Chapter 25
Vanessa
twenty-five
. . .
My fingers dig into his scalp, twisting his wavy hair. Beneath the longer strands, the sides are shaved, and the sharp texture change sends prickles of pleasure to my core.
Sven breaks the kiss. Before I can so much as blink, he scoops me up over his shoulder. His hand on my ass, he starts up the stairs.
Letting out a laugh, I smack his ass, and I’m rewarded by a soft pant rumbling from his mouth.
The last time I was here, I didn’t get to see his room. Now, upside down, I like what I can see. It’s the same dark flooring and light walls, and in the darkness, I can make out some plants without much detail. He slaps on a lamp and the room floods with warm, golden light.
Sven deposits me on the edge of the bed. Before I can so much as blink, he’s on his knees before me, staring up at me with heat in his green eyes.
I cup his cheek, and he leans into the contact, brushing his stubbly jaw against my skin as he turns to place a kiss in the center of my palm.
“The last time we were together…” His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat. “You took care of me. You made me feel seen. Wanted. I’d never experienced that before, and since then…”
I don’t want to hear about whatever’s happened since then. I don’t want to know about the other women who came before me.
“Everything I’ve wanted centered around this, around us,” he says. “I’ve been searching for nine years, trying to recreate that same feeling.”
I swallow. “And? How is this measuring up to your fantasy?”
“It’s pretty great,” he says, his eyes on mine.
“Oh? Only pretty great?”
“Well, it could be better.”
He traces a figure eight on the inside of my knee. The feel of his warm skin on mine, even separated by the thin layer of my tights, sends lightning bolts of lust through me.
Chemistry is a powerful drug. I’ve wanted plenty of guys before. I’ve been interested.
But I’ve never had someone gazing back at me like he does, molten honey and desire clearly etched across his features.
I raise my eyebrows. “How could it be better?”
“Well, I’d quite like to bury my face in your cunt,” he says.
A sharp bolt of lust ricochets through me. The sweet, polite contrast of his request and his naughty words are as enticing as he is.
“Is that acceptable to you?” he asks.
I’m unable to do much more than nod, and his half-smirk turns into a full, genuine smile.
Sven sits back on his heels, and to my surprise, he takes my ankle in his hands. With deft, delicate fingers, he unbuckles the thin straps of my heel, pulling the shoe away and running his thumb up the arch of my foot before he turns his attention to the other shoe, doing the same.
My hands shift under my dress, reaching for the waistband of my tights.
Rising above me, Sven scoops me up again and places me at the center of the bed, so my head rests on his pillows. He catches my hand and covers it with his.
Together, we pull down my tights, and as he peels them off my legs, a heady dose of want courses through me. His thumb trails over my center, over my panties. My hips tilt up and a soft whimper bursts from my lips. I need more.
“You’re good?” He checks in, his eyes rising to mine.
Nodding eagerly, I try to spread my legs for him.
But he shakes his head.
Our first time together, I definitely took the lead, so I’m not expecting him to flip me around onto my hands and knees. I arch back against him.
His fingertips sketch the column of my spine, the skin exposed by the dress erupting into goosebumps. My hair tumbles over my shoulder as I look back at him.
“Like what you see?”
His eyes are dark when they meet mine.
“Yes,” he states definitively. His eyes flutter shut and he tightens his hands on my hips. “Yes.”
“I’m yours,” I tell him.
Hiking up the bottom of my dress over my ass, Sven peels my panties down—but only a little bit. The elastic constricting my thighs means I can’t spread my legs as far as I’d like.
Cool air hits my exposed pussy. It does nothing to cool me down.
I look over my shoulder again. He’s staring at me, want plain on his face. His thumb brushes over my center, trailing through the wetness. It’s not enough. I need more.
My heart hammers in my chest. This is more than just sex to him. He has feelings for me, real feelings, and has for some time. How do we do this?
The first press of his hot, wet tongue to my core makes me yelp. Sven tightens his hands on my hips and tilts his head, applying more pressure right below my clit. Unabashed, I push my hips back into his face.
His groan vibrates through me. He shifts, spreading me, opening me up for him. Before I can think too much about how utterly exposed I feel, Sven dives back in, licking at me with strong, steady pressure.
The soft prickle of his facial hair sparks little lightning bolts of sensation between my legs.
The grip of his fingers around my thigh just might leave faint bruises tomorrow.
And the noises he makes are obscene. And so fucking sexy.
As his fingers trace my seam, I push my hips back again, asking for more. He slips one finger inside of me, slow and steady.
It’s good. I like it.
But I need more.
And as he adds a second finger, twisting and scissoring, I know that I can trust him to give me what I want. What I need.
His tongue laves over my clit, sucking at me with far more finesse than he had nine years ago. The thick press of his fingers pumping inside of me has me clenching around him. Everything inside of me stretches tight and taut. I’m a shard of glass about to shatter.
But I trust him. He’ll put me back together.
As I start to splinter, his hand on my hip keeps me tethered to this plane of existence. The pleasure bursts within me, my entire being imploding in the best way possible. I come with a cry.
But Sven is there. He doesn’t stop. His fingers keep the same rhythm, his mouth keeps the same pressure, giving me exactly what I need.
It’s too much. My arms give out and I start to collapse to the bed.
He slides his arm around to my shoulder, steadying me. I take the support he gives so effortlessly. He pulls his fingers out of me, and before I can think about how empty I feel, he lays me out on the bed, letting me crash onto the pillows.
He collapses beside me. His hand settles on my lower back, just above the top of my dress.
Pillowing my head on my arms, I turn to face him. He’s wearing a pleased expression, his beard glistening from… me.
I swallow. Emotions I can’t identify bubble up within me. I’m not ready for them.
I don’t?—
I can’t?—
Sven rubs my lower back. The heavy weight of his warm palm on my skin keeps the emotions at bay. His green eyes are kind as he takes me in, no doubt cataloging my messy hair and the bags under my eyes and makeup smeared across my face.
He’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. And for the first time, I feel like it might actually be possible.
Before I can second-guess myself, I launch myself at him, burrowing into his side. My arm slings over his belly, my leg over his as I cling to him. Tears come to my eyes. I blink a few times to hide my reaction. Some of the wetness seeps out of the corner of my eyes, and I press my face deeper into his chest. His scent surrounds me, spicy and fresh with a hint of musk.
He holds me.
He holds me, and he lets me feel my feelings, and he doesn’t try to push me along. He’s so patient with me—in this, in everything he does.
I come back to myself slowly.
I’m aware of the scratchy material of his waistcoat beneath my cheek. The buttons are pressed along the ridge of my nose, and that’s not very comfortable. My dress is twisted all around me, my panties pulled down along my thighs, and I’m wet—very wet.
But it’s his hand on my exposed back, roving up and down my spine with a careful caress. It’s the expansion of his chest beneath my cheek with every breath he takes. It’s the solid planes of his body wrapped around mine, my leg between his, my arm over his belly.
It’s the physical sensations that I recognize first.
I almost don’t realize how safe I feel. How comfortable. This man brought me to tears with the tender, thorough way he loved me.
Loves me.
And for the first time… I start to think that maybe, I can love him, too.