Page 125 of Storm
I smile at the memory, then wince as another cramp hits, this one sharper than the last. "Frankie," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Please. It helps with the cramps, makes the fire manageable. My pre-heat—I need relief. The symptoms are getting worse."
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed quickly by determination. "Tell me what you need," he says, his voice steady despite the flush spreading across his cheeks. "Teach me."
In answer, I reach for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. Frankie's eyes widen. His breath catches audibly at the sight of me in just a simple cotton bra. His gaze travels over me, awed and heated all at once.
"Your turn," I prompt, my fingers finding the buttons of his shirt.
He helps me, shrugging out of the flour-covered garment to reveal his chest. He's leaner than the alphas, less broadly muscled, but no less beautiful for it. I run my hands over his skin, fascinated by the differences, by the way he shivers slightly at my touch.
Another cramp has me gasping, my scent spiking with a mixture of discomfort and arousal. Frankie's hands settle on my hips, steadying me through it.
"What helps?" he asks, his voice rougher than usual. "What do you need me to do?"
I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall away. "Touch me," I whisper, taking his hands and guiding them to my breasts. "Please."
He moves with gentle confidence, his hands warm as they cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. The contact sends sparks racing through me, temporarily drowning out the discomfort of the cramps. I arch into his touch, encouraging him as he explores.
"Like this?" he asks, watching my reactions carefully.
"Yes," I breathe, my head falling back as pleasure builds. "Just like that."
His touch grows more assured as he learns what I like. When his mouth replaces one hand, his lips closing around my nipple, I cry out, tangling my fingers in his hair to hold him close.
"Frankie," I moan, heat pooling low in my belly. "I need—I need more."
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his own darkened with desire. "Tell me," he urges, his voice husky. "Tell me what you need, Storm."
I reach for the button of my jeans, my movements urgent now as another wave of cramps threatens to overtake the pleasure. "Help me get these off," I manage, already lifting my hips to push the denim down.
Frankie helps, tugging the jeans down my legs. His breath catches when he realizes I'm not wearing anything underneath, his eyes traveling over my newly exposed skin with appreciation.
"You're beautiful," he says. The simple sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion. "So beautiful, Storm."
I reach for him, pulling him close for another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier than before. His hands skim my sides, my thighs, everywhere except where I most want them.
"Touch me," I plead against his lips. "Please, Frankie. I need your hands on me."
He draws back slightly, studying my face. "Show me," he says. "Show me what you like."
I take his hand, guiding it between my thighs where I'm already wet with slick. My body produces so much more now my heat is so close. His fingers explore tentatively at first. When he finds my clit, I gasp. My hips buck involuntarily against his hand.
"There," I breathe, my body tense with building pleasure. "Right there."
Frankie watches my face as he works, his fingers establishing a rhythm that has me panting, clinging to his shoulders for support. The cramps have faded to the background, overtaken by waves of pleasure radiating from his touch.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper. "Am I doing it right?"
"So right," I assure him, my words break on a moan as he slips a finger inside me. "God, Frankie, that feels amazing."
Encouraged by my response, he adds another finger, his thumb continuing to circle my clit. The pleasure is growing stronger, deeper inside me. I'm close, so close, my body trembling on the edge of release.
Then he curls his fingers just right, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars, and I'm falling, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. He works me through it gently, his touch gradually slowing as the aftershocks subside.
When I can focus again, I find him watching me with something like wonder, his brown eyes soft with an emotion that makes my heart skip.
"That was..." he starts, seemingly at a loss for words.
I lean forward, kissing him deeply, pouring my gratitude and affection into the contact. When we part, I'm pleased to see he looks as affected as I feel, his breathing uneven, his pupils dilated with desire.
