Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
Violet
My pulse is everywhere. It’s in my throat, in my fingertips, between my thighs. Heat is rolling off his body. Every inch of him is tension and restraint, and it only makes me want to unravel him more.
I tilt my head up and our eyes lock. His are darker now, heavy-lidded. His jaw is tight, too. My skin prickles with awareness as the air between us shifts. His hard length presses against my hip, and a bolt of heat twists low in my stomach. Every nerve in my body lights up, tuned only to him.
Something between a sigh and a whimper escapes me as I press my thighs together. I’m flushed everywhere. My skin feels too tight. I want his hands on me, more of him, even as my chest rises with nerves. I want him, but that guarded part of me needs time.
I shift against him, just…easing the pressure. A breath hitches in his throat, and his grip at my waist flexes.
“Violet…” he groans.
My heart stutters, then picks up, faster and louder than before. “I’m not ready for…just…not yet.”
He nods once. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But…” I whisper, dragging my fingertips down the hard line of his chest, stopping just above his waistband. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”
A deep groan rumbles from his chest as he leans into me, his mouth ghosting over my jaw and down my neck. “I’ve got you,” he breathes. “Whatever you want, however you want it, I’ve got you.”
His hand slides under the hem of my dress, skimming my thigh with maddening gentleness. I arch into him, gasping, greedy for all the ways he knows how to touch me. I might not be ready to give him everything, but tonight? I can let him give me this.
He slides his finger over the lace of my panties, his touch light but firm.
“Rowan…”
He groans again, the sound rumbling through his chest and settling between my legs. His lips find my jaw again, and he kisses me there, holding me close as he teases me with his fingers.
“Rowan,” I say again, voice rough with need. “I need…more.”
His response is immediate. A deep, searing kiss that melts into me like honey.
His stubble scratches at my lips, but all I care about is feeling him closer, deeper.
As if he can read my thoughts, his tongue dives into my mouth, and his body presses even closer to mine until there’s no space between us at all.
His fingers slip beneath the lace, finding me slick and ready. A strangled sound escapes him as he explores me with gentle strokes.
“Jesus, Violet,” he exhales against my lips. “You’re so wet for me.”
I gasp as his fingers circle my clit, my hips lifting instinctively to meet his touch.
“I’ve thought about this,” he confesses. “God, Violet, I’ve thought about touching you like this for so long.”
My hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. He watches my face with an intensity that should make me self-conscious but instead only heightens everything I’m feeling.
“You’re so beautiful,” he praises, his fingers finding a rhythm that has me writhing.
“So perfect. I fuck my own hand thinking about you and how you’d sound, how you’d taste, how you’d fall apart for me.
I get myself so close, then stop to make it last, just to keep you in my head a little longer.
And now…” His free hand slips up, cupping my jaw and forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Now all I want is to make you come so hard you forget anyone else ever touched you.”
I shudder at the raw honesty in his voice.
My hands drift up to his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble as I draw him closer, needing him.
I want to crawl into his skin, to be closer than is humanly possible, to see if all this hunger can knit together the parts of me that split wide open when he left.
“Please,” I whisper. I am not above begging if it means he’ll keep touching me like this.
He buries his face in my neck, sucking lightly just beside my pulse. The sensation sends another wild shock through me. “I need you louder, Larkin.”
A broken laugh escapes me. “You’re going to get us arrested with the windows open.”
He slides a finger inside of me, and I forget how to breathe. “Let the whole goddamn county hear.”
I rock against him. His palm presses just right, and my head falls back against the couch.
I’m trembling now, my thighs tightening as I chase the release that’s just a heartbeat away.
I try to hold it, I really do. But I’m wound too tight and starving for more and more until I snap.
My orgasm crashes over me so hard I cry out, clapping my hand over my mouth at the last second.
My body shakes, legs locked around Rowan’s waist, every muscle seizing and then dissolving into a floating euphoria I’ve never felt before.
He doesn’t stop until I’m limp and half melted into the cushion beneath me. His arm winds around my waist, holding me together, and his lips find my temple before trailing to my mouth.
When I finally come back to myself, I can’t help but laugh. My whole body is tingling.
Rowan’s still pressed up against me, his own breathing ragged now, his forehead resting on mine.
“That was…” I breathe, unable to find the words.
He kisses me softly. “Just the beginning.”
He catches my wrist just as I begin to reach for his rigid length. “You don’t have to.”
I shake my head. “I want to.”
He hesitates for just a second before his hand falls away in surrender. I work the button of his jeans and ease down the zipper, savoring his sharp intake of breath and the way his muscles tense under my touch.
“Can I…?” I whisper, my fingers hovering at the waistband of his boxers.
He nods, eyes never leaving mine. “Fuck, Violet. Anything you want.”
I slide the fabric down his thighs and wrap my fingers around him.
He’s hard and thick and impossibly smooth in my palm, and the groan that tears from his throat sends a thrill through me.
I’ve never seen Rowan Wolfe like this, with his head tipped back and his breath coming in ragged pulls. It’s intoxicating.
I watch his face, memorizing every expression. The way his jaw tightens, how his lips part with each breath, the flutter of his eyelashes when I change my rhythm.
His hips buck slightly as my thumb circles the sensitive tip. “Violet,” he moans, his voice strained.
My heart races as I meet his eyes, finding courage in his gaze.
“I want to…” My voice trails off, cheeks flushing with heat. I’ve never done this before, but right now, with him, I want everything.
His brow furrows, noticing my hesitation. “Violet, you don’t have to—”
“I want to taste you,” I whisper, the confession making me tremble. “I’ve just never…”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by something darker, hungrier. His hand cups my cheek, thumb dragging against my lower lip.
“Are you sure?”
I nod, already shifting down. He adjusts, sliding until he’s flat on his back, and I find myself straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs.
“Show me how?”
“Just go slow,” he murmurs. “You can stop anytime.”
I brace my hands on his thighs, relishing the hard muscle tensing beneath my fingers. I lower myself, heart thrumming, and take him in my hand again. He pulses in my grip. I stroke him a few times, watching as his hips flex, forcing him deeper into my hand.
I lean down to kiss the tip, savoring the heady taste of him.
The contact makes him twitch, a curse muttered under his breath.
I ease down farther, taking him past my lips, slow and careful, letting him fill my mouth inch by inch.
I hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue the way I think might feel good.
His hand moves to grip hair, not controlling, just guiding.
“Just like that,” he breathes, watching me with hooded eyes.
I grow bolder, taking him deeper, learning his body through every gasp and tensed muscle. His direction is gentle—a soft tug of hair when I find a rhythm he likes, whispered praise that makes me flush with pride.
“God, Violet,” he groans, his head falling back. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice spurs me on. I hollow my cheeks around him, relishing the way his thickness fills my mouth.
I try to take him deeper, but his size is overwhelming. My throat constricts and my eyes water, but the moan that falls from his lips tells me I’m doing something right.
His hand slides to my cheek. “Breathe, baby,” Rowan murmurs. “Take your time.”
I do, drawing in a shaky breath as I let him slip out, my lips glistening. I glance up to find him watching me, pupils blown wide. He looks utterly wrecked.
“Your mouth was made for my cock,” he says, his thumb smoothing across my lower lip.
The praise makes me bold. I lick him from base to tip, circling the head with my tongue, tasting the salt and heat of him.
His hand fists the cushion, veins standing out in his arm.
I take him in again, deeper this time, and flatten my tongue under the weight of him.
His hips jerk up before he holds himself back.
“Easy, Larkin,” he warns. “You’re gonna make me lose it.”
I moan, heat rolling through me, and when I lift my eyes through my lashes, his answering groan is all warning.
Suddenly, his hands move and his fingers tangle into my hair, palms pressing against my cheeks. He tilts my head up just enough to control the pace.
His voice drops even lower, rougher. “Violet, if you don’t want my cum down your throat, you need to tap my thigh right now. Because I’m close. So fucking close.”
Every word lands like a shock to my system. I’m dizzy with want. I don’t stop. I suck him harder, swirl my tongue, and he arches into my mouth, cursing under his breath.
“Fuck, baby,” he grits out. “You want it? You want to swallow me?”