Page 275 of Releasing 10
“Yes.” Her breath hitched and her hands shot out to fist my hair. “Don’t stop.”
Obliging, I used my lips, fingers, and tongue to make myself acquainted with this once-forbidden part of her anatomy.
“I think it might happen,” she moaned, pushing herself into my face. “I think it might, Hugh.”
“Are you okay with that?”
Nodding eagerly, she clenched her eyes shut and writhed beneath me. “I need more.” And then, grabbing my hand in hers, she pushed it between her thighs. “Morehere.”
Holy fuck, I was learning on the job tonight.
Pulling up on one elbow, I glanced down at her flushed expression, while my fingers traced the lacy fabric between her legs. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to touch you here?”
“If you don’t, I think I’ll scream,” she moaned, rocking her hips against my hand. “Please touch me.”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I slid my hand under the scrap of lace and lightly traced one finger up and down her slit before gently pushing one finger inside her.
“Move inside me,” she instructed, breathing hard and uneven. “Crook your finger…mm, yeah, just like that.”
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, please,” Liz cried out, frantically bucking her hips into my touch. “Keep going, Hugh. Please, please! Make me better.”
Make her better?
It was a strange comment to make in the throes of passion, but I was too drunk and too fucking lost in the moment to care. Overcome by lust, I relished how tight and hot and wet she felt.
“Tell me what to do now,” I whispered, feeling uncertain, because this was her body, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing. “What should I do?”
“More,” she commanded with a shudder. “More.”
“Fingers?”
“Yes.” Flush faced and frantic, she rubbed herself against me while I gently eased another finger inside her.
“Is that okay?” I asked a few seconds later when she started to tighten around my fingers. “Liz, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer me with words, only breathy moans, and she jerked violently and her eyes rolled back.
This continued for several seconds before her entire body went completely lax.
“Whoa,” she breathed as a smile began to spread across her face. “That was amazing.”
Feeling proud of myself, I gently withdrew my fingers and smiled.
“Look at that grin,” she teased, reaching up to squeeze my cheek. “You look like the cat that got the cream.”
“Uh,Liz.”
“Sorry. Bad analogy.”
LIKE A SHARK SMELLING BLOOD
Hugh
DECEMBER 21, 2002
MY GRANDFATHER WAS A LOT OF THINGS, BUT A SQUEALER WASN’T ONE OF THEM. Not only did he manage to sway Old Murphy into keeping his mouth shut about the antics on my birthday, but he took the rap for a large wine stain on Mam’s white carpet in the good room that no amount of scrubbing could remove. And God knows we scrubbed that fucking carpet.
