I clutch at his shoulders, tangle my fingers in the cool silk of his hair, and tug him closer even as I arch my back, lift my hips.
He laughs then, a low, dark sound that vibrates through my sex and into the very heart of me. And just that easily I move from desire to need. “Ethan, please. I need—” My voice breaks on a moan as he circles my clit. Once, twice, then again and again. Long, slow sweeps of his tongue that bring me right to the edge of climax. And then take me over.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me and I hold on to him like the lifeline he is. His touch grounds me, gentles me, even as it takes me higher, until nothing exists but him and me and the feelings that stretch between us.
I come down with a gasp, and reach for his shoulders, try to pull him over me. But Ethan isn’t having it. Instead, he turns his head and nips at my fingers until I lean back and let him have his way with me.
And what a way it is. The first time he built my orgasm straight up, took me over quickly. This time he goes slower, makes me wait. He licks and sucks, tastes and touches and torments me until I can’t move, can’t think, can’t even breathe. And then he does it some more.
His tongue is everywhere. Everywhere. Circling my clit, tracing my slit, delving deep inside my sex while the pleasure goes on and on and on. Until I’m begging. Until I’m screaming. Until I go beyond individual orgasms to a place where there is no end and no beginning, only continuous, never-ending ecstasy.
And still he pushes me. Still he demands more.
I’m sobbing. Mindless. A body driven by the sweet, hot edges of pleasure and pain. So wrapped up in sensation, in what Ethan is doing to me, that there’s no room for fear. No room for what Brandon did to me. No room for anything but Ethan and the response he draws from me so effortlessly.
“Please,” I beg. “Please. ”
He lifts his head, his blue eyes sparkling wildly as he looks at me. “What do you need, baby?”
“You,” I gasp. “I need you. ”
“You’ve got me, Chloe. Don’t you know that by now?”
And then he lowers his head and sends me careening over the edge of oblivion one more time.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Are you okay?” he asks minutes later when I still haven’t moved.
“Define okay. ” I can’t even muster the energy to open my eyes.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Or scare you?”
I smile at that, run a languid hand down his arm until my fingers twine with his. “Do I look scared?”
“You look comatose. ”
I laugh. “That’s about how I feel. ”
“Good. ” He shifts a little, making the water lap against my still-sensitized skin in a way that makes my nipples harden and my breath catch in my throat. Then he turns the water on.
“What—”
“Shh,” he murmurs as his fingers slide up my arm and shoulders to my neck and then my head. He digs through my curls, starts to massage my scalp even as he turns me so that my head is under the gently running water.
Once my hair is completely wet, he reaches for the shampoo and squeezes some into his palm before slowly working it through my hair. He plays with my curls as he coats each strand, strokes my scalp. Then tilts my head back and rinses the soap away.
He does the same with the conditioner, taking his time and rubbing my scalp in a motion that has my eyes all but rolling back in my head. I’m totally sated, completely spent, and yet I can’t help thinking that if he keeps this up, he just might make me come again.
Eventually he rinses out the conditioner, too, then skims his lips across my forehead.
“Okay?” he asks again.
I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “Perfect. ”
“Good. ”
He leans forward and opens the stopper for the bathtub before stepping out of the tub. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist before reaching to pull me up and out.