
Even through the daze of mingled fatigue and pleasure, I notice the bulge nudging against my lower ass. If the strain in his voice and the eagerness of his touch weren’t enough to convince me, that’d be plenty of proof of how affected my unintended lover is.
I can’t let him keep all the control here, can I? I’m not going to be selfish.
As my hips sway with the rhythm of his hand, I reach behind me. At the graze of my fingers, Stavros growls.
The rocking of his hand speeds up. A second strong finger dips between my folds, parting them, stretching me in just the right way.
As the heel of his hand starts to rub against my clit to giddying effect, I drag my fingers up and down his rigid cock through his drawers. Gods smite me, there’s a lot of him.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if that part of him is as massive as the rest.
Stavros buries his face in my hair, his urgent breaths tickling over my scalp. I’m too lost in the pleasure to figure out where the waistband of his drawers are, but I curl my fingers around his length as well as I can amid the fabric to pump him properly.
With a groan, he bucks into my grasp in time with his pulsing hand. The wave of pleasure is building inside me, already fogging my vision.
Even as I press into his touch, desperate for the release I can taste, I’m determined to bring him with me. I grip him tighter, work my hand faster, reveling in the broken panting that shows he’s as lost in the moment as I am.
Stavros plunges his fingers even deeper into me with a graze of my clit, and a dam inside seems to burst.
I come with a rough cry and a clench of my sex around him, the final surge of ecstasy searing through my body. But even as my muscles shake with my release, I manage to pump him harder in turn.
Stavros groans again, how much because of my climax and how much my touch, I don’t know. Either way, his hips jerk behind me.
In an instant, his drawers are as damp as mine, the hot spurt of his release soaking through to my wrist.
He withdraws his hand slowly to rest it on my belly, and mine drifts back to my thigh. As our breaths even out and the final shivers of bliss dissipate, a sheen of ice creeps through my chest.
How much did he really want this intimacy withme, rather than whatever woman his bleary mind imagined in his sleep?
Will he think I prompted the interlude somehow? Lured him in with my riven wiles?
What if this is the moment that tips him back over the edge to reviling me?
I hate the ache that lances through me at the thought.
