Page 131 of Delicate Escape

“Need to see all of you,” he ground out. “Tell me I can.”

“Yes,” I breathed. I wanted him to look. Such a foreign feeling, but one that I felt the sweet relief of.

Shep’s roughened fingertips felt like sandpaper kisses across my skin, lifting my nightgown higher and higher. The cool air swept over my bare flesh, the nightie scrunched up over my breasts. The feel of it had my back arching, searching for more.

“So fucking gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

Shep’s words were another caress. The feel of them landing, digging in, had a different kind of heat spreading.

He moved again, and I heard the soft footfalls in the nothingness of the darkness around me, but I couldn’t tell where he stopped. All I could do was wait.

That waiting turned everything up. That tension inside me pulsed, and my core cried out for him. My lips parted as I sucked in air.

It wasn’t Shep’s fingers that found me this time. It was his mouth. His lips closed around my nipple, sucking it deep. His tongue circled the bud, and it twisted, tightening to the point of pain. His hand found my other breast, his thumb mimicking the movements of his tongue.

Tension swept through me again, weaving my muscles impossibly tighter. My back arched, leaned into all of it, my body wanting more. A cry left my lips, an audible plea.

Shep hummed around my nipple, and then his mouth was gone. The flash of cold after the heat was almost too much to bear.

“Those sounds,” he growled. “Best thing I’ve ever heard. They’re like a drug. Just need more and more.”

I sucked in a breath, my body moving in the direction of Shep’s voice, searching for him even though I couldn’t see him.

Then his hands were on me again, sliding up my thighs. “Thorn, so fucking wet. Glistening for me.”

Shep’s thumb swept through the wetness, spreading it up and over my clit. I couldn’t help the moan that left my lips.

“Yes,” he ground out. “Tell me how it feels. What you want. What you need.”

“Feels like tiny little fireworks exploding across my skin.”

Two fingers slid inside me, and my body bucked against them, pure relief at the feel of some part of Shep entering me.

He slid them in and out in a smooth glide. “This?” he practically purred. “Or this?” His fingers curled as they as slid out, creating a delicious friction. “One?” The smooth glide. “Two?” The friction.

“Two,” I panted.

“That’s my girl. So fucking good at telling me what she wants. What she needs.”

Shep’s thumb made another pass around my clit, getting closer and closer to that bundle of nerves. My hips arched up to meet him, wanting more, wanting everything.

My muscles strained, legs tugging at the scarves, fingers digging into the fabric in a search for purchase.

“Love it when you’re greedy. Love watching you writhe against my fingers. Tell me what you need, Thorn.”

“More. I need more.”

“Bespecific,” he pressed.

That was Shep, always challenging me, helping me come into my own. To be comfortable in that sexual side of myself.

“Want your cock,” I breathed. “Want to feel all of you.”

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers were gone, and I almost cried out at the absence. I heard rustling, movement above me, then Shep lifted my hips, sliding a pillow beneath them.

“This image,” he ground out. “Burned into my mind for eternity.”

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