Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(57)

He kissed her again, long and hard, his tongue mating with hers, thrusting and sliding the way he wished his cock could, and it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t e-fucking-nough.

“Laire,” he whispered against her lips, thrusting lightly against her, frustrated that she was warm against him but not wet and enveloping, not sucking him forward, not surrounding him with contracting, quivering muscle.

“Do it,” she said, biting his lower lip. “Just for a minute.”

Just for a minute.

Fuck.

So fucking tempting.

He panted over her, bracing his weight on his elbows.

“I’d still be takin’ your virginity, darlin’, even if we didn’t . . . finish.”

She nodded urgently, a whimpering, pleading noise slipping through her lips. “I know. It’s okay. I want you to.”

Cupping her face with his hands, he forced her to look at him. “Laire, you made me promise.”

“I release you from your promise,” she breathed. “I love you.”

Reaching down between their bodies, he positioned himself at the entrance of her sex, holding himself there, wincing from the strength it took not to slide forward.

“I love you. I don’t . . . I don’t want you to regret this,” he said.

Her hands skated down his back, finally resting on his ass. As though she knew instinctively how to urge him forward, she squeezed his cheeks at the same time she arched her back and raised her knees. And with a gasp of defeat and relief, Erik slid into her welcoming warmth, into the tight, hot sheath of her sex, bursting through the light barrier of flesh until he was buried within her to the hilt.

She cried out—an “unh-ah!” sound of pain—wincing and panting loudly beneath him, her eyes clenched shut, her body rigid.

“Baby,” he gasped, keeping his body as still as possible, resisting every urge to move within her. Her muscles clamped around his thickness, and for a moment his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back in his head, his arms shaking on either side of her head as he fought for self-control. He’d never felt anything like the exquisite fist of Laire’s pussy squeezing him—the heat of her, the wetness, the perfect fit of her body wrapped around his.

“I’m okay . . . I’m okay . . .,” she panted, her breath hot on his lips as a tear rolled from the corner of her eye into her hair. “I knew it would . . . I knew it would hurt a little.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice thready and husky at the same time.

Want.

Worry.

She licked her lips and nodded, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. They were deep and sea-green, glistening with tears but shining with love, and though five women had come before Laire in his bed, none had ever owned his heart as she did. And suddenly it didn’t hurt to remain still, letting her accustom herself to his invasion. It felt right. It felt good. It felt . . . beautiful.

He nuzzled her nose, kissing her gently. When he drew back, she was smiling at him, her face soft and dreamy. “We’re one right now, Erik.”

“We’re one, darlin’.”

He pulled his hips back a millimeter, then let himself fall forward again, watching the play of emotion, of deep pleasure, across her face.

“More,” she murmured. “Do it again.”

He gulped. He didn’t have long before he’d come. It had been a wonderful summer with Laire, but while helping her uncover her own sexuality, his needs had been somewhat neglected. He wouldn’t have much longer before he’d need to come. And while she was a virgin and he hadn’t been intimate with anyone in months, without a condom between them, he definitely didn’t want to get her pregnant.

“One last time,” he said. “Then I’ll pull out.”

She nodded. “One last time. Please.”

Pulling his pelvis back, he withdrew from her almost entirely, then, holding her eyes, he thrust forward again, once, twice, three times, her hips meeting his every time.

“I have to . . . stop,” he said, out of breath, his arms taut beside her head. “We have to . . .”

“Okay,” she said, but her hips flexed again, taking him deeper, and he groaned, feeling his balls tighten in warning.

Pulling out of her with a desperate jerk, he slid his cock into the soaked valley he’d loved with his tongue, thrusting his silken shaft relentlessly against her clit. She whimpered loudly, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him as their teeth clashed together violently. His body slapped against hers, their voices a chorus of grunts and moans, whimpers and gasps, louder and faster. until she tensed beneath him, crying his name, and he came on her clit and her stomach in hot, wet spurts of white.

“IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” she repeated over and over again as she rode out her orgasm, their foreheads touching, their panted breaths mingling.

Sucking in a deep, ragged breath, he rolled to his side, taking her with him, holding her flush against him, with her head tucked into his throat, as he entwined his legs with hers. She shuddered in his arms, her eyes still closed, her breathing shallow.

“Are you okay?” he finally whispered, pressing his lips to her head and wondering how she’d feel about showering together and hoping she’d want to.

She nodded, the hair on the top of her head tickling his chin. “I’ve never . . . I mean . . .”