Page 69 of Crushed By Love

But then he stops, hand frozen mid stroke, his index finger now pressing against my inner wall in a way that almost hurts. Almost. But it also feels incredible and I clench around his fingers, my eyes beginning to water.

“Don’t stop.” I angle my face up to kiss him, dying to know what his mouth tastes like, but he shifts away from me before I can make contact. I would feel rejected, but I can’t feel much of anything right now besides desperate mounting pleasure.

“I want you to beg,” he demands, almost cruelly. “Beg me to make you come, little Juliet.”

“Please, Ethan. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m begging you. Please.”

I close my legs around his hand and lean into him, my thoughts dimming at the added tightness it creates. My hands are everywhere. They’re on his body. They’re on my body. They’re pressing against his hand, trying to urge him to finish me. And then they’re under his shirt, splayed against his hot skin, sliding under his shorts between us.

I can’t see his cock under the blanket but I can feel it, so large and hard, so velvety and ready. I want this. I want more than his fingers inside me. Feeling brave, I grab hold of him and pump. He’s been quiet this entire time but not anymore. His groan is raspy. Needy.

It’s like pressing an on button because he begins his expert movements again, his palm rubbing against my clit and his two fingers teasing inside me in slow strokes. “I love your innocence, baby.”

“I don’t want to be innocent anymore,” I confess.

His eyes spark. “Of course not. You want to be bad, don’t you?”

Oh fuck. Yes. I definitely like this dirty talk. “Yes please.”

And then he’s kissing my shoulder, lips brushing sinfully over my neck, tongue hot across the curves of the cleavage peeking over my shirt. He leaves shivering trails of pleasure with those kisses, trails that I want to take into oblivion.

“Don’t stop,” I say. And then I say other things but I can’t even follow my own train of thought, let alone what’s coming out of my mouth. I’m too wrapped up in the sensation of Ethan.

The pain in my foot is an afterthought compared to everything else I’m feeling. All that matters is him and me and the need that’s building between us as we touch each other. I still want to kiss him but we don’t even need to. This isn’t a love act, there’s not even kissing on the lips. It’s a sex act, purely carnal, what some would call a sin, but if this is a sin then I’m running straight into hell with Ethan as my guide. Nothing will stop me from this. I don’t care. It’s all I want. It’s everything I need.

I continue to slide my palm up and down on his cock, loving the way it jolts under my touch. He’s even larger now than he was when I first started this and I can’t imagine what it will feel like to have him inside me, how it will all fit, but I’m desperate to try.

“You’re good at that,” he hisses, encouraging me.

Is he being honest or is he trying to make me feel better about my inexperience? I want to prove myself to him. Trembling, I slip my other hand down to cup his sack, wondering if he’ll like that too. He throws his head back and I smile. This is fun. He’s got me surrendering to him but I’ve got him doing the same thing. Maybe I am good at this.

He changes his movements, working my pussy harder, and swings his other hand up to my breast, fingers prodding under the bra. He rolls my nipple under this thumb and suddenly my oncoming orgasm builds in a new way, a bigger way. It’s so much—too much. I start to pull away.

“Fuck no,” he growls. “I want you to know what I can do to you.”

“I can’t?—”

“You can. Let yourself.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Yes you fucking do.” He kisses my jaw and rasps into my ear. “But I’ll help you get there. Promise. What have I been trying to tell you, baby? You’re mine.”

Twenty-Eight

Those possessive words coupled with his depraved movements send me over the edge. The orgasm rips through me and I scream his name. Seconds later he’s coming in my hand and arching into me too, his face softening into a peaceful expression that I’ve never seen him wear. The pleasure ebbing through me is out of this world. I’ve never felt anything like this before. The orgasm takes a full minute to release and let me drift back down to earth.

“So that was an orgasm?” I breath out the words roughly, almost laughing. “I thought I’d given myself orgasms, but nothing has ever come close to that.” Then I do laugh. “Pun intended.”

He chuckles and rolls away, slipping his pants back up before I can get an eyeful. He pads to the bathroom and turns on the faucet for a second, so I assume he’s cleaning himself up. Then he’s back with a warm towel. He hands it to me and all of a sudden, I’m burning up with shyness. This is new for me. Maybe it’s normal for the guy to bring something for the girl to clean herself up with, and it certainly is thoughtful, but I wasn’t expecting it. We didn’t even have sex and already I feel so shy about this, the boldness I had minutes earlier long forgotten. What’s it going to be like if we do the real deal?

Please, let us do the real deal.

Now that I’ve gotten a taste of Ethan, I think I’ll die if I don’t get more.

A yawn escapes me and I fight it off. I need sleep but I don’t want it.

I expect Ethan to get back in bed with me but he leaves the bedroom instead and doesn’t come back until hours later, until long after I’ve cleaned him from my hands, myself from my thighs, until I’ve thought a zillion spiraling thoughts and eventually fallen asleep . . . still in his bed.

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