Chapter Twelve #5
He moved with torturous languidity, driving the wild, frenzied pulse of pleasure higher.
His lips explored her thigh, drawing ever closer to where her body craved.
She resisted the urge to thread her fingers through his hair and steer him where she needed.
Not that she could have reached his head under her dress. But her moans were becoming growls.
He continued his pace, undeterred, until he reached her center, and peppered her with slow, open-mouthed kisses, drenching her until her cotton drawers molded to her skin.
The heady mix of their position, the thrill of the window, and—she may have to concede expert—pace stoked her ardor into a frenzied blaze so that when his tongue finally reached the bare, exposed core of her, cutting her firmly in half before fixating on the over-sensitive peak of her pleasure, she had cried out loud enough to draw gazes from inside the ballroom.
“Oh gods.” Sera fought to hold herself together.
She wanted to squirm and writhe and move her hips.
He started to pleasure her more thoroughly, no more teasing or slow exploration, but just the right blend of blind enthusiasm and purposeful reverence.
He matched the pace of the music filtering through the window—and Sera would bet anything he played an instrument.
If he played half as well as he delivered pleasure, then he was wasted as a politician.
The leg she was using to balance herself began to tremble.
He steadied her with his hands, fingers digging into her for the best leverage to keep her from melting to the ground.
Her hips started to roll, seeking and meeting where she wanted to feel him and he followed her lead with rapt devotion.
It had never felt like this, not on her best day had she been pleasured like her release was not only required, but would be measured and any mark below mind-blowing would not be tolerated.
She breathed nonsense words and praise and moans, murmurs of unrestricted thought while the orgasm building inside her threatened to tear her apart.
Building and then all at once, overwhelming.
Sera’s entire body contracted, fissures of bliss electrifying her every nerve.
Wave after wave rolling through her until she was ready to collapse.
Kieran started to pull away after her body quieted, easing her leg down.
Sera braced on the window, only distantly aware as he disentangled from her skirt and returned to his feet.
The past crept up on her as she absently waited for the other shoe to drop. She was so completely satisfied that her brain was just as gelatin as her body, and ingrained response started to prepare her for the worst. The lingering sensation of pleasure became dark weights of dread.
She waited. Waited for him to insist that she owed him now. Waiting for him to pull her to the ground and demand his turn. Waiting… waiting… waiting for something bad to happen. Sera shuddered, closing in on herself.
Because whenever she felt good, something bad always followed.
Kieran’s hand settled gently on her shoulder and she flinched. She jerked away from his touch, not quite blocking him from reaching her, but posing herself in a way that would incur the least amount of damage.
He didn’t attempt to touch her again, instead taking a step back. “Are you alright?” The genuine, unfiltered concern in his voice shattered the haze in her brain.
Reality rushed back. Her senses regained. She looked into Kieran’s eyes and hated the concern and guilt and fear she found. Instantly, her rioting panic subsided. She was safe. She was always safe with Kieran.
She was madly in love with him.
Sera rushed forward and threw her arms around him so hard she knocked the wind from him.
She could tell because her leap was followed by a gentle ‘oof’ as her arms closed around his shoulders and she held him.
Sera didn’t hug people often. Not even Gideon or Seth.
And she hugged Kieran with no ulterior motive, not out of fear or trauma.
There was no hidden lust in the gesture, just something pure and real that she couldn’t quite name in the chaos of the moment.
And he hesitated only a second before putting his arms around her and holding her just as she had always longed to be held.
Kieran planned to maintain distance for as long as she required.
He had seen the genuine fear in her movements just now, and while he might never fully understand what sort of pain could cause such a response, he refused to add to it.
He had stepped away, allowed her the space to process.
Because even though he ached to touch and feel, to continue to bask in the warmth of her, he was not a monster.
Then she had hugged him and it was somehow worse and better than anything else.
Sex and lust he could grasp. Even sworn to remain alone he’d found the odd moment to let go when he was in college.
Yes, it was harder to find the time or ability as he got older, but he still understood physical urges and how to control them.
The purity of her arms over his shoulders, the probing emotion of her clinging to his chest, aligned with emotion he had not felt since he was a child.
Comfort and serenity.
He was far past caring for Sera, though he still refused to dwell too long on just how far. None of that mattered when she was in his arms.
She pulled back, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was in my own head and you just felt—I mean wow. You were—”
“No apology necessary. I would hope that you understand you are quite safe to feel however you wish around me.”
She smiled and her cheeks pinched the tears free. “I know this is my very first ball, but… can we go home?”
He felt an answering smile on his lips, the gesture still somewhat unfamiliar. “I have been ready to leave since we got here.”
“Then perfect, we can get our things and go. Because I think it’s only fair not to let you have all the fun.” She dropped a quick kiss against his cheek and then released him. She looked up with a cheeky grin. “Oh please, like you don’t throw lines like that at me constantly.”
Kieran swallowed, debating. On the one hand, he was in no hurry to push Sera past her limits. She clearly harbored great pain regarding sex and her treatment during. On the other, it was Sera’s suggestion. And he was tired of making the prudent choice.
He threaded his fingers with hers and raced for the exit.