Chapter 30 #2
Time drew out, delicious torture, while he worked her top off over her head, not deliberately playing with her breasts but brushing over them as if by coincidence and then chuckling when she whimpered. It might have been revenge for her own teasing before, a vengeance she was glad to let him take.
She did grin when he encountered the clasps of her bra, and she sat up to give him a hand. “Not used to women’s underwear?”
“Shockingly, no,” said Ligat, watching her with eyes like campfires on a dark night. Hazel wasn’t sure he blinked while she unhooked her bra and slipped it off, and he simply stared at her afterward.
It was flattering, arousing, and unnerving all at once.
Hazel glanced down at her breasts, more conscious of them than she’d been with any other lover—more conscious, maybe, than she’d been since she’d passed through puberty.
Half a dozen flippant questions came to mind.
Then Ligat moved at last, closing the distance between them again and tracing his tongue around one of Hazel’s nipples, and she didn’t want to ask any questions at all.
She had all the information she needed: It was in the hot, slow pressure of his mouth on her breasts, in the unexpectedly silky feeling of his hair between her fingers, in the skillful intrusion of his hand stroking up one of her thighs.
For once in her life, she didn’t need to know any more.
* * *
Naked below him, arching toward his touch and his tongue, Hazel was bliss and torment at the same time.
Ligat couldn’t remember ever having wanted a partner so much—he was fairly sure that the last time he’d been so achingly, drivingly hard had been in his school days, if even then—or feeling such a rising sense of urgency, and at the same time he’d never wanted less to give in to that need.
It was better to go slowly, now that he could.
Better to run his fingers over her thighs, firm beneath silky skin, while he teased her nipples with his lips until her breath was ragged.
When he reached the soft curls between her legs, he simply grazed over them at first. It took only a little pressure to feel how damp they’d become, and that knowledge alone made Ligat’s entire body tighten with delirious need, but he wouldn’t hurry.
The interlude with Hazel was an unexpected gift. Ligat didn’t see many carnal pleasures in his future. He didn’t see Hazel’s company at all—and his own continued existence would be damned bleak for it, literally.
So he took his time, trying to store each memory as vividly and firmly as he could: the low moans that came from Hazel’s parted lips as he stroked her open, the yielding warmth of her breasts, the slick heat of her passage around his fingers.
The smell of musk and salt overpowered the scent of her soap, and Ligat rejoiced in it.
“Patience,” he urged her as she flexed her hips, though the word came out breathless.
Hazel tried to glare at him, but her eyes were clouded with pleasure. “Easy—ah—” She gasped as Ligat moved his hand, a gentle rocking that nonetheless made her clench around his fingers. “—for you to say.”
“Oh, no. Not easy at all.” He allowed himself a moment to press forward, letting her feel the steely hardness of his cock against her thigh and the moisture gathered at the tip. “But worthwhile.”
The way she squirmed in response nearly snapped Ligat’s self-control.
He pulled back hurriedly, back and down to settle his face between her thighs.
She was as pretty there as everywhere else: rose-pink and wet, her clitoris a stiff little bud that he couldn’t resist licking almost immediately, forgetting plans to wait any further.
Hazel made a wordless, desperate sound in her throat at the contact, thrusting her hips up, and he was lost.
He would drive her over the edge before he was inside her. Anything more was asking too much.
And that didn’t take very long at all, once Ligat bent his head to his extremely enjoyable work.
He had no intention of trying to rush Hazel, and he started off exploring, savoring the taste of her, but her reactions very soon revealed the rhythm she craved.
Ligat gave it to her gladly, his only struggle not to rub his pulsing erection against the floor as Hazel’s body tensed and her moans turned into sharp cries.
Then she was rippling around his fingers, her moisture flooding over them, and he absolutely stopped giving a damn about the future.
Ligat slid up over Hazel, looking into her dazed eyes as he pushed the head of his cock against her. He barely managed to stop there. “Yes?” It was the only word he could think of.
“God, yes.”
She wrapped her legs around his, and he sank into her.
The aftershocks of her orgasm gripped his cock at every inch, exquisite caresses that drew a half strangled groan from him.
He held back as much as he could, wanting to feel more, but desire had become need, and he could more easily have stopped breathing than stayed still just then.
Hazel met him eagerly, joining in movement that started relatively slow and almost subtle, tilting her hips so that she was rubbing herself against Ligat with every thrust. Her short nails against his shoulders were a sharp note that danced just on the edge of pain and heightened his pleasure by contrast, and he returned the favor by leaning down to close his teeth lightly on her neck.
The sound she made in his ear was half moan, half gasp, and done entirely with abandon.
Ligat, braced on his elbows above her, could see her face flush as pleasure started building again.
This time he threw himself into the spiral with her, the winding braid of sensation where each of them sent the other higher in turn.
They rose on that momentum, on the sounds of wordless cries and the scent of sweat and sex, ecstasy that fed on itself in an unstoppable chain reaction.
Ligat felt the full force of Hazel’s climax grasping him this time and didn’t so much let go as lose his last tenuous hold, pouring himself into her in a series of deep thrusts.
The world outside went away completely. Even better, for a few seconds, he did too.