Chapter 33
Elowen
The next time I drift down from the high, he’s licking the marks he left on my thigh. I lift my head to look, there are marks, dark against my skin. I let my head fall back again.
His soft licks still send tremors through me. But I don’t have the energy to stop him.
He gathers my legs, draping them to one side, and lifts me, cradling me back in his lap. A groan rumbles in his throat when I settle against the hard length of him.
I’ll give him his pleasure, I promise myself, once I’ve surfaced from mine. It’s still rippling through me in small, fading waves.
He presses a kiss to my lips, watching my dazed state with heated eyes.
“Where did you learn this?” He’s never been with anyone before.
“You liked it?”
I chuckle. “Can’t you tell?”
He smiles. “I’m still learning. Can’t be too sure.”
“Well, you’re an excellent learner.” I grin. “How much have you learned so far?”
“Just read a few papers. On how to make you feel good.”
“You read research papers for this?” I stare at him, shocked.
He nods, utterly serious.
I laugh, my head falling back. He kisses my throat. I gasp, my head snapping forward again.
“No one reads research papers for this, Salvario.” The words tumble out between laughs.
“Then how do they learn?” He frowns, genuinely perplexed.
“Fuck around and find out.”
His frown deepens. “That’s inefficient.”
“Forget everyone else. Tell me about you.” I trace the contours of his chiseled jaw. “What did you learn about your own pleasure? I could use some of that knowledge.”
“Nothing.” He says it like the answer should be obvious.
“What do you mean, nothing? There has to be something you find worth exploring.”
“Everything I read was worth exploring. All the ways of making you come.”
“You didn’t read anything about what men like?”
“Why would I do that? You’re not a man,” he grumbles.
I chuckle, pinching his grumpy cheeks. “Alright, I get it. You don’t read about your own pleasure. Only mine. But there must be things you imagine. Things you do while getting off.”
“I don’t do that. There are things that turn me on—watching you naked, imagining you naked, thinking about what I’d do to you, but it doesn’t lead to getting off.”
I frown, climbing off his lap. “You mean you don’t... masturbate?”
He shrugs. “I tried a few times while you were there. You made me crazy.”
I nod. “Ummhmm,” I say seriously, but it’s just a made-up exterior, hiding how good his words sound to me. He’s being so serious—I shouldn’t be aroused by this. But I can’t help it.
“But I can’t finish.”
“Why?”
“I have anaphrodisia.”
My lips part. The familiar clenching returns to my stomach. It’s because of his trauma. His haphephobia stems from it as well. Now, both make sense.
I breathe deep, forcing down the lump in my throat. I need to stop crying over everything. If I keep doing that, I’ll become a burden. He’s carrying enough already, adding more would be the cruelest thing I could do.
I place my hands on his chest. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
He nods.
“Can I take off your shirt?”
He hesitates, then nods, his jaw clenched.
I unbutton it slowly, revealing his chest. There are patches where the skin seems to have been removed. They must have a painful story, but I won’t ask him today.
His broad shoulders and chest, thick biceps, and taut abs come into full view. Now completely naked, he looks like a sculpted masterpiece from head to toe.
I trail my fingers over the ridges of his stomach, down the V, toward his length. It twitches with every inch I cover.
I’ve never seen a dick in my life, but I know very well what can be done with one. If even half of what I’ve read is true, I can make him feel good.
And if I fail today? Then I’ll do what he did. I’ll study.
I circle the base with my fingers. Veins ridge against my skin—thick, prominent, like it might burst. I look up at the handsome face of my man, and it clearly looks like the face of a man whose dick is about to explode.
I hold the base lightly, my fingers and thumb not touching my palm yet—four fingers on one side, thumb on the other—and move a featherlight touch from base to tip, feeling every veined texture.
His whole body locks up as I reach the tip. I look up at his face. His jaw is clenched so tight I’m afraid it might crack. His breath has gone staggered. I can feel a gush of fluid coming from me, soaking my well-licked, thoroughly pleased cleft.
“You like that?” My voice comes out thin, strained.
He nods rigidly.
I smile and repeat the same motion, sliding from the now-leaking tip down to the base, then back up again.
A throaty groan vibrates out of him. His head falls back, baring the length of his throat.
I settle onto his thighs, straddling him, my center pressing against the base of his length. His hands find my hips the moment I’m settled, then slide lower, gripping.
I release him and trail my hands up—over his stomach, his chest—until they come to rest on his shoulders.
I shift closer. The base of him presses against my clit, and I hum in pleasure, biting my lower lip.
His gaze rakes over me—from my face to where we’re pressed together. Lust has sharpened his features, made him even more beautiful.
I rock my clit against him, up and down. His eyes droop halfway. His lips part.
I press kisses along his neck, over his earlobe, along his jaw, and finally, his mouth. I lift myself slowly. He positions himself at my entrance. I push down, slowly.
The pain is still there, as sharp as the first time. Our mouths part. Our mouths separate. I press my forehead to his, breathing through the pain. It subsides when he’s fully seated inside me.
“Are you okay?” His voice is rough.
I hum. “You?”
“Too good. Your pussy is so wet. So warm.”
I pull back to look at him, amused. “Are you dirty talking right now?”
His lips quirk into a lazy smile. “Just stating facts.”
I lift myself, taking him partway out, then sink back down onto him. His eyes close. The pain has faded quickly, replaced by a fullness that feels incredible.
I do it again, taking more of him each time. After few strokes, I still.
“Your turn.” I whisper it against his mouth.
His grip tightens on my ass. He lifts me, then slams up into me. A loud moan spills from my lips as more of my wetness coats him. I can feel myself dripping onto him.
He thrusts again. And again. I start moving with him, matching his rhythm, his force. The room fills with sound—skin meeting skin, the wet rhythm of us, our moans tangled together. I just hope it doesn’t reach my phone.
We quicken, chasing release together, and with loud, ragged groans, we both shatter. He hugs me tightly, his body shaking against my shuddering one.
We stay like that for a long time, catching our breath, tangled in each other’s heat and sweat.
“That was really good.” I murmur it against his shoulder, still breathless.
“Is that feedback?” He sounds amused.
I chuckle. “You can take it as that.”
He presses a kiss to my neck. “I love you.”
I pull back and kiss him. “I love you, too.”
I shift up slowly. His length slips out of me, and a flood of cum follows. I scramble off the bed, even though my legs are shaking. The cum is not stopping. A thick trail is sliding down my thigh. I stare, wide-eyed.
“Have you emptied a century’s worth of stored-up stuff?” I ask without looking at him, my eyes fixed on the thick liquid pumping from me.
“Decades’ worth of stored-up stuff.”
My head snaps up. “You’ve never come before in your life?”
He shakes his head, sliding off the bed.
I come out of my shock. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve never masturbated or had sex.”
He lifts me into his arms. I lock mine around his neck.
“Am I getting aftercare now?” I ask, grinning.
He smiles. “It was listed as essential. For convincing a woman to come back.”
I laugh, the sound echoes off the bathroom tiles.
He lowers me into the tub, then turns on the warm water. The water begins to rise as he reaches for the showerhead, turns it on, and settles into the tub facing me. Then he starts cleaning me—between my legs, gentle and thorough.
He parts me with his fingers, stroking slowly through my folds. A sweet pulse of pleasure flickers inside me. I grip the edges of the tub.
“You don’t have to—” I gasp as his finger finds a spot that makes my mind blank. “—clean that thoroughly.”
He looks up, sets the showerhead aside, and lowers his mouth to my center.
“Salvario—” His name breaks on a moan as he suck my clit. “I can’t…”
I’ve already had three orgasms, and that’s a big deal for a virgin who’s never had any before in her life.
“No—” I moan, but he doesn’t stop.
My head falls back. My cries fill the bathroom. The water has risen. His face is submerged now. I try to pull him up, but he doesn’t move. If anything, he pulls me closer and sucks harder.
Fear that he’ll breathe in water collides with unbearable pleasure and explodes behind my eyes. I cry out as the orgasm blinds me.
Only then does he surface, dragging a hand over his face to clear the water.
“You’re a horrible man, Salvario De Falco.” I sigh.
“Can’t help it, princess.” He settles in beside me, voice low. “You unleash the monster.”
I nestle into him as he wraps an arm around me.
“You’ve always been a monster. Now you’re my monster.”
He catches my chin and tilts my face up to his.
“Your monster.” He seals the words with a kiss, though I can’t fully savor it as my body succumbs to sweet oblivion.