Page 86 of Only and Forever
He presses me back on the sofa, propping himself up on one elbow. I stare up at him as his fingertips trace the line of my panties, high above my hip, down my pelvis. I arch into his touch.
His eyes hold mine, as one finger, then two drift over the seam of my panties, right where I’m wet and aching, dying for his touch. “I’ve wanted you like this since the moment I saw you.”
He rubs right over my clit, a light, swift circle. I gasp. “I wanted you, too.”
“Fuck, Lu.” He bends and kisses me, tender, featherlight, chasedby a swift bite of my bottom lip that’s gone before I’ve even processed it happened. “You drove me wild,” he whispers.
“Well then, you’re getting your vengeance now, because this is torture.”
He smiles; his eyes search mine, questioning. “Good torture?”
I nod, shake my head. It feels incredible, but I’m so desperate to feel all of him, his skin on mine, giving me the relief I crave. “More,” I whisper.
He holds my eyes, another circle over my panties, before his fingers hook around the fabric and tug it aside. Cool air kisses where I’m hot and aching.
I’m panting, shamelessly needy as his fingers glide over me, slick and slow.
His mouth falls open. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
I nod frantically.
“God, Lula.” He shakes his head, wonder in his eyes as he circles my clit, steady, light. I cant up my hips into his touch. “Tell me,” he says quietly. “Tell me how to make it good.”
“Just a little more pressure and faster.”
“As the lady wishes.”
I smile as he kisses me. His touch shifts how I’ve asked, and he watches me, studying me. A moan rolls out of my throat when he gets there—just how I like. “Perfect,” I gasp. “Oh, please don’t stop. Viggo, please don’t stop—”
“I won’t.” He bends his head again and kisses me, urgent, deep, wild, teeth clacking, tongue stroking my mouth. Sweat blooms on my skin as heat seeps through me, pools tight and low in my belly, between my thighs where he works me steadily.
My legs start to shake. My foot scrambles for purchase on the sofa as I roll my hips into his hand. Every corner of my body sings, a plucked string vibrating, pleasure humming through my limbs.
This is nothing like I’ve known, clothed but laid bare, touchedby someone who wants to seeallof me, who I’m letting see so much more than I ever have.
Our eyes lock as moans leave me—broken, jagged sound I have no control over.
Viggo smiles down at me softly, one hand bringing me so much pleasure, stroking, swirling. When he glides a finger inside me, I cry out, clutching his shoulder.
His palm, calloused, rough, rubs right over my clit as he curls another finger inside me and strokes, slow and deep.
“Yes,” I plead, my hand clutching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him down into a messy, begging kiss. “Yes. Oh, God, Viggo.”
“I have you, Lula.” His voice breaks on my name as he feels the first promise of my body’s release, tightening around his fingers. “Let go. Come for me, Lu.”
Release slams through me, a molten tidal wave obliterating every sensation but his hand, his fingers, his mouth serenading mine, swift, hungry strokes of his tongue, his hips rocking against me.
I call his name again and again, as he wrenches every drop of that white-hot wave, until it ebbs, finally soft, finally stilled.
I stare up at him, breathless and broken open, held in his arms.
Viggo smiles softly. A rough swallow works down his throat. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Warmth floods my cheeks. I shake my head. “Nonsense.”
“No, Lula.” He kisses me sweetly, brushing his nose with mine. “That’s the honest truth.”
Sighing, I drift my hand down his chest, over his pounding heart. “My turn.”