Chapter 30 #2
She whimpered, his palm never breaking rhythm, as his fingers glided along her slit.
They ran up and down her folds, taking special care at the base.
Every muscle in her body was strung tight, tingling with awareness at the tantalizing pull of his intimate massage.
Her pleasure built unbearably, a feverish rush of tingles barreling towards erotic oblivion.
Then, at the last possible second, he released her, spun her to face him, and caught her before her legs could give way entirely.
Frankie’s breath came in ragged, urgent gasps, but Liam held her with an agonizing calm, as if he had all night and maybe the rest of his life, as he pushed his sweats down his legs and stepped out of them.
His lips curled in a satisfied grin, pushing her aggravation to new levels.
She wanted to curse him, but the words couldn’t get past the arousal choking her throat as he straightened and she saw his erection standing at attention.
Her mouth watered at the sight, and she heard herself whimper. Actually whimper.
“See something you like?” he asked, much too cocky for her liking.
In frustration, she lifted her hands to shove his chest, which was becoming something of a habit, but he caught her wrists and pinned them behind her back with one hand, the other gripped the back of her neck and cradled it, tilting it backwards.
She gasped at his ninja-fast move as his smirk disappeared when his mouth covered hers.
He kissed her—softly at first, his lips barely brushing along hers, before landing fully, hungrily, with the same fierce, controlled desperation she felt in every cell.
Frankie’s feet left the ground as he lifted her, effortlessly, and carried her the few steps toward the fireplace and lowered her down on the thick rug.
She sank into the plush softness as her eyes opened.
The room flickered gold and orange, but she couldn’t see anything but Liam above her—his savage eyes, the outline of his perfect mouth, and the frame of his broad shoulders.
Heat radiated from the hearth and from Liam in equal measure.
He knelt between her legs, parting them with both hands, and kissed slowly from her ankle up the inside of her calf, pausing to nip at the soft flesh behind her knee.
Frankie tried to stay still, but her body betrayed her, hips rising involuntarily, hands fisting in the rug.
He moved up her thigh, dragging his teeth lightly, then retraced his path down the other leg, making her wait, making her crazy.
By the time his mouth hovered just above her sex, she was trembling, every thought reduced to a primal ache low in her belly.
Liam’s eyes lifted to meet hers, holding her gaze as he kissed the crease of her hip, the sensitive skin at the top of her thigh, before once again moving to her core, his breath fanning over her folds damp with her arousal.
For a moment, he just looked at her—really looked at her, the way no one ever had.
Frankie wanted to make a joke, to say something irreverent to break the tension or speed things along, but her throat was too tight.
Instead, she surrendered, she let him do whatever he wanted, which was what she wanted, what she’d wanted for weeks, months, years, her entire life.
His lips curled in a knowing grin, and she wondered if he sensed her internal submission.
He turned his head and began to kiss the inside of her thigh again, the stubble on his jaw grazing her satin lips as he turned and kissed the other side, working his way closer and closer until he finally parted her with his thumb and licked a slow line from her entrance to her clit.
He stroked his tongue along her seam, impossibly light at first, teasing, then pressing harder as he learned the rhythm that made her gasp.
He circled her with his finger, then sucked her nub softly, and the combination sent her hips bucking off the floor as shocks of bliss exploded through her.
She buried her hand in his hair and let her head fall back onto the rug. The heat from the fireplace painted her skin in waves, but his tongue was fire as it lapped up and down her feminine flesh. He was relentless—he never stopped, never pulled away, just kept pushing her higher.
Frankie’s world dissolved around her until the only thing that existed was Liam.
The only reality was his tongue, his unhurried fingers, the sounds and sensations as he tasted and touched her.
He held her open, his thumbs spreading her just enough to expose every nerve, and he alternated between gentle licks and sharp, focused pressure that made her hips jerk off the floor.
He whispered praise into her, curses and promises, and the words buzzed in her ears as his breath heated her most sensitive skin.
He teased her mercilessly, never letting her crest, taking her right to the brink and then dragging her back again and again from the edge. His tongue and fingers magically working to bring her the most pleasure and the most torture simultaneously she’d ever experienced.
“Please,” she begged—she would never admit it, but she begged—“Please, please, please, Liam.”
It was when she said his name that he finally gave her what she craved, her orgasm ripped through her so violently she saw stars.
Her whole body arched, every muscle locked, and she thought she might burst into a million pieces, just splinter apart from the force of it.
Liam didn’t stop, he kept his mouth and fingers on her, working both to draw out her release, swallowing every spasm as tingling pleasure lashed through her, until she collapsed onto the rug, boneless and panting, her body thrumming with the afterglow as he pressed slow, reverent kisses along her stomach, then her breastbone, then her throat.
She was still catching her breath when he rolled onto his back and pulled her against him. When she lifted her head and gazed up at him, the look in his eyes was so open, so vulnerable, so unguarded, it caused her heart to swell.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Liam stated as if it was a fact like the sky was blue and grass was green, and this time, she didn’t want to argue.
Liam ran his hand up and down Frankie’s back, her hair falling over her face in a glossy curtain, the fire’s glow flickering over their tangled forms, while he waited for Frankie to respond to his statement that she was not going anywhere.
He wondered if she would say something snarky, make a joke, or just get up and leave to prove a point.
To his utter surprise, she reached up and gently touched his face, her palm pressed to his cheek as her thumb traced the line of his jaw.
Her touch was featherlight, but Liam felt it like a current pulling him out to sea.
The air was thick with the scent of sex and smoke from the fire and soap from the shower, an intoxicating cocktail he wanted to bottle and keep.
He’d lost track of how many times he’d imagined her like this, naked and flushed, eyes still glassy with pleasure, every line of her body highlighted in the soft, warm, flickering light from the fireplace.
The reality, as always, was so much better than he’d ever imagined.
But he knew he’d pushed his luck. There was a good chance she’d get up and leave.
His head had been up his ass the past week, and if she didn’t want anything to do with him, he couldn’t blame her.
He was grateful, at least, she’d allowed him to give her one last parting gift of pleasure, even if this was the end. For now. For tonight.
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she leaned up and pressed her lips to his and he exhaled in relief.
It wasn’t a verbal response, but she’d answered him.
Frankie kissed him, slow and deep. He tasted the salt of her skin and the tang of her arousal on his tongue as it mixed with her saliva, and something inside him snapped and broke wide open.
She pressed her body to his, her breasts soft against his side.
He traced her spine, memorizing each vertebra and the way she shivered as his fingertips grazed the small of her back, lower as he flexed over her firm ass cheeks and she moaned into his mouth.
He started to move, but she pushed against his chest and straddled him with a suddenness that stole his breath and shocked him.
Her inner thighs pressed against his hips as she sat proudly atop him.
His eyes travelled over the faint constellation of freckles sprinkled on her shoulders, down the swell of her perfect, beautifully formed, creamy breasts.
The sight of her, wild and hungry and beautifully unguarded, was almost too much.
For a man who prided himself on restraint, on being in control, he’d never felt so completely at someone else's mercy.
She ran her hands down his sides, her nails skating over his ribs, then lower past his abs.
He sucked in a breath as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, the touch both casual and devastatingly purposeful.
He felt himself surge in her grip, impossibly ready, and her eyes lifted to his as a smile spread on her face.
“Frankie,” he said her name in a warning.
“Shh,” she dismissed him as her hips lifted up and she lined his mushroom tip up to her sex, her thighs trembling as she positioned herself above him.
For a heartbeat, she hovered, her hand stroking him in gentle, greedy pulses, the head of his cock gliding slickly beneath her palm. She braced one hand on his chest, fingertips digging into his skin, and looked down, her eyes fixed on where their bodies would meet.
His heart beat erratically as carnal ache built in him. She took him in slow—so slow it bordered on torture. The first inch stole his breath, the heat and suction of her almost too much. Every muscle in his body locked, but he forced himself to stay still, to let her set the pace.