Part 40 (1/2)

”That feels wonderful,” he told her, his voice shaky, and she knew it was affecting him as much as it affected her. That helped steady her. Dropping her gaze, she looked down his body, seeing the bulge in his pants, and a dart of worry pierced her.

”Yeah, this is turning me on.”

She gulped. ”You want to do it to me.”

”Of course. But, like I said, that part of my body doesn't rule me.”

”I've heard women talking...”

He made a scoffing noise. ”Don't believe all the c.r.a.p about uncontrolled l.u.s.t. I'll keep my pants on,” he said, like last night. ”We're doing this for you, just so you can find out how much you like being with me.” He gave her a long look. ”Everything's still all right?”

She nodded, tensing a little as he s.h.i.+fted position again. But he only reached down to stroke her ankle, then ma.s.sage her arch, before taking each of her toes in his fingers and twisting them. ”Does that feel good?” he asked.

”Yes,” she breathed.

He stroked her ankle again, then pressed his fingers over her pants leg and slid his hand upward, playing with her knee then drifting to her thigh, but never higher.

The technique was effective, because it made her want more.

One hand returned to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, caressing one and then the other, making her nipples ache so that she arched into the caress, silently begging for more.

”You like that?”

She moved her legs restlessly. His hand on her thigh slid upward, pressing between her legs where sensation pulsed. ”You feel it here, too?”

She could only answer with an inarticulate sound.

His slow, careful touches and the increasing intimacy were overwhelming her senses, turning her molten with pleasure she had never known before.

It was more than she could have imagined, yet she wanted more still. And when he pressed harder against the aching spot between her legs, she writhed under his touch.

”I want you to feel all the pleasure I can give you.”

Slowly he slipped his fingers inside the waistband of her pants, pressing over her mound, combing his fingers through the crinkly hairs then dipping lower.

When she tensed, he waited, teasing one nipple with his tongue and teeth, until she cried out and twisted against him.

She had never imagined asking for this. She couldn't ask, not with words. But he seemed to understand what she wanted. The hand under her pants clipped lower. He stroked her with two fingers, reaching down to glide and press against her most intimate flesh while he lowered his mouth to her breast again, sucking her nipple into his mouth.

The sensations reinforced each other, building so that she teetered on the brink between pleasure and frustration, feeling her body questing urgently for something she didn't know how to name.

There was no thought of stopping him when he slipped his fingers inside her, then up to that throbbing spot that ached with need.

”Just let go. Fly with it. Just let yourself feel how good it can be,” he whispered, holding her close as he guided her into a world where need wiped away fear.

He was right. She felt like she was flying away from the earth-as free as her white bird form, her hips rising and falling as she struggled to increase the wonderful sensations his fingers were drawing from her.

As if he sensed what she needed, he changed the angle of his hand, pressing harder and driving her pleasure up and up until he pushed her into a high air current where only heat and light existed.

Crying out his name, she clung to him as wave after wave of ecstasy radiated from the place where his fingers stroked between her legs. The sensations crashed over her, through her, leaving her limp and shaken.