Page 67 of Elanie & the Empath
I stared back down at his penis, sliding my fingers up to his tip again. “I want to give you an orgasm. I want you to feel as good as I feel. But I don’t know how. Can you show me?”
He answered by taking my hand in his. I loved the way his skin looked against mine, the contrast, the shock of color, like the horizon where the snow met the sky. But when he told me to spit into my palm, I balked. “Huh?”
“Wet is better,” he reminded me. “You’ll slide.”
Believing him, trusting him, the man who’d already risked his life for me more than once, I brought my hand to my mouth and spit.
I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, and he showed me the pressure he liked, how to grip and glide, moving from the base up to the tip. “Just like that,” he said, letting me take over. “It feels so good.”
“Should I go faster?”
“Not yet,” he said, a little breathless. “Tonight, it will be very easy for you to make me come.”
Finding a steady rhythm, I watched the tiny drop of liquid gathering at his tip swell and glisten.
“Elanie, it’s different when males have an orgasm. I need to prepare you.”
“Does it feel good to have this part of your body touched too?” I slid the fingers of my other hand over the tight, round sacks below his penis. “These are your testicles, right?”
“Yes. Saints,yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking. “It feels very good to have those touched. But you should slow down. When a male has an orgasm?—”
“Yes?” I said, tightening my grip as he thrust up into my hand, hard and hot and so strangely beautiful.
“Stuff comes out.”
I loosened my grip, slowed my pace. “Stuff?”
“Semen.”
“Cement? Cement comes out of your penis? What in the worlds?”
He barked a laugh, grasping my hand and tightening it around him again. “Not cement. Semen, seminal fluid. Baby-making stuff. Just…” He groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow, his teeth clenching, those delicious little muscles flickering in his jaw while I squeezed him again. “You’ll see.”
I settled in, holding him tight, pumping slowly, then a little faster. Waiting expectantly for thissemento make an appearance.
His abs tensed, his chest heaving as his hand came down to make a shield over the head of his penis. “You’re too good,” he said, his voice gruff and strained and indescribably sexy. “It feels too good. I’m gonna come.”
I rose to my knees, pumping even faster, carefully approaching bionic speed as his groans became moans, as he writhed and his muscles flexed. And then it happened.He jerked. His back bowed off the bed. His entire body strained as a stream of bright blue liquid erupted out of him. It hit his hand and dripped down onto his stomach, settling into the ridges between his abs as it kept coming, pulsing in time with each thrust of his hips.
Eventually, it stopped, his breathing evening out, his hips stilling. When he raised his head, his expression was dazed and sated and so handsome I could barely look at him without my heart feeling like it might burst or melt and I wouldn’t survive either.
Focusing on his stomach instead, I said, “So this is semen.” I ran a finger through the liquid and brought it to my nose, sniffing. Then I brought it to my lips. “Hmm,” I murmured, sucking my finger into my mouth, taking a taste.
Sem’s head hit the pillow again, a whimper rising from his throat.
“Yoursemen,” I said, drawing my finger through the fluid on his belly again, “is fairly nutritional. Vitamin C, calcium, potassium, fat, lots of protein.”
“Saints have mercy on my soul,” he wheezed, smiling up at the ceiling. “This cannot be happening.”
“You could have sustained me in that cave for weeks with this semen of yours.”
He burst into laughter, wiping his eyes as his life-sustaining semen ran over his sides and onto the bed.
“Stop it,” I scolded. “You’re making a mess.”
Sitting up, he reached for me and pulled me down for a very deep and very slippery kiss. “You can’t learn about sex without making a mess. Or”—he flipped me over, making me squeal—“without having to sleep in the wet spot at least once.”
24.SEM
