Falling for the Beast (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 2)

She didn’t, though.

Half asleep, she fumbled beneath the sheet until she grasped his cock in her small palm. He made a coarse sound, his whole body stiffening. Her eyes remained closed as her soft, clumsy caresses drove him insane. He wasn’t even sure she was totally awake, even when she slipped her panties off beneath the sheet.

He was two seconds away from pushing her away when she slid over him and centered her core above him. His mouth went dry as he stared at her breasts swaying slightly with her motion. Her nipples were dark brown and puckered with arousal, or the cold.

“Erin? Are you sure?”

The sound she made was muffled and indistinct, but it told him what he needed to know. Shh, it said. I know what I’m doing. Let me take what I need. He was, would always be helpless to refuse her. His arms fell to his sides, trembling with the effort not to hold her, touch her, make her move. He wanted to clasp her hips and force her down.

By tiny degrees, she slid around his cock.

The heat of her felt electric, sending shocks of pleasure through his balls and up his spine. He gritted his teeth and resolved not to come. She was exhausted, wrung out emotionally and physically. She needed comfort, not the rough, greedy fuck his body required.

Her eyelids still fluttered softly, lashes brushing her flushed cheeks.

She draped her body over him, pressing her breasts against his chest.

He allowed his hands to hold her then, to stroke her sides in uneven, soothing gestures—though it was really him being calmed, a backward caress. Her hips rolled, setting up a sleepy rhythm that had him ready to shoot in three subtle strokes.

Heat raced down his spine. The need to come felt like pinpricks all over his skin, but no, he wouldn’t. Not while she needed him—not yet, not yet, not yet.

She nestled her nose under his chin, resting her face against his neck. Despite the torrent of sensation in his cock, he felt her breath against his skin. He rocked his hips up to her, meeting her on every stroke. Better than anyone, he knew about the bone-deep relief that could accompany sexual release. He would give that to her, even if it killed him.

Use me, he thought. Take me. Fuck me.

He forced himself silent, and she was quiet, focused. The only sound was skin pushing together, her cunt sucking him in and the insides of her thighs over his hips. He couldn’t see straight, could no longer think with the intensity of her sex surrounding him, her slight weight blanketing him. He was lost in a haze, a fog of pure bliss.

Her orgasm clamped down on his cock.

Her hips jerked to a stop, shuddering on a final, lingering thrust. He didn’t have the fast friction he needed to come, so his cock remained hard and throbbing within her. She stopped moving and made a contented sigh against the side of his neck.

He realized she had drifted off to sleep again.

With him still intensely aroused.

Tense, and drowning, he could still feel the velvety walls of her around his cock. Just thinking about her

made his cock flex. But she was completely still over him, her breathing steady and slow. Gingerly, he moved her just enough to slip his cock from her slick heat, wincing at the cool sandpaper sheets on his sensitive flesh.

She was sleeping, and he wouldn’t wake her, wouldn’t fuck her, wouldn’t give himself relief even if the alternative felt like pinpricks on his aching cock.

Gently he settled her against his side, and she nuzzled against his chest with a contented sigh. He swallowed, forcing back his desire and failing. It was going to be a long night with his cock throbbing with nowhere to go.

With one arm he cradled her close. With the other he reached for his phone. Maybe reading some of the doctorate theses would help him sleep. Even though he was interested in them, there was no denying the language was usually dry.

He tapped the email Jeremy sent him.

There were plenty of options, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening Erin’s thesis. He was so fucking proud of her. He almost wanted to wake her up and have her read it to him, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. So he scrolled down, enthralled, captivated, until he got to the part about a senator from upstate, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Erin

Erin woke up with a long, lazy stretch, hearing the gentle clink of pans and dishes in the kitchen. Rumpled sheets twined around her ankles, leaving a bare expanse of bed beside her.

Which meant Blake was out there with her mother.

A jolt of alarm went through her. What would they talk about? Would they get along? Blake was the most competent, charismatic man she’d ever met. She suspected he could charm a bird out of a tree if he put his mind to it, or in this case, charm a wary, protective mother into giving her blessings. But it was too important for her to relax.

Throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, she stumbled into the kitchen to find Blake standing at the stove and her mother chatting away with a conspiratorial smile.