“Do you want my tongue or my fingers…” he questions, his voice taking on this deep honeyed sound. Caught up in the sound, it takes me a moment before I can gather my thoughts and answer him.
“Fingers…” I whisper. “I want to be able to see your face, in case…”
He just nods, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I want to take your shirt off. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice coming out stronger than I expected. He grabs hold of the fabric and starts pulling it up very slowly, never breaking eye contact, as if he is making sure I don’t freak out or change my mind along the way. He’s handling me like I’m made of glass, like I’m fragile and while I am fragile, I’m also already broken. There’s nothing he could do that could make things worse.
The shirt comes off over my head, leaving me in nothing but my panties. Without looking Clark throws it over his shoulder, the cotton shirt landing in a heap on the floor somewhere next to the bed. Without a single sliver of urgency at all he leans in, his lips finding mine, as soon as our lips touch a spark ignites in my belly and I find myself reaching for him, my hands flying up to grab onto his shoulders.
His muscles ripple beneath my hands, and before I realize it, he’s moving us backward, gently placing me against the pillows. He starts to pull away and a tiny whimper subconsciously slips past my lips. I sink my nails into his flesh, willing him to stay, and a hiss of pain or maybe pleasure meets my ears.
Our eyes clash, his pupils are dilated, his nostrils flared. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me, ravage me, but there is more… something else hiding in the depth of his eyes, past the lust and the need.
Bringing both hands to my stomach, he runs his fingers over the flesh with a feather-light touch, then he lets them trail down to the waistband of my panties, resting there for a long moment. He’s giving me a chance to stop him, a moment to tell him no. When I don’t say anything, he continues dipping his fingers inside the band, he starts to pull them down and I lift my hips to help him get them off.
Everything feels electrified as he pulls the small piece of fabric down my legs, letting his knuckles glide along the flesh as he goes. When the panties are off, he flings them over his shoulder like he did with my shirt. I’m bare now, completely exposed to him, and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never in a million years thought that I would be okay being so exposed, so vulnerable in front of a man.
There’s a stampede of horses in my ears that I know is my heartbeat. My nipples are hard peaks and I need him to touch me, need him to soothe the ache between my thighs.
With a softness that doesn’t match his demeanor, he says, “Spread your legs for me.” Without thought I do as he asks, my legs fall open without fear, and I know what I’m doing. I’m giving myself to him, trusting him completely.
“Remember, all you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. I swear, Emerson,” he assures me, but I don’t need his assurance. I just need him.
Leaning forward, he holds onto my hip with one hand and sucks one of my hard nipples into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation that swirls deep in my belly as his tongue flicks against the hardened nub. I can’t stop my hands from moving, it’s like they have a mind of their own as they run through the short strands of hair, my nails sinking into his scalp.
I can feel his hard as steel cock resting against my leg and without thinking I move so my thigh is rubbing against it. He groans against my breast, his hand on my hip tightening as he pulls away slightly. My eyes move over his face, his nostrils are flared, his cheeks are flushed, and he looks sexy, good enough to eat.
“This is not for me… this is all for you.” He leans in, kissing me with a fervor that is contagious. I’m not sure what overcomes me, but I turn into a frenzied animal my teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Both hands move to my hips as if he’s holding me in place, his grip is bruising, but I’m not scared. If anything I’m thrilled. He moans against my skin, the sound only egging me on. My arms snake around his neck, holding onto him, pulling him even closer, as I deepen the kiss.
Heat spreads through my lower half, pooling inside of me, and dribbling out against my thighs. I’m ready for him, beyond ready. I never felt this way before, but I know what it means.
Mumbling against his lips, I tell him, “Touch me.”
He pulls away a millimeter, both our chests are heaving now, sweat beads against his brow and I can tell this is weighing on him, tension coils inside of him, right beneath the surface.
“Are you sure?” I smile, because there is nothing else I could right in this moment that would make this any more perfect than it already is.
“I want you, Clark…” The ache between my legs mount, I grab onto one of his wrists, prying it from my hip, and bringing it to the apex of my thighs. “I want you to touch me here…” My eyes collide with his, and I gasp when I feel one thick digit slip between my folds, grazing my clit. His touch is gentle, soft, but also passionate and urgent at the same time. He moves his finger through my wetness with ease, groaning when he realizes how ready I am for him.
His finger teases my entrance and his thumb finds my clit, the rough pad drawing small circles across the tight bundle of nerves. Holy shit. There’s something magical happening deep in my belly, something awakening inside of me. I grab two fist fulls of sheets on either side of me, feeling compelled to hold on to something or risk floating away.
“Fuck, Em,” Clark hisses, and a moment later he’s entering me, slowly, so slowly it’s almost painful.
“Oh God…” I cry out, unable to keep the words inside. Clark resists the urge to move inside of me letting me adjust to his finger, but I don’t want to adjust I want to feel the pleasure that I know he’s going to deliver. “Please Clark, please…” I plead, staring up at him.
His face is a mask of agony, pure need, and it’s remarkable how he can hold himself back, proving yet again how perfect he is to do this.
“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he growls, and I feel that growl deep in my womb. The muscles clenching around his digit at the sound. Knowing exactly what I need he starts to move, fingering me with a gentle thrust, his biceps trembles with the effort it takes for him to hold back and I swallow thickly as he strokes the fire in my belly with each thrust. It feels as if I’m awakening, deep under the water, racing toward the surface.
Closer and closer I get to the surface, my legs shake, and I bite into my bottom lip a scream building deep in my throat.
“Come for me, Em, let me see what you look like when you fall apart,” Clark whispers against my heated flesh.
“Clark…” The word passes my lips on a scream.
With his finger pumping in and out of me and his thumb on my clit, I go soaring through the water, crashing through the surface. Air fills my lungs and it feels like I’m breathing for the first time, like I’ve been drowning this whole time, and I guess I have.
Until he found me.
Gasping, my eyes fall closed and my channel clenches the muscles contracting as waves of pleasure ripple through the sensitive tissue. Clark’s movements slow, as he milks out my orgasm. When every tremor of pleasure has made its way through me, I force my eyes open and find Clark staring down at me. His gaze is heated, hotter than the sun, with need painted like a red warning label on his face, one that would’ve sent me into a frenzy of fear before I met him.