Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(28)

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Yes. Go to sleep.”

“Stop sniffing me.”

“No.”

Something else is happening. My hand is moving down her stomach, lower and lower, so slowly I didn’t even realize I was doing it. Ellie squirms on the bed, wriggling her ass against me, and I hear her let out a little noise that might be a silenced giggle.

“Jack,” she says.

She puts her hand on my wrist. I expect her to pull me away but she pushes instead, harder when my hand slips inside her sweats. A little gasp escapes her throat when I gently lift her underwear and slip my hand inside.

Ellie is burning hot between her legs, like she has a fever. So hot I almost pull my hand away as I work it between her thighs, gently probing with my fingers. She lifts her leg a little and then squeezes my hand when I find the sweet spot. A shudder runs down my spine and my cock stiffens at the feeing of her soft, slick * lips against my finger. I’m not sure if I push a little and enter her or if the way she rolls her hips takes my finger inside her, but I slowly press it in, feeling her pulse and shudder against me as my finger enters her body all the way to the knuckle.

“I’ll be quiet,” she says, very softly. “Do it.”

My heart pounding, I curl my finger gently inside her and then extend it again, reading the way her body twitches and tightens in reaction. I can feel the tension in this one spot— “Right there,” she begs in a throaty whisper.

I oblige her. She likes it when I grind my palm against her, too. Soon I feel bold and slip a second finger inside her. She’s made my whole hand wet, she’s so hot. I freeze when I feel warm wetness around my other finger; she’s taken my first finger on my other hand in her mouth and she’s sucking it as I run the tips of my fingers inside her body. She moves in time with them, like a puppet.

I can feel her straining as she lets out tiny grunts and throaty noises almost like coughs as she holds back moans, and it makes my cock rock hard. I get even harder from knowing she can feel it grind into her ass as she rubs against me. I start to pump in time with her, running the underside of my shaft along her back through my clothes.

I have to stop before I explode all over her. I hold her tight and feel her curl up around my hand, drawing up into a ball. She rolls a little and then I’m halfway on top of her.

She bites my finger and I yank it out of her mouth before she clamps down. I can feel her whole body as tight as a coiled wire, and it gives me such a rush, like the pleasure is rolling through her into me. I pump my fingers faster.

“I want to taste your *,” I whisper in her ear.

I don’t get the chance. She explodes, but never makes a single sound except for a strained throaty whimper as she writhes and thrashes in the bed, shaking it with her motions.

When she finally calms I draw my fingers out of her and pull my hand back. I can’t help it. She rolls over just in time to see me licking my hand clean. God, she tastes good.

Ellie kisses me. Hard. Hard, as with intensity, but also with inexperience. She was always like that, she kissed so hard it hurt and became gentle after, like she was afraid she’d miss the chance. When she settles down this time I taste her and savor her, and tug on her bottom lip with my teeth. She returns the favor with a sudden urgency.

“I think we might talk about sex,” she whispers in my ear. “Not tonight but soon.”

I grab her ass with both hands and she giggles.

I grind my cock against her. I can’t help it.

“You’re torturing me.”

“Good,” she says, and rolls over.

It takes me a while to get to sleep with my hard-on pressed into her butt, but eventually I drift off. The next time I open my eyes I have a serious cotton mouth, a throbbing ache in my balls, and Ellie in my arms.

That makes up for the others, until she sits up and takes that from me. She yawns the way she does, like she can’t open her mouth all the way.

“I should have known,” a booming voice says from the kitchen. “Who’s up for pancakes?”





Ellie





I’m not sure if I actually heard someone say, “Pancakes?” or if I dreamed it, until I sit up and catch a whiff of the scent on the air. Jack runs his hand up my back, and I shiver. I wasn’t dreaming. I slept with him. I can’t look at him without a flush creeping up my neck and face.

That actually happened. He sits up next to me, yawns, and looks at me. Waiting. What do I do? What do I say?

I always missed him, but I never knew how badly I needed to share a bed with another person until last night. Just the warmth of him around me put me right to sleep, without the night sweats and frightening dreams that plague me. I slept straight through until morning.

I think it’s morning.

“It’s noon,” my uncle bellows. “Get out of bed.”

Jack gets up first and takes my arm, steadying me as I stand up and yawn. I stretch my arm over my head and roll my left shoulder, trying to work out the tension.

Jack puts his hands on my shoulders from behind, and I wince. His thumbs dig into my neck, and he lets out a low whistle.

“Tense, huh?”

I nod but shrug out from under him and walk into the kitchen. My uncle is already laying out a full spread on the table—a big and growing pile of floppy, fluffy pancakes on a plate in the middle, fresh butter, French toast, bacon, sausage, and he’s making the eggs.