Page 34 of Lilacs and Leather
I growl in warning, taking her other hand and pulling both of her wrists above her head and pinning them with one of my hands. She gasps at the stretch, her lips trying to catch mine again. I hold myself above her, just out of reach. I need the distance, or else I’m liable to explode in my pants. Or worse, inside of her.
“Oh, you misunderstand me, little one. I will have you begging for my cock like the good little girl I know you are, but all in good time. I want your body atmymercy; I want to be the one driving you to the edge of insanity with need,” I coo, trailing my free hand down her side with feather light touches.
“I’m there now. I’m begging now. I need your cock, I need your knot, please,” Lydia begs, her voice trailing off into sobs.
My knot pulses from her begging, and I close my eyes for a moment. God, I want her. But it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want her to regret our first time. It can’t be like this. I let my thoughts focus on what my hands are doing, the slide of my fingers against her soaked entrance. I swirl one fingertip around, searching for that little pleasure bud. I know I’ve found it when her eyes pop open wide, her hips practically coming off the couch as she arches her back. I brush my finger lightly, barely touching her clit to tease for the moment. The motion helps to distract me, my mind focused on giving Lydia the orgasms she needs to get through this. Even if her unrestrained cries of pleasure and pleas for more are driving me to the very edge of that control.
After a few moments of teasing, I find enough wetness to coat two fingers, sliding them in with ease. I hiss at the tight warmth that surrounds me, pumping my hand slowly. I close my eyes, a moan on my lips as I work her tight channel. I feel my hips rocking in time with my hand, and I nearly lose myself in imagining how her tight, slick cunt is going to feel when I finally slide inside of her.
“So tight, sweet girl. Your cunt is going to feel like heaven around my cock, squeezing like this. Can you take one more for me?” I babble, hardly aware of what I am saying.
“Yes, please stretch my pussy. Your fingers feel so good inside of me,” Lydia moans, her eyes sliding closed, her hips matching my steady rhythm.
I pull my hand free for a moment before sliding a third finger into her slit, her moan of pleasure making my cock throb almost painfully. My balls are heavy, my knot throbbing in time with my racing heartbeat.
“Good girl,” I growl, feeling her clench at the praise.
I pick up the pace, making sure my palm catches on her clit with every push into her. I stare at her face, contorted in pleasure as she fucks herself down onto my hand. She clenches the hands I have pinned above her head in tight fists, and I squeeze her wrists once in warning before letting go. I lean back, sitting on my heels to be level with her hips. I move deep inside of her, finding that spongy spot on her upper wall, scraping my fingers on it with every thrust. I use my other hand to circle her clit, moving with her bucking hips. I want to wring every drop of pleasure her body has to give, to show her I can be everything she never knew that she needed.
“I can’t, it’s too much,” she sobs, her hands clenching in the sheet above her head.
“You can, and you will. Come for me one more time now. There’s a good girl,” I press, increasing my pace again.
My name is a scream on her lips as she clenches hard, drenching my arms as she comes again. I snarl, feeling my entire body thrum as her channel works my fingers. Her orgasm seems to travel up my arm, down my spine and straight to my aching cock. I can feel the hot ropes of my cum against the inside of my boxers, but it doesn’t matter. Not while Lydia still has enough strength in her to come again. I don’t let up, moving with her as she tries to escape from the pleasure. I feel her peak again, and she falls boneless into the cushions, panting heavily, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling. I purr my approval, and her lips pull up at the corners at the unspoken praise. I apply a little more pressure to her G-spot, and her keening whine as she flutters and comes again makes the primal part of my brain turn to mush. I slow my fingers, working her down gently from the high. Her walls clench around me as I withdraw my hand, trying to keep me inside.
I stand, moving to the bags I brought with me, and pull a bottle of water from within. I’m glad I brought an extra set of clothes, but I can feel how sticky I am from Lydia’s release and my own. I’d have time later to feel embarrassed that I came in my pants without her even touching me, but right now, my ruined pants feel like a badge of honor. I kneel next to her head and help her take small sips. She nuzzles into my chest as I hold her against me, and I can’t help the soft purr that escapes me at her attention.
“Sleep, love. I’ve got you,” I whisper, leaning down and kissing her forehead.
She nods and almost instantly relaxes in my arms. I consider just holding her until she wakes on her own, but I need to see to her space while she rests. Once her breathing has evened out, I gently move her fully onto the couch. I look down at her for a long moment and smile to myself. I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger for a moment before moving off to clean and prepare what I can before she wakes again.
Fourteen
Lydia
A gentle hand shakes me awake, and I groan.After not sleeping for more than an hour or two at a time over the past few days, the last thing I want to do is to be awake again. I shift slightly, trying to roll away from the hand.
“Lydia, you need to eat something and then you can go back to sleep,” a firm voice says from above me.
My eyes fly open as I recognize that lilting baritone. I sit up, my vision going black for a moment at the sudden movement. A warm hand on my shoulder stops me from falling over, and I let myself indulge in Rhett’s scent for a moment. There’s a hint of plastic-y scent blocker lingering around him, but I can smell the dark chocolate and whiskey shining through. I recognize it as my scent-blocking body wash, and I feel a little happy twist to my heart. I don’t give myself the space to examine that reaction, even as the tension drains from my shoulders, and I shiver.
“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?” Rhett asks, worry seeping through his voice.
My vision clears, and I turn to look at him. His hair is damp and falls to one side as he leans over me. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. His face is pulled into lines of concern, icy eyes trained on my face. I shake my head, blushing as I realize I’m not wearing a single stitch of clothing. He smiles at me, and my heart melts a little under its warmth.
“Can you walk? I’d like to get you into bed,” Rhett asks gently.
I nod, swinging my legs off the couch. Rhett puts out his hand to help me, but I ignore it. I heft myself up, arms wrapping around my middle as I shuffle across the room. I feel almost normal for the first time in days, and the tide of my embarrassment rises rapidly in my chest. He’s changed my mattress protector and fitted sheet, but the blankets and throw pillows are sitting in a neat pile on the floor next to the bed.
“I didn’t want to do anything with your nest while you were asleep,” Rhett mumbles from behind me.
I turn and see that he’s blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. I give him an appreciative smile that seems to soothe him a little before I reach down and begin to reassemble my nest. Rhett moves off to the kitchenette as I crawl into the hollow I’ve made, and pull a blanket around my shoulders, hugging my knees to my chest under it.
I follow him with my eyes as he finds a bowl-sized mug in my cabinet and pours something from a can into it, popping it in the microwave to cook. My eyes take in the muscled expanse of his back, humming a little. Rhett reaches up to find a plate on an upper shelf, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the tattoo on his left-side ribcage. It’s two lines of elegant script in a language I don’t understand, the dark ink a sharp contrast to his pale skin.
The microwave beeps, and I jump a little at the noise. Rhett takes some crackers from a box and puts them on a plate before pulling the mug from the microwave. He walks them both over to me, and I take the time to appreciate the way his sweats hang on his hips, showing off the V-shaped muscles that trail suggestively below the waistband.
“It’s just broth and some crackers. They’re full of nutrients and should be easy on your stomach,” Rhett explains, placing the plate on the bed next to me before handing me the mug.