Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(56)
“No,” she said.
“No what?”
“No TV,” she said, tipping back her Champagne flute and finishing it. “No napping. And limited talking.”
His eyes were dark as he stared at her over the rim of his glass, quickly downing the rest of his wine too. “Then . . .?”
She rounded the corner of the counter, a mix of nerves and want, and took his hand. “Take me to bed, darlin’,” she said, using his nickname for her, hungry for the weight of his body on hers, the glorious touch of his hot mouth to her nipples, to her . . .
“With pleasure,” he growled, leaning down to kiss her once, hard, before leading her up the stairs.
***
Erik’s bedroom, which, like the rest of the house, his mother had decorated in a nautical theme, had a queen-size bed with a navy and white striped duvet. Facing the bed were a fireplace and two leather wingback chairs, and in the corner, his bathroom. Straight across the room were sliding doors that led to the balcony from which he’d first glimpsed Laire. The furnishings were top-notch, but because Erik spent so little time in the room, it looked more like a posh hotel room than his bedroom back in Raleigh, with ACS and Duke pennants on the walls, and framed pictures of his family and friends on the bureau.
As they entered the room, he closed the door behind them out of habit, then dropped her hand. He walked to the windows and pulled the gauzy curtains aside so they could see the moon on the Sound. The room was instantly flooded with soft gray moonlight, and Erik sighed, giving himself a pep talk: reminding himself not to pressure her, not to go too fast, to be aware of her body language. His body was taut with want, his cock hard as a rock. Fuck, she was finally here, in his bedroom. But he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath, promising himself he’d behave, before he turned around to face her . . .
. . . and found her naked, her pale body bathed in moonlight, her clothes in a small pile on the floor behind her.
He gasped softly, his breath catching as he stared at her. The breasts he had touched and kissed so lovingly were high and pert, the deep pink nipples standing at attention. Her arms were at her sides, and his eyes dropped lower, to her pussy, which was covered with a triangle of curls. Taking a ragged, gasping breath, he caressed the swell of her hips and perfect legs with his eyes before letting his searing glance travel slowly back up her body to her face.
“Tell me what to do,” she murmured, her voice so soft, it was barely audible.
“L-Laire,” he whispered, striding across the room to pull her into his arms.
Her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt, dispatching them quickly as they kissed hungrily. He shrugged out of the cotton material, releasing her only to tug the cuffs from his wrists. She reached for his belt and unbuckled it as she leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him again, and Erik, impatient to feel her skin pressed against his, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his khakis and boxers, and forced both over his hips without unzipping, grateful for the whoosh of fabric against his legs.
Finally naked.
Bare to each other.
He reached for her, pulling her against his tingling, impatient skin, which melted into the satiny warmth of hers, his rigid cock cradled against the soft V of her thighs. With his arms around her, he backed her gently to the bed, leaning into her until she lay on her back.
“Scoot up,” he mumbled before joining her, lowering one knee to either side of her perfect legs and bending his head to kiss the soft, virgin skin of her stomach.
“Erik,” she murmured, reaching for his head, her voice heavy with lust but edged with a hint of panic.
“I want to kiss you here,” he said, covering the rosy thatch of curls over her clit with the palm of his hand.
She gasped, her breath hitching as her fingers curled into his scalp.
“Let me,” he whispered, parting her with his fingers and stroking her clit tenderly as he wedged his knees gently between her legs.
“Oh, God . . . okay,” she murmured breathlessly.
Kneeling before her, he put his hands under her hips, cupping her ass to draw her body closer to his face. Bending his head, he closed his eyes and let his tongue glide gently against her nether lips, first up one side and then down the other.
She mewled softly, arching her back and pressing her head into his pillow as he lapped at her already-swollen clit, then flicked the tender bud with his tongue, feeling his own erection harden in response to her whimpers and moans. She reached for his forearms, curling her fingers into his muscle as he took the throbbing nub between his lips and kissed her, sucking lightly, caressing her aching place with his tongue before letting her go. Her hips bucked, and she pushed against his face, her fingernails digging into his flesh as she cried out in pleasure.
“I want to feel you,” she sobbed through panted breaths, her hips still gyrating against his comforter rhythmically. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He slid up the bed to lie beside her on his side, leaning over her to kiss her lips and look into her heavy, half-closed eyes.
He wanted to. Oh, fuck, but he wanted to.
I need your help to be good.
Her words resonated in his head as she reached for his neck, curling her fingers just under the base of his skull and demanding his lips. Rolling on top of her, his cock throbbed against her damp curls. She was wet and ready for him, aching for him just as he was aching for her.
“Please,” she moaned beneath him, wiggling her hips, trying to get closer. “Please. We don’t have to . . . have sex. I just want to know how it feels.”