Page 58 of Lamb

ASH

Iwas scorching, burning from the inside out.

Pain still tingled across my scalp, travelling down my spine until it simmered in my core. I fought the urge to rub against the rough denim pressing up against my clit, the temptation like a tidal wave threatening to drown me.

I had never been in touch with my sexual side. Not really. I had been neglected for most of my formative years, and it gave me a strange impression of the outside world and how people interacted. I was not naïve. I had seen darker things than others could even imagine. Dark alleys and seedy hiding places often showed off more than you wanted to see. I had never experienced it myself, nor had I ever had the inclination to.

So, why was this man so different?

Why could this man have me sitting on his lap, his fingers in my hair, wanting to moan his name and questioning everything I had ever believed about my own body? It was a traitor and weak, melting at his commands and his dominance. It was chasing simple pleasures and damning the consequences. It—

Lamb shifted, his bulge surging up against my clit, and I groaned. The noise burned its way up my throat, a shiver of pleasure electric over my skin.

“Fuck,” I hissed, dropping my head onto a firm, damp shoulder.

“Ash,” Lamb purred, the vibrations travelling up his shoulder, through my skin, and into my mouth. “Look at me.”

I did not want to. If I looked into those eyes, I knew I would be adding fuel to the fire already burning. He had tempted me much too far already and—

Lamb’s fingers sought my chin, and before I could resist, he had me leaning back, head tipping up and staring into his eyes. His heated brown irises were molten, consuming every inch of attention I had to offer and holding it hostage.

“From this moment on, you can’t look away.” Lamb’s thumb drifted over my soft, wet lips. “I want to see every expression you make. I want to watch you fall apart.”

Oh God.

Just his words alone had my legs trembling against his thighs, and if his fleeting smirk meant anything, he knew it, as well.

“Keep looking at me. Understand?” Lamb punctuated his words with his palms against my ass. His hands were wide and long, and his fingers grazed my centre. I jerked against his hold, but it only made me rub harder against his bulge. I fought not to gasp, my hands jumping to his shoulders, raising the teasing jolt of pleasure.

Lamb’s grasping hold tugged me forward again, rubbing my centre over her jeans. “I need words, Ash,” he growled, his hips pushing up to grind against the movement.

“Yes, I get it. I understand.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, my hips fighting against his hold, seeking more of that sweet friction.

Lamb was cruel. His arms held taut, stopping me dead on his lap, and I swear I saw a smirk creep on his lips as the frustrated growl crawled out of my mouth.

“For both our sakes, I think it’s for the best if I’m in control,” Lamb said.

“Anything else, your highness?” I challenged, pushing once again to climb that mound on his lap and failing when his hands around my ass did not falter. “Perhaps, you should let me—”

Lamb’s tongue filled my mouth, his lips pressed punishingly against mine. My words were swallowed as he tugged and toyed with my muscles, working every ounce of fight I had out of my mouth and into his.

His finger slipped closer, and his touch teased my centre. I was unable to move or do anything about it as it slid around my opening, coating itself in my eager wetness. His free hand around my ass slid up my spine, pressing firm against the small of my back, my hips wedged up between his abs and his dangerous, advancing fingers.

He held my tongue hostage with his kiss, demanding and domineering my head, while his finger rocked dangerously close back and forth over my entrance as my hips flexed beneath his hold. My hands slid from his neck, fingers running through his scalp, tightening on his short hair as frustration built inside.

Lamb was barely touching me, but his tempting was lighting a burning torch in my centre with pure simple need. I squeezed my fingers, earning a dark, rumbling growl from deep within his chest. My nipples scraped against his chest, rock-hard and tingling at the sensation of the noise.

I wanted his finger inside of me, impatient to know how it would feel to have him inside and whether it would bring pain or pleasure.

I had toyed with myself a few times out of curiosity, but I had never felt satisfaction. I had believed for a long time that I was incapable of such things, or maybe I never learnt how to desire it. Either way, I had not been relieved or disappointed. It was just one of many things that were not meant to be for me.

Lamb’s finger scraped against my entrance, just the tip of his wide, thick finger slipping into my centre. It felt strange and foreign, but I did not dislike it. In fact, the frustrated, impatient part of me felt relief at the simple progress, a delighted sigh slipping between our moving lips.

Lamb pulled out, rubbing over my entrance in slow, languid circles before dipping in once again. Over and over, he repeated the process, each time his finger ebbed a little deeper. My hips found his rhythm, and each time he pushed in, my hips shifted back into his touch, captivated by the feeling of him rubbing against my internal walls.

“Lamb,” I breathed, pulling free from his grasp. My lips were throbbing and swollen, but Lamb’s dark eyes followed the traces of my tongue rubbing over them as if he could snatch them back up. “I understand going slow,” I breathed, punctuating my words with Lamb’s finger sliding inside, his rhythm uninterrupted, “but this is a little—”

Cutting off my words, he ejected his finger from my channel. I whimpered, immediately mourning the loss of his finger and the sensation of pleasure. I was pleading and desperate. It was foreign, even from my lips.

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