Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)

One of his hands landed softly on her right breast, his palm a gentle friction on the distended nipple. The other hand cupped her left breast, his thumb brushing the sensitive tip for a moment before she felt the soft, wet heat of his lips suck the aching nub into his mouth.

She gasped from the sharp sweetness of the sensation, her eyes rolling back in her head as her hips lifted from the couch, seeking, demanding more from the source of her pleasure. His tongue swirled around one nipple as his thumb and forefinger gently rolled the other to a peak. Covering her damp skin with the warmth of his palm, he skimmed his lips across her chest and licked a circle around the tip of her other breast. When he sucked the erect bud into his mouth, she writhed beneath him, her pelvis pressing into his chest with urgency.

She rested her forearm across her eyes, listening to her quick and choppy breathing. “Erik,” she sobbed, “I need . . . I need . . .”

More.

So much more.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his breath hot then cold over her glistening skin.

But she didn’t know what to ask for. She didn’t know how to put it into words. She only knew that he was the only one who’d provided the relief she’d found in the gazebo. He knew how to take care of her.

“Please,” she whispered.

He raised his head, and a thick lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. “I can make it better, darlin’. You want me to make it better?”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, biting down on her lower lip as she moved her hips in frustration.

His fingers trailed down the naked skin of her belly, skimming and tickling her soft skin until he reached the button of her black skirt. He popped it open, then reached for her zipper. As the teeth opened slowly, she had a moment of panic, and her eyes popped open. She lurched up, resting her hands over his.

“I can’t—”

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“No, I . . . Erik, I can’t be . . .”

“What?” he asked, a small smile softening his face.

“Naked,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks flush.

His smile widened, though she sensed he was trying to control it. He swallowed slowly, then cleared his throat, adjusting his hand under hers. He rested it, flat and still, on her skirt, over the place that throbbed for him. “Is this okay?”

She nodded. “Mm-hm.”

Holding her eyes, he slowly shifted his hand, slipping it under the waistband of her panties and flattening it on the warm flesh of her lower belly. “Is this okay?”

She imagined that the tips of his fingers were touching the tight strawberry blonde curls that no human fingers had ever touched except hers and her doctor’s. But this was Erik. And Erik loved her. She was certain of it.

“Mm-hm,” she sighed, sliding her own hands away and letting them rest on the couch beside her hips. She closed her eyes as his fingers dipped lower, spreading the soft folds of skin that hid the aching little button of nerves beneath.

She gasped sharply as his finger came into contact with that part of her, whimpering with pleasure and just a little bit of fear that had nothing to do with trusting Erik and everything to do with the feelings, the changes, the symphony of sensations pulling her head and her heart and her very soul in too many new directions to follow.

“It’s okay,” he whispered close to her ear, sucking the lobe between his lips as his finger slid against that hidden place once again.

“Errriiiik,” she murmured, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

His finger dipped lower for a moment, and when it returned to slide between her silky folds, it was wet and slick, the digit slipping back and forth across the aching nub with increasing speed and pressure.

He trailed gentle kisses along the column of her throat, resting his lips against her throbbing pulse as she started breaking apart. Her fingers twisted into the couch cushions as her head strained back against the pillow, her hips flexed up to meet his every touch and slide. Breathing faster and faster, she felt the convulsions start deep, deep within her body, radiating out until her entire body was shuddering with pleasure so intense, she felt tears roll from the corners of her eyes.

“I love you,” Erik whispered. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone before.”

“I . . . I love . . . y-you too,” she panted.

His lips claimed hers hungrily as he slipped his fingers from her panties. Gathering her into his arms, he shifted them both to their sides, facing one another and holding her as her body shuddered and shook from the aftershocks of bliss. She rested in his arms, limp and sated as he wiped tears into her hair with the pad of his thumb. And she knew—in that moment she knew—how it felt to be utterly loved, and she trusted him, this man so different from her in every way, with a depth and width and breadth that she never could have imagined was possible.

When she could finally open her eyes, she looked directly into his.

“Erik . . . that was . . .”

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his lips lightly to hers.

“But what about you?” she asked, feeling the stony ridge of his erection pushing against her.