Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(10)

Ren’s mouth silenced me. His kiss was soft, and it felt like it had been so long since I got to enjoy this that I felt the kiss all the way to the tips of my toes. When I didn’t scream in pain or anything, he deepened the kiss, nudging my lips apart. His tongue moved against mine. I loved the feel of his mouth on mine, and the way he tasted.

“Goddamn, you’re so sweet,” he said against my mouth. “I got another request. I want to touch you. I need to.”

My breaths were coming in short pants and my hips rocked even though he hadn’t even touched me there yet. “That’s another thing you can assume you have permission for.”

“You just made my night. Hell, my week.” He kissed me again, dragging his tongue over the roof of my mouth. “Fuck it. You made my life.”

Those words lit me up more than any touch could. His hand slipped down between my legs and his mouth covered mine, silencing the moan that ripped from my lungs. Sensation flooded my body, acute and delicious, but a horrible thought snapped at its heels.

Was this wrong?

Ren thought I was like him, that I was a hundred percent human. He had no idea I had fae blood in me, and all Order members, including Ren, hated the fae. I knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be here right now if he knew the truth. He wouldn’t be kissing me like I was something special, to be treasured. Nor would his hand be between my thighs, pressing on the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure.

He would be disgusted.

No.

I am no different.

His hand stilled, because I’d stopped kissing him back. “Hey, sweetness, you okay? Did I—”

“I’m okay. Promise.” I moved my hand under his briefs and my fingers brushed the head of his erection. My breath caught when he groaned.

I was okay.

I had to be.

I was still Ivy Morgan. I was still the girl who fell in love with Ren. I had no idea if he felt that strongly about me, but I was the same girl he cared for—the same girl he wanted.

I kissed him, sliding back on track. Shifting slightly, I spread my legs and reached further down, wrapping my hand around him. He made that incredibly sexy sound again, the deep rumble that never failed to make me hot. His finger slipped through the wetness gathering and my entire body jolted.

“I haven’t forgotten how much you like that, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the first time.” He slid that finger almost all the way out and then thrust it back in, causing my back to arch.

We’d done this before. Once. Not in bed, though, but on the couch at his place. The second time we’d actually had sex, so I wasn’t counting that. So this was kind of like the first time.

I started moving my hand, remembering the way he seemed to like it, and I guessed I was doing it right, because his back bowed and his finger started moving faster in me. He lifted himself up, somehow managing to push down his briefs while not even taking his hand away, and that took amazing talent. Our breaths mingled as the bedspread tangled around our legs. I wanted him in me, thick and hard and wonderful, but we weren’t going to make it that far. Oh no.

He added another finger, and I cried out. My senses twisted with each hot dip of his fingers. “Fuck, Ivy, I. . . .”

I could feel him swelling in my hand, and I all but face planted into his chest when the orgasm hit me. I came, my hips riding his hand as I moaned against his skin. He came in my hand, his cock swelling and then jerking. My name was a heated curse on his lips.

“Christ,” he grunted after several moments. “I can’t even . . .”

“Me neither,” I murmured, easing my hand away. A part of him was left behind, on me, and I didn’t even care. Sweet aftershocks still rocked my body.

A sexy chuckle radiated out from him as he slipped his hand away from me. I immediately missed it and wondered how inappropriate it would be to keep it there for, like, forever. “I can’t believe I came that fast,” he said. He lifted his chin and kissed the corner of my lip. “You got a magic hand.”

I laughed at the absurdity of the statement. “I always wanted to excel at something. Who knew it would be hand jobs?”

“I’m a lucky man.” He rolled away and stood. “Be right back,” he said, and a second later, the light from the bathroom came on. He grabbed a towel and turned the tap water on while I glanced at the clock he’d been blocking. It was a little after three in the morning. The light turned off and Ren returned. He sat on the bed. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Doing as he ordered, I smiled as he moved the warm, damp towel over my hand. In those quiet moments, those three little words bubbled up, but I kept quiet.

Ren disappeared again and returned quickly. This time he rolled onto his side and tugged an arm around my waist, pulling me down so I was nestled against him.

“How’s your ribs?” he asked once he appeared satisfied with where he had me.

“Fine. They barely ached all day.”

“You telling the truth?”

I grinned as I wiggled in closer to him. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” He fisted the front of my shirt. “I just realized I didn’t even make it to your breasts. That’s like a huge sex fail. Those beautiful babies most definitely feel abandoned.”

Giggling, I folded my hand over his. “It’s okay. You can make up for it next time.”