Wicked Burn

“Good,” he murmured. He spread her thighs and moved between them, the action causing her labia to part and the butterfly to flutter against her more intimately. Niall groaned as she watched Vic reach for a condom in his bedside table. After he’d rolled it on, he spread one hand over her hip and pressed down on the butterfly lightly . . . teasingly. When she tried to twist her hips at the intense sensation, he held her steady.

Niall gasped. Her facial muscles tightened.

“Vic,” she moaned as she stared up at him and her pleasure mounted. She spread her hand across his rib and flicked his nipple with her fingernail.

“That’s right, Niall,” he whispered tensely. “Touch me.”

He moved, flexing the arm that held her hip while the other held his rigid member poised at the ready. Niall moaned when he entered her. Vic flexed his hips until his cock was sheathed halfway in her body. His hands fell down next to her head as his eyes met hers.

“Touch me everywhere,” he grated before he pushed his cock all the way into her.

Niall’s expression broke at the abrupt pleasure of his thrusting cock combined with the subtler sensation of the butterfly vibrator on her clit. But what made the moment even more poignant was his request to for her to touch him. Vic—who typically preferred to restrain her hands while he gave her almost more pleasure than she could endure—was allowing her to touch him . . . to love him.

She did, glorying in the sensations of smooth skin gloving flexing muscles as he moved in and out of her with long, satisfying strokes just as much as she did the feeling of his cock stimulating and rubbing her deepest reaches so thoroughly. Her fingers worshipped his strong back, her palms curved around his tight, flexing ass. When she skimmed her nails along the skin at the side of his torso, it roughened beneath her fingertips. She saw his small, brown nipples stiffen noticeably. Niall leaned up and ran the tip of her tongue over one sensitive morsel. She flicked at it more insistently once she’d experienced the deliciousness of the pebbled flesh, running the sensitive tip of her tongue over it to feel each fascinating little bump. She cried out in aroused disbelief when he grabbed her hips and began to thrust into her more demandingly.

“You see why I usually have to restrain you, little butterfly?” he asked between clenched jaws, his gray eyes blazing. “If I didn’t, I’d probably be coming in you within minutes every damn time.”

A continuous cry of delight vibrated her throat when he began to pump her hard and fast, making the bed pitch against the wall. When Vic clenched his eyes shut and a harsh shout erupted from his throat, her arms encircled him. In the moment of his climactic crisis he was weakened. She pulled him down against her. Her heart beat madly in her chest at the sacred feeling of his lean, strong body shuddering violently in orgasm while she held him so tightly.

His breath sounded loud and ragged in her ear when he fell limply on top of her a few seconds later. Niall cherished that sensation as well. It had felt indescribably wonderful to her to have Vic allow her to love him in that way. She turned her head and nuzzled his damp neck.

His male scent—sweat, spice, and musk—drove her wild.

She became aware that with his weight pressed down on her, the butterfly’s buzzing was so intense that a distinct burning sensation plagued not only her sex, but crept past her pussy to enliven the nerves in her ass. She pressed her hips restlessly against the bed to alleviate the friction growing there. The bottoms of her feet sizzled with a sympathetic ecstasy. She pressed her aching nipples into Vic’s hard chest, scraping them against his crisp chest hairs.

She groaned in an agony of pleasure.

Vic’s eyes blinked open at the sensation of Niall’s hips twisting against him and the sound of her tortured moan. His nostrils flared at the sight of her beautiful face transformed by pure desire. A light sheen of perspiration coated her features. He leaned up and brushed his lips against the adorable freckles on her perfect nose.

“My little butterfly is dancing close to the flames,” he whispered before he sandwiched her full, parted lips between his own and plucked at her languorously.

“Vic, please,” Niall whispered. Her nipples poked into him like hard little darts. He felt her push up, pressing the vibrator against his pelvis to give her more pressure on her clit. He had the little gizmo on a fairly low setting, hoping to keep her just beneath the boiling point for as long as she could endure.

Or he could endure, for that matter.

Niall gasped in protest when he withdrew from her. Vic winced in sympathy to her plight as he stood quickly and went to dispose of the condom. His cock was still partially hard and extremely sensitive to his touch. When he came out of the bathroom, the first thing he saw was Niall pressing down with her fingers on the little yellow butterfly, her hips undulating in tight little circles against it. A sharp pain of arousal stabbed through him, causing his cock to bob up in the air.

So much for a partial erection.

He took three long steps to the side of the bed and flipped off the vibrator. Niall’s head came up off the pillows, her red lips parted in preparation to protest. Vic just shook his head when she made eye contact with him.

“I’m the one who’s going to make you come, Niall, not a piece of plastic.”

She panted as she watched him come down on the bed next to her. Niall always had driven him into a frenzy of lust with the magnitude of her honest, complete responsiveness to him. But seeing her tonight, sensing both the strangeness and the sacredness of what she’d told him about having a child and losing him . . . it was doing something to Vic that he couldn’t even describe. He experienced an overwhelming need to take her with him into the dark, mysterious depths of intimacy, to explore a place where they’d never gone.