The Magic Between Us (Faerie 3)

“Can I touch you,” she breathed.

He swiped a hand down his face. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he grunted.

But she paid him no heed. She reached out one tentative little finger and brushed the weeping slit, swirling it around the head of his manhood. “Cece,” he warned, raising a knuckle to his mouth and biting down.

“What?” she whispered back, a shaky giggle tainting her mirth.

“You’re going to unman me,” he warned.

“That sounds like fun. How do I do that?” she breathed.

But then the dam burst. With her sweet little hand holding his manhood, squeezing him tightly, he couldn’t keep from coming. He spent, his essence hitting his belly as he grunted. The damage was done. He’d come without even being able to get inside her. So, he did what any man would do. He wrapped his fist around hers, and worked it up and down his shaft as he grunted, his seed spilling across their fingers as he worked her hand up and back. She squeezed just hard enough that it hurt like the devil, in a really good way. He looked up, wanting to make eye contact with her, but she watched his manhood, her mouth hanging open as he came.

He reached for her, pulling her down to kiss him in one harsh move. She kissed him back, apparently emboldened by his response. Her tongue slid against his, and he pumped out the last of his seed as she lay on her elbows on his chest, kissing him with passion. She finally pulled back and looked at him, her hand stilling on him when he couldn’t stand any more.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said by way of apology.

“I think it was,” she whispered with a giggle.

“Not until I was inside you,” he said. He sat up and reached for his shirt and used it to clean their hands. Then he crossed naked to the washstand and pulled out a cloth. There was fresh water in the pitcher. Why was there fresh water in the pitcher? It didn’t matter. He wet the cloth and walked back to her, offering it to her, biting his lips together to keep from apologizing again.

She pointed toward his manhood. “It appears not to have affected your rigidity.” Her face flushed crimson as she cleaned her fingers. He took the cloth and wiped his belly.

He would probably never soften again, not while she sat naked like that. He climbed over her, pulling the pillow from her lap as he pushed her to lie back on the bed. “That’s the beauty of the male appendage. It can disgrace you one minute and then be ready to do so again in a moment, apparently.” He couldn’t keep from laughing.

But she wasn’t laughing. She was smiling, yes, but it was a silky siren’s smile, one that shot straight to his groin, and then he didn’t worry about having embarrassed himself. He was going to be inside this woman, and he was going to do it soon.

He lay atop her for a moment, looking down into her inquisitive face. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes,” he confessed.

She closed her eyes tightly and wouldn’t look at him. “One day,” she whispered.

So he would give her one day.

He cupped her breast, plumping it in his palm as he thumbed across her nipple. She squirmed and he settled more firmly between her thighs. Drawing her nipple between his lips, he tongued it gently, and a little noise left her throat. She arched her bottom upward, rocking against him.

“Does this feel good?” he asked.

“I didn’t give you the Spanish Inquisition when I was exploring your body, did I?” she said with a grin.

“How am I supposed to know what pleases you if you don’t tell me?” He blew against her puckered little nipple, which was the same color as her pre

tty little lips, and saw that her nipples were growing just as rosy as her well-kissed mouth.

“You please me,” she said again.

“I let you explore me,” he warned, and then he sat back and settled his shoulders between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked.

Her thighs were perfect. They were fleshy and supple and strong. And he wanted them wrapped around his hips. “Shhh,” he crooned. “I let you look around. Now you have to do the same.”

He shoved her thighs wider, though she protested for a moment. “Pretty,” he breathed, and she shivered as she clenched the bed linens in her fists.

He used one finger to strum up and down the weeping slit, and he applied pressure until he found the center of her and then slowly slid one finger inside. She gripped his finger like a silken glove, and he was glad he’d come in her hand, because he would never have survived the tightness inside her if he hadn’t. She cried out as he slid his middle finger in and out of her, and he let her pick the speed with which he entered her. His thumb pressed above her slit as he tried to find purchase inside the silken depths of her and she froze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping.

“Do that again,” she coaxed.