Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(50)

She doesn’t move until I grab her ass and squeeze. Her legs quiver, and I can see her feet moving under the blankets. Her toes are curling. I almost slide my hand between her legs but it seems to excite her more when I don’t, and run them down her thigh instead, squeezing the tension out of the muscle.

Feeling her relax under my hands is oddly peaceful, almost meditative. It’s like her calm is absorbing my worry. I peel the covers down and massage her calves. She jerks when I set her foot in my lap and start kneading the sole with my thumbs. I can see her stifling a laugh at first until a contented look takes over her face. The same thing happens when I do the other foot. She squirms, ticklish, and then relaxes, a slack look of pleasure on her face.

Ellie stares with her one eye heavy and lidded, and the way she smiles finishes the job of hardening my cock again. She doesn’t get up, she just slides her legs apart.

I roll the condom down my cock then lie on her legs. My chest rubs over her ass and back as I slide up her body. She tenses just a little as I enter her, but I only put myself inside her just a bit. When she relaxes I slowly lower myself onto her back and work my way fully inside her, straddling her. Her ass feels magnificent against my hips. Her skin is so soft, so warm. The scars scratch my chest and stomach a little.

I kiss her cheek and start to pump, slowly. The urgency is still there but it’s different. I savor her. Each slow thrust is a first taste, and her gasps and tiny movements are like the finish on a fine wine. After a while I lie back and Ellie rolls her hips, grinding on my cock.

In time we start to move together. I want her to come with me. I slip my hand under her, down between her legs. She’s so wet, it’s all over her thighs, and my hand is quickly slick. I move my finger over her lips, swollen from my cock spreading them apart, and listen to her soft groans. She gasps when I touch her clit, the needy look in her eye and the tiny sounds she permits to escape from her throat signaling me. There, slower, faster.

Ellie grasps my wrist, guiding my hand. I can feel her pleasure building up, swelling inside her. Her body chokes my cock, wringing pleasure out of me. It feels so good I don’t want to come, but I do, I want to fill her up, mark her, make her mine. When I brush her cheek with my other hand she nips my fingers and grins her lopsided grin then nips at my fingers again.

Then she starts to suck them. I almost lose it, and thrust a little harder before I make myself slow. No, not yet. Not until she does. When she tries to make me go faster, I slow. When she tries to furiously pump her hips against me and steal the climax from me before I’m ready, I use my weight to pin her down and make her take it slow.

Ellie gurgles a choked noise and stuffs the sheet in her mouth. She’s loud anyway. Her whole body quivers and clenches around me, and I know it’s now, and all I have to do is thrust as deep inside her as I can go and as I explode I feel her fading through me as her climax hits in the same moment as mine, like my body is melting into hers. I clench up like a fist as I explode inside her.

I draw out and roll onto my side. Ellie rolls over too, her back falling against me.

I kiss her cheek and wrap my arms around her until we fall asleep.





Ellie





When I wake up, Jack is still asleep. He should be. He should be exhausted.

I feel weird. Tingly all over. I can’t stop grinning. Jack gets hot when he’s sleeping. He’s pushed all the covers off, so he’s just lying there buck-ass naked. I can’t stop staring at his dick.

It hits me that I’m just as naked as he is, and the covers are down at my waist. I’m just lying here, exposed. I don’t even like to be naked when I’m by myself, and yet here I am, totally nude. Jack turned toward me a little in his sleep and his hand is resting on my leg, right over the scar where they took tissue for my skin grafts.

There’s an alarm clock on the nightstand, an ancient clock radio with very fake wood sides and red, angry digits. It’s seven in the morning. I think I slept straight through from our last, ah, session. I must have been asleep for twelve hours.

I gingerly lift Jack’s hand from my leg and roll on my side. When he feels me fall against his arms he stirs, mumbles something, but doesn’t wake. He moves, though, and grabs me, pulling me against him.

He’s still not awake.

He shifts and his stomach tenses. God, I could watch that all day. He’s perfect. I run my nails over the ridges of muscle, wondering if it’ll wake him. It doesn’t. He keeps snoring into my hair. Neither does running my hand down his thigh. It’s strange how his muscles are so firm but his skin is so soft.

He snorts and makes a noise and I think this is it, he’s waking up, but he doesn’t.

Well, he does and doesn’t. I stare, fascinated, as he gets hard. It’s not instant. His dick doesn’t just shoot up to full attention. It’s like it thickens and stands a little more with every beat of his heart. I can feel the heat and pulse of him when I take it in my hand.

When it’s fully hard, curved a little, and so thick I can’t fully close my fingers around it, his eyes flick open.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

There’s a little flutter in my chest as I realize I believe him. He’s not patronizing me or tricking me or telling me what I want to hear so I’ll let him f*ck me. He means it.

“What’s wrong?”

I stifle a little sob.