Page 30 of Impassioned
She felt his hand between her legs again, sweeping against her thigh before finding her sheath. This was familiar, the gentle seeking of his fingertips. But since the last time he’d done this, she’d put her own fingers there.
Rotating her hips, she tried to capture the sensations she’d aroused in herself as he moved upon her. He used his thumb to tease her, and she gasped yet again. However, he didn’t stop. She felt him unfasten his pantaloons and for the first time, she anticipated him—how he would feel as he filled her.
His finger slid inside her, then stroked back up to massage her clitoris. That was the spot she really loved. She could find release when she only touched that part of herself, but when she put her fingers inside, everything intensified.
Suddenly he was there—his sex nudging hers. This was the moment she always tensed, her body tightening as she braced for his invasion. Tonight, she willed herself to stay loose—as much as she could—and welcome him.
When he was fully inside, he didn’t withdraw his hand. This was new. He kept it between them and went back to stroking her clitoris.
“Oh!” She failed again at keeping herself from making a sound and once more clamped her jaw shut. For good measure, she brought her hand up and put the back against her lips.
His hips moved in tandem with his hand, thrusting into her as he coaxed pleasure from her restless body. For the first time, she knew what was within reach, felt more than a vague desire.
He braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned down. “Lift your legs, put them around me,” he whispered.
Yes, of course. The image from the book flashed behind her closed eyes. In it, the woman’s legs were wrapped around the man’s hips, her feet digging into his backside. Tentatively, she curled her legs around him. This opened her in a new way, allowing him to drive deeper. She pressed her hand into her mouth, her teeth grazing her flesh.
He moved faster, his hips thrusting between her legs, making her intensely aware of his body and what he was doing. To her.
The drawing from the book rose in her mind once more. The woman’s head was cast back as the man kissed her throat. And her mouth was open.
Should she feel free to make sounds? It seemed so…primitive. Surely, he would be horrified. She tried to recall if he’d made noise during their previous encounters.
His hand was suddenly between them again, teasing and taunting her, provoking a deep, desperate pulse in her sex. This was what she’d learned—this need for release. Only having him inside her was better. There was no discomfort, no uncertainty. On the contrary, this felt like the most natural, wonderful thing in the world.
“Come,” he said urgently, his lips against her ear. He worked her clitoris with a frenzy, devoting his entire focus to that part of her. Her muscles clenched as the now familiar rush of impending orgasm raced toward her.
She dropped her hand to the side and sucked in air as he pumped into her hard and fast.There.Satisfaction flooded her—far longer and more acutely than when she’d been alone.
As her body began to return to its normal state, he let out a dark cry. She recognized his release. Had he made that sound before? She honestly didn’t know.
His body rocked into hers several more times before he collapsed—gently—atop her. Would this be the time his seed finally rooted?
He didn’t stay with her long before rolling to his side and then off the bed. A bare moment later, he set her night rail beside her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, drawing it over her head.
“Are you all right?” He asked the same question every time after they finished.
“Yes.” She always answered yes. “Quite,” she added, looking over at him and feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed when his gaze locked with hers.
“Er, good.” He’d fastened his pantaloons and now pulled his banyan on, covering his shoulders.
Which she hadn’t managed to touch once. In fact, she hadn’t touched him at all.
“Well, good night, then.” He tied the sash at his waist on the way to the door and was gone.
Sabrina bolted upright. She should go after him. Tell him she meant to touch him, that she was just woefully out of her element, despite demanding this.
Damn.
She’d thought that had gone better—it had certainly felt better. But she wasn’t convinced that it was a great improvement. He still hadn’t removed all his clothing, and he hadn’t lingered more than was necessary. What did she expect when she couldn’t seem to stop gasping and had failed to touch him? Whereas he’d asked her repeatedly if this was what she wanted. It seemed he was trying, and she was only slightly less reserved than she’d been before.
“I need more help,” she said to no one as she stared at the ceiling. Evie would guide her. Sabrina just hoped she could act on it as well as she’d done with her solo enterprise.
Unless… What if she became pregnant tonight? She wouldn’t know for weeks, so that was a moot issue. She needed to continue sharing her bed with Aldington, and dammit, she wanted it to be better than this.
The question was whether he wanted that too.
