Chapter 25 The Fall #4
The flush that swept across her chest answered before her words.
“I know you’re a virgin, but was there ever…?”
She swallowed. “No.”
The word sent fire through his chest. She’d given herself to the Feast—signed her body over to strangers in masks—and her innocence somehow remained intact.
Her implicit trust in him was staggering. He didn’t want to hurt her. Despite his tortured past, she was the first woman he’d touched like this. The first woman he wanted to touch.
“We can slow down.” His voice came out ravaged.
“Only if you need to.” Her hips tilted toward him, seeking. “I want your hands on me.”
Something fractured behind his ribs.
He pressed his forehead to her sternum, breathing through the weight of what she was offering. “I need you to tell me if anything hurts.” He lifted his head to hold her gaze. “Not silence. Not endurance. If there’s pain, you tell me, and I stop. Understood?”
She nodded, eyes luminous in the firelight.
“Words, Daisy. I need to hear you say it.”
“I’ll tell you. I promise.”
He kissed her then—soft, reverent, a seal on the covenant between them. When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, and her breath came in shallow pants.
“We’ll go slow,” he murmured against her mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”
He pressed his finger inside—barely a knuckle’s depth—and her body clamped around him like a fist. So impossibly tight. So blisteringly hot. His cock throbbed with jealous anguish, straining against the fine wool of his suit, desperate to feel her everywhere.
“Ah…” Breath shuddered out of her, equal parts surprise and discovery.
He held perfectly still, giving her time to adjust, his lips trailing featherlight down the column of her throat. “Just breathe. Let your body open naturally.”
He counted her heartbeats against his mouth, never taking his lips off of her. When her inner muscles softened, and her hips rocked in tiny, unconscious circles, he allowed himself another inch.
She gasped. Her fingers dug into the bedding above her head.
“Still okay?”
“Yes. More. I want—” Her voice fractured. “I want to feel more of you.”
It wasn’t a performance. She was a revelation in truth.
He sank deeper, curling his finger to stroke along her front wall, searching, watching her every response. Her spine arched off the mattress, and a sound tore from her throat that was almost a scream.
“There—oh God, there!”
He pressed again, her inner walls gripping his stroking finger, her slick heat pulsing against his knuckle. Her heartbeat pulsed against his knuckle—that intimate throb of blood that fluttered excitedly.
“You’re opening now.” He kissed the words into the hollow of her throat. “Can you take more?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. Just hunger.
He withdrew almost completely, swirling a second finger in her arousal, then pressed into her entrance slowly. The fit was tight and the stretch visible in the way her brow furrowed.
“Too much?”
“No, keep going.” Her teeth sank into her lower lip.
“Breathe out,” he instructed. “Push against me. Let me in.”
She obeyed, exhaling slowly, and her body surrendered. His fingers slid home, filling her completely, and the moan that spilled from her lips was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.
“Jack.”
“There we go.” He carefully stretched her with slow, measured strokes. “Does that feel nice?”
“Mmm, yes.”
Her body unfurled beneath him as it learned pleasure for the first time—as they both discovered her pleasure together.
He curled his fingers, building her higher with each deliberate stroke. His other hand found her breast, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and she writhed between the dual sensations like a woman caught in a fever.
“That’s it.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tight peak. “Every sound you make gets me hard.”
Her hips rolled against his hand. He added his thumb to her clit, pressing firm circles. “Don’t fight it. Just let your body take what it needs.”
Her pleasure became his obsession. Every flutter of her lashes, every catch in her breath, every desperate roll of her hips was a language he wanted to speak fluently.
“Jack…”
He kissed the underside of her jaw, her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
His fingers drove deeper, curling, stroking as his thumb worked in relentless circles. She was so wet, the slick sounds of her body collided with her moans. Her inner walls clenched and released in a steady flutter, building until her whole body trembled.
“Oh God—oh God—”
“That’s it. Don’t hold back.”
She arched and shattered, her mouth falling open on a silent scream, her sex clamping down on his fingers with rhythmic pulses that seemed to go on forever.
He stroked her through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks rolled through her body, watching her face with something that felt dangerously close to awe.
When she finally stilled, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed and unfocused, he withdrew his fingers slowly.
His fingers glistened with her release, and her scent intensified. Like a delicacy, he licked his fingers clean.
“Jack!” She blushed to the tips of her breasts and covered her mouth.
“You taste like salvation.” He kissed her. “Like absolution.” He licked at her lips, letting her taste for herself. “Like everything pure in this fucked up world.”
She lay boneless against the sheets, hair tangled across the pillow, skin flushed from throat to navel. Her gaze dropped to the rigid bulge straining against his suit.
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She shook her head. “If only that were possible.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“I know. It’s about us, Jack.” Her hands remained over her head, fingers entwined, as her gaze became a caress in itself. “Would you touch yourself?” Her voice trembled nervously.
“That’s not necessary—”
“Jack, please. I’ll keep my hands right here, I promise.” When he looked away, she said, “I know you touch yourself in the shower. Why not here, with me? If you want, I’ll shut my eyes. I just… I want to hear you too.”
His breath punched out of his lungs. Slowly, he reached for her face, gently closing her eyes. His hands shook as he reached for his belt. The buckle clinked in the firelit silence—obscenely loud—and he hesitated with his fingers on the metal.
“I’m right here with you,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The buckle released. The zipper parted. And when he finally drew himself free from the confining fabric, the relief was so acute it tore a groan from his chest.
He was painfully hard, the engorged head of his swollen cock slick with need. He fisted his thick length, his body straining for relief.
She kept her eyes closed as he lay alongside her naked body, his clothes blocking him from feeling her beautiful skin. His other hand settled on her inner thigh—still slippery with her arousal—needing the contact, needing the reminder that this was shared. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her mouth as his fist tightened around his length, and he stroked in earnest. Slow at first, so as not to startle her. But those long, deliberate pulls made his hips thrust. His fist moved faster, and a groan escaped.
He fingered her slowly, sliding her cream through his fingers, then switching hands so he could feel her slick arousal sliding over him.
“Are you looking at me, Jack?”
“Yes.” The word was barely human.
“Are you pretending it’s my hand touching you? My mouth? Your cock where your fingers are?”
“Fuck,” he gasped.
His hips thrust as he fucked his fist. It wasn’t enough. He leaned into her, dragging the tip of his dick along her thigh. Soft. Luscious. God, she was drenched.
His breath came faster. His clothes rustled with every shift. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in as his hand worked faster.
Her scent surrounded him. Her warmth bled through layers of tailored wool. He was still armored, still suited, still technically untouched, but he’d never been more exposed in his life.
“I’m close,” he groaned against her throat.
“Don’t stop.” Her voice was so gentle. So sure. “I want to feel it, Jack. Can you give that to me?”
Permission.
His rhythm turned frantic. Graceless. Desperate. He pressed harder against her thigh, slicking himself through the wet mess of her arousal. His body shuddered. He couldn’t breathe.
“Daisy, Christ, I’m…”
A ragged sob tore from his throat as his release ripped out of him, erasing thought, erasing shame, erasing everything but the pulse of pleasure she stirred. White-hot heat spilled across her thighs, marking her skin, ruining his suit.
He didn’t care.
She gasped, breathing as hard as he.
Aftershocks shook him from head to toe. His forehead pressed to her shoulder, breath sawing in and out of his lungs while his heart threatened to beat through his ribs.
He looked down in awe, hand trembling, fingers pressed deep inside of her, his cum dripping over her thighs. He had to concentrate to loosen his grip, and when he did, he dragged his release up her thigh and fed it into her.
Her moan was otherworldly. Her back arched, and she welcomed his touch with blind trust. “That’s me inside of you,” he whispered, stroking as deep as his fingers could fit.
Broken sobs filled the air. He withdrew his fingers and rubbed her sensitive bud, working every inch of his release into her skin.
When she came apart, her cries were raw and unashamed. The moment he tucked himself away, she opened her eyes and looked at him.
Not with pity. Not with disgust. Just warmth, soft and wondering, crinkling the corners of her eyes.
“Hi,” she said.
A broken laugh escaped him, the sound foreign to his own ears. “Hi.”
She bit her lip, color rising in her cheeks despite everything they’d just done.
He scooted closer, resting his head on her chest where she lovingly threaded her fingers through his hair. She didn’t grab or pull. She only stroked. Soothing and tender.
“You’re shaking,” she murmured.
“I know.”
“Is that okay?”
He turned to look at her. “I don’t know what this is,” he admitted. “But I don’t want it to stop.”
Cradling his head against her chest, she continued stroking his hair, and he closed his eyes.