The Secret (North Woods University 3)

Peering up at me, with his hazel eyes bleeding into mine, he asks, “Have you ever come before?” Biting at my bottom lip, I nod my head yes. Before everything happened, I had masturbated a time or two but since then the thought of doing so… it’s repulsed me.

“Words Emerson, use words with me. I want, yes or nos so that I know if you’re okay with something. I don’t want to hurt you or scare you.”

He reaches out and caresses my cheek, and I almost sigh into the pillows. His touch is like a healing balm on my skin.

“Yes, I’ve… come before, but it’s been a long time.” His hand drops from my cheek and trails down my body, over the top of my breast, and down over my belly, stopping once he reaches the hem of my shirt. I shiver even though he hasn’t touched my bare skin yet, an electric current pulsates between us.

“Do you want my tongue or my fingers…” he questions, his voice taking on this deep honeyed sound. Caught up in the sound, it takes me a moment before I can gather my thoughts and answer him.

“Fingers…” I whisper. “I want to be able to see your face, in case…”

He just nods, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “I want to take your shirt off. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice coming out stronger than I expected. He grabs hold of the fabric and starts pulling it up very slowly, never breaking eye contact, as if he is making sure I don’t freak out or change my mind along the way. He’s handling me like I’m made of glass, like I’m fragile and while I am fragile, I’m also already broken. There’s nothing he could do that could make things worse.

The shirt comes off over my head, leaving me in nothing but my panties. Without looking Clark throws it over his shoulder, the cotton shirt landing in a heap on the floor somewhere next to the bed. Without a single sliver of urgency at all he leans in, his lips finding mine, as soon as our lips touch a spark ignites in my belly and I find myself reaching for him, my hands flying up to grab onto his shoulders.

His muscles ripple beneath my hands, and before I realize it, he’s moving us backward, gently placing me against the pillows. He starts to pull away and a tiny whimper subconsciously slips past my lips. I sink my nails into his flesh, willing him to stay, and a hiss of pain or maybe pleasure meets my ears.

Our eyes clash, his pupils are dilated, his nostrils flared. He’s looking at me like he wants to eat me, ravage me, but there is more… something else hiding in the depth of his eyes, past the lust and the need.

Bringing both hands to my stomach, he runs his fingers over the flesh with a feather-light touch, then he lets them trail down to the waistband of my panties, resting there for a long moment. He’s giving me a chance to stop him, a moment to tell him no. When I don’t say anything, he continues dipping his fingers inside the band, he starts to pull them down and I lift my hips to help him get them off.

Everything feels electrified as he pulls the small piece of fabric down my legs, letting his knuckles glide along the flesh as he goes. When the panties are off, he flings them over his shoulder like he did with my shirt. I’m bare now, completely exposed to him, and yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never in a million years thought that I would be okay being so exposed, so vulnerable in front of a man.

There’s a stampede of horses in my ears that I know is my heartbeat. My nipples are hard peaks and I need him to touch me, need him to soothe the ache between my thighs.

With a softness that doesn’t match his demeanor, he says, “Spread your legs for me.” Without thought I do as he asks, my legs fall open without fear, and I know what I’m doing. I’m giving myself to him, trusting him completely.

“Remember, all you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. I swear, Emerson,” he assures me, but I don’t need his assurance. I just need him.

Leaning forward, he holds onto my hip with one hand and sucks one of my hard nipples into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation that swirls deep in my belly as his tongue flicks against the hardened nub. I can’t stop my hands from moving, it’s like they have a mind of their own as they run through the short strands of hair, my nails sinking into his scalp.