Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(50)

“Here’s another one: I like the way you taste.”

He kneels on the floor between my legs, blows a gust of air on me, and nips at my pubic bone. His fingers are still stretching and circling. Everything inside me starts to quiver. It’s almost here. Closer. Closer.

“Now about that milk,” he says, and pours the still-hot milk between my breasts.

It inflames my skin and streams in one single rivulet down my body and between my legs where his mouth waits and closes around me. The heat of the milk and the pressure of his mouth send me over the edge. The explosion begins instantly. My arms give out as he sucks the last drop of milk, and I slump on the counter. Behind my closed eyelids, darkness is tinged with a reddish haze. His name echoes in the night. I hear it as if I’m underwater.

When I emerge, I can still feel his hushing kisses between my legs and on the insides of my thighs. I peer down at him. He is blurry around the edges. He stands up, smiling, and my vision focuses.

“Don’t move an inch,” he orders and strides in the direction of his bedroom. I only blink a few times, reeling from his secrets and his touch, when he comes back with a condom and stands between my legs.

“Take off my clothes.”

Oh, finally! I start unbuttoning his shirt but it takes too long so I rip it open like he did yesterday. I ignore his chuckle as I unzip his jeans and push them roughly down his legs. He steps out of them, hardened and powerful. My eyes are fixed on the sight, but he raises my chin until I look at him.

“Eyes on me again.” He lifts me from the counter, pulling me close to him and sliding very slowly inside. My body starts building. Just as leisurely, he pulls out and back in at the same pace. His eyes close and his jaw locks in restraint.

“Another secret, Elisa?”

“Yes.” The “s” lingers in the air.

“I like that I’m the only one who’s been here. No other memories like this for you.”

He moves again, and this time a groan whirls in his chest. The sound cuts my ties to reason. I want more. More secrets, more speed, more depth, more him. As though he knows, he puts more force behind his thrusts and my moans change into loud cries. His fingers dig and bruise in my back, his breathing faster. Another thrust. Two, three. I shatter. Everything inside convulses and everything outside throbs. The violent release sucks me under. The last thing I hear is Aiden’s final cry—not a groan, a cry—and then there is silence.

I have the vague sense that I’m being moved somewhere but I have no idea how, or when, or where. When I open my eyes, we are magically on his bed. I’m on my stomach, and he is half-lying over me, his weight pinning me on the mattress. He is kissing behind my ear, nipping at the earlobe.

“Are you coherent?” he says.

“Mmm.”

“Ready for more secrets?” he whispers and before I can answer, he grips my hair and turns my head to the side until our mouths meet. This kiss is different. Savage. Gone are the gentle gusts of air, the soft strokes of tongue. His lips have a possessive edge, as if the secret they’re telling is stormy. I match him as best I can, burying my fingers in his hair. His lips move down my jaw, back to my ear.

“I like the way you smell because I’ve never smelled it before,” he whispers, kicking my legs apart with his knee, and holding my head down against the pillow. His voice is dark. His hand grips my breast roughly. It hurts but it would hurt more if his hands were not on me. My skin starts zapping with a static charge. His hand travels down my body where the charge is at its most potent. Every rough circle he draws with his fingers sends jolts of fire surging in my blood. My lungs can’t keep up.

“Here’s the last secret, Elisa. The way you are right now, mine completely, this is what I’ll remember when I look at that painting.”

He grips my hips and raises them in the air. In the same move, he slaps his cock hard against me. I cry out at the zinging feeling. My blood is pounding in my ears. I hear him tear a foil, from where I have no idea, and then he thrusts about halfway in. I moan in relief. He pulls back. When I whimper, he repeats his game over and over, until the current on my skin turns into something else, an inkling of a different storm in the horizon. This one will finish me. Not because I won’t survive. But because with this claiming, he went beyond my body. There is something so capturing about it that despite my recent liberation, I’ve never felt less free. He rubs himself against me again and stops. I give up and beg.

“Please, Aiden.”

“I think it’s your turn for a secret.”

“I want you!” I shout. Wait—what? What did I just say? I search for him with my hips but he stills them.

“That’s a dangerous secret,” he says in my ear and slams inside me. Oh. My. God. Of all the thrusts I have absorbed, nothing—absolutely nothing—compares to these. I can’t feel any other part of my body except the relentless clenching inside. I’m calling, I’m crying, too loud, too soft, begging, ordering, praying. I can’t understand the words that are coming out of my mouth but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is not just him, but this sense of being his.

“Look at me,” he says through his teeth. My eyes fling open, lost in turquoise. The lightning strikes. For the first time, my release starts in my eyes. Tears gather there, and then everything, especially consciousness drains out of me. We collapse on the bed together. I feel him withdraw and wrap his arms around me, kissing my temple.