Penny #3
I found myself in the posture he preferred, and I immediately understood why. I needed to see him. Needed to hold his gaze while he hooked one of my knees over his elbow and eased his oiled fingers toward my entrance.
Relax. I knew that. I’d often advised him to do the same.
But my only experiences in this position had been as a foolish teenager, rollicking in the hay loft with a partner who cared less for my comfort than his own satisfaction.
Imagining those sensations, rough and raw, kept me more tense than I should have been even though I knew Kit would never hurt me that way.
No amount of wanting this could rid me of thoughts of that.
So, I cringed and braced for pain as Kit prodded the tight ring of muscle.
“Penny,” he murmured, bending his body over me. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
At his command, I became aware of the burn in my chest and lightness in my head. I exhaled hard and fast at the same moment Kit’s finger slid in.
The intrusion was familiar and yet foreign. I’d done this. Often, before Kit and I became intimate. Had I forgotten it could feel good, too?
I groaned and shifted nearer to him, settling while he stared at the point where his finger entered me. Sparks of pleasure started slow, then built, flooding my mind and pushing out everything else.
I needed no further encouragement to give myself over, and Kit responded by adding a second finger as he worked rhythmically inside me.
When he pulled out, I gasped, and my eyes flew open. I looked down at him as he raised my other leg and pressed forward. His expression was focused and wild all at once. Hungry in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen. It drew me in, and I found myself pushing up on my arms, trying to get nearer.
Our eyes locked the moment before he breached my entrance. The stretch was more than his fingers had been, and I hissed at the sting.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Kit blanched and started to withdraw, but I grabbed his arm to steady him.
“No, don’t stop, just…”
With a prompting pull, he slid deeper, and my words were choked by a moan.
“Gods, Kit,” I stammered.
Kit flicked a glance between my face and where he was seated inside of me. “Okay?” he asked.
I nodded frantically. “Yes, just move, please… Kit, please.”
A nervous chuckle rumbled out of him, and he did what I asked.
My grip on his arm must have been bruising, but I couldn’t bring myself to relent as he thrust into me. Slowly at first, matching the pace of his carefully controlled breaths.
The pools of his eyes swelled with his arousal, and he panted out a few words. “Let me take care of you.”
His movements remained gentle and measured as his strokes grew deeper. It was a far cry from the bumbling efforts of my youth. This was smooth and so damn satisfying I could do little more than moan and relent to Kit’s efforts as my mind went blissfully blank.
I worked my palm slowly over my own length, timing my strokes to Kit’s thrusts. My eyes slid closed again, and, head thrown back, everything was Kit and me, moving in tandem.
Kit’s fingertips burrowed into my thighs, pulling me against his hips as they eased forward. Every repetition fueled the pleasure coursing through me, carrying me swiftly toward the peak of climax as the minutes wore on.
“Are you—” Kit puffed a labored breath. “Are you close?”
My groan proved answer enough, and I peeled an eye open to glimpse the focused scrunch of his face.
He was trying to last, so determined to satisfy me, and the sight gripped my heart.
I stroked myself harder, faster, and finally released his arm to grab his nape instead.
Hauling him forward, I nearly collapsed us both as I dragged him to my mouth and caught him with a kiss.
Kit whimpered against my lips, then spilled inside me. The heat of him had me whining, alternating kisses with nipping bites while I fisted over my erection. My release followed his, warm and wet between us.
I kept my hold on the back of his neck, pinning him to me. I kissed him through his panted breaths, savoring his skin and invading the wet warmth of his mouth.
When he finally eased back, I mourned the loss of fullness, of unity.
But still, I felt more tethered to him than I had in weeks.
I hadn’t realized how badly I needed him to make that advance.
To rebuild that connection. Assure me that even if I was never good enough for Cedric or Merrick, I was good enough for him.
He settled beside me, staying close and ghosting kisses across my shoulder and collarbone.
“We always do this backwards,” he mumbled against my skin.
I rolled my head to the side so I could meet his eyes. For the first time in weeks, there was a light in them. Humor, not guilt. The pressure of relieved tears built, but I blinked them away.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Take a bath first, and then get sticky.”
The smile that curled his mouth felt like a rare sight after weeks of mourning, and I couldn’t stop myself from devouring it in another desperate kiss.
He was chuckling when I pulled away.
“Two baths never hurt anyone,” I whispered against his lips.