Chapter 23 #2
I cross to him on unsteady legs, turning my back as I lower myself between his thighs. His arms encircle me immediately, guiding me to lean back against his bare chest. The blanket follows, settling over us both as he tucks it around our bodies with deliberate care.
“Better?” His breath tickles my ear, warm against its shell.
I nod.
His skin is like a furnace against my back, radiating heat that seeps into my cold-stiffened muscles, and my shivering gradually subsides, replaced by a different kind of trembling as his fingers begin tracing idle patterns on my bare thigh.
The touch is feather-light, almost innocent, but it sends electricity racing up my spine.
“This okay?” His fingers continue their journey, tracing the curve of my elbow to the sensitive inside of my wrist where my pulse flutters like a trapped bird.
“Yes.” The word comes out breathier than intended.
I shift to get more comfortable, something hard pressing against my lower back, before my brain catches up and I freeze in the most uncomfortable position, heat rushing through my whole body.
Is this what I’m doing to him just by sitting here?
It’s certainly not a lamp.
His fingers freeze as well.
Is it wrong?
I should probably consider moving away, making some excuse about checking my clothes. But the cabin is cold, and he’s so warm, and something deeper, hungrier than survival instinct keeps me right where I am. In his arms.
“Is this okay?” I whisper, uncertain.
His chest rises with a deep breath against my back, and I feel a slight tremor in his fingers. “Perfect.”
The single word holds a universe of restraint I feel the unfamiliar urge to break. Instead of retreating, I settle more firmly against him, nestling back into the cradle of his body.
A groan vibrates through his chest, low and strained. Then he lifts his hand, trailing it across my collarbone with maddening slowness and up the column of my neck, each pass venturing a little closer to the edge of my towel.
My heartbeat accelerates, pounding so loudly I’m certain he must feel it reverberating through his chest. His other arm shifts around my waist, palm splaying flat against my stomach through the thin terry cloth, and I let my head drop back against his shoulder, exposing the vulnerable line of my throat.
For a moment, his hand stills, then continues its path, this time dipping beneath the edge of my towel. Just a whisper of callused fingertips against the swell of my breast.
A soft sound escapes my throat—half sigh, half desperate moan.
“Dakota.” His voice is rough gravel against my ear. “If you want me to stop, say it now.”
No.
I need more.
The words burn in my throat.
But I can’t voice them.
I answer by reaching for his hand and placing it firmly over my breast, the towel the only barrier between his palm and my aching skin. His fingers flex once before settling, cupping me more fully, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric.
I arch into his touch, shameless in my need.
“Fuck.” He tugs at the edge of the towel, and I don’t resist as it falls open, exposing my chest to the cooler air. His sharp intake of breath makes me feel powerful. “Beautiful.”
His hands cover both my breasts now, palms rough with calluses against my soft skin. The contrast makes me gasp, and certainly not his thumbs brushing over my nipples in feather-light circles until they harden into tight peaks.
His cock is a constant pressure, and the knowledge that he wants me—that this is affecting him as much as it’s affecting me—makes me bold. I shift my hips, rocking back against the rigid length of him.
He retaliates by pinching my nipples between thumb and forefinger, the sweet sting making me whimper and arch for more.
“Careful,” he groans, low and deep, then one large hand covers my mouth gently but firmly. I freeze, confused, until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “You need to be quiet for me. And although I’d love to hear you moan so desperately, sound is dangerous these days.”
I nod against his palm, my breath coming in hot puffs against his fingers.
“Good girl.” The praise sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
His other hand trails down my stomach, fingers skating over my ribs, the dip of my navel, until they reach the apex of my thighs.
I tense in anticipation, my legs parting involuntarily.
“And eager.” Amusement colors his words as his fingers find me wet and ready. “Already soaked.”
I moan against his palm, the sound muffled but still audible in the quiet cabin.
His fingers explore me slowly, circling my entrance, gathering the evidence of my arousal before finding my swollen clit.
The first direct touch makes me buck against him, pleasure shooting through my body like lightning.
“Easy.” He holds me firmly against the solid heat of his chest as his fingers continue their exquisite torment, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves but never quite giving me the pressure I crave. “I’ve got you.”
Finally, blessedly, one long finger dives inside me. I gasp against his hand, inner muscles clenching greedily around the intrusion that feels like heaven. He pumps slowly, letting me adjust, before adding a second finger.
I’m drowning in sensation, caught between his hand silencing my cries and his fingers claiming me, his erection insistently against my back, and feeling desired in a way I’ve never experienced before.
It makes my head spin.
“That’s it.” His voice holds a dark promise. “You like that?”
I can only nod frantically, grinding against his hand.
“How about this?” His fingers curl, finding a secret spot inside me that makes my vision blur and arch my back with a muffled cry. “Shh.”
But I’m making them anyway—desperate whimpers and gasps that vibrate against his palm. I should be embarrassed. Should be mortified that I’m falling apart like this, that I’m so desperate for his touch, I’m grinding against his hand like I’ve never been touched before.
Which, honestly? I haven’t. Not like this.
“Mmmh.” His voice vibrates through me. “You take my fingers so well.”
Heat floods my face as my body tightens around him. The praise shouldn’t work on me—I’m not that girl. Except apparently I am, because his words make everything more intense, more overwhelming.
He wrenches my head back with his hold on my mouth, scraping his teeth against my pulse point before closing his lips around it, sucking hard enough to leave a painfully delicious mark.
The pressure builds, coiling tighter in my core.
I’m close. So close I can taste it, feel it hovering just out of reach. I dig my nails into the muscle of his thighs as I chase the release he’s dangling in front of me like forbidden fruit.
“Please,” I try to say against his palm, the word coming out garbled. “More.”
He must understand because his thumb circles with just the right pressure while his fingers pump harder, faster. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside me fill the small space, obscene and perfect.
“Come for me,” he commands, voice rough with his own need. “Be my good girl and come all over my fingers.”
My body obeys as if it were made to follow his orders.
His hand clamps down harder on my mouth as I shatter completely, my body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me.
White light explodes behind my eyelids. My thighs shake uncontrollably.
He works me through it with devastating precision, murmuring encouragements that don’t register against my hair while I come apart in his arms.
When I finally stop trembling, I collapse boneless against him, head lolling into the crook of his neck.
He removes his hand from my mouth, letting me drag in desperate gulps of air, while his fingers still move lazily between my thighs, gentler now, drawing out aftershocks that make me twitch and whimper.
“Sensitive?” he asks, voice smug as I jerk against a particularly well-placed touch.
I’m too wrecked to form words. He withdraws his hand, and I immediately miss the feeling of fullness, scared he’ll leave. But he wraps the towel back around me with tender care before trapping us both with the blanket.
There were a few disappointing encounters that left me wondering what all the fuss was about. But this? This was different. Julien touched me as if he were memorizing every response, cataloging what makes me gasp, what makes me arch, what makes my thighs shake.
I twist slightly to look at him, embarrassment creeping in through the haze of satisfaction. His lips glisten with moisture—Did he…? The thought makes my core clench again.
He plants a soft kiss to my temple. “You okay?”
What do you say to someone after they’ve just shattered your world with their fingers?
“Thank you,” I whisper, then immediately want to die of mortification. Thank you? Really?
Julien laughs, the sound warm. “My pleasure. Liter—”
A howl pierces the night air, followed by another, closer this time. The haunting sound slices through our bubble of warmth, a stark reminder of the world outside.
His body tenses around me, all traces of relaxation vanishing. “Wolves.”
“Or dogs?” I clutch the towel tighter. “Strays?”
His eyes meet mine, serious now. “Let’s move to the bed.”