Chapter 30 #2
He chuckles into the side of my neck. “Motivational behaviors drive the activity in the hypothalamus. The four Fs. Fight, flight, feeding, and—” He fully cups my sex. “Fucking.”
I moan but try to turn it into something thoughtful sounding even as I grind helplessly against his hand. “I knew that once, I think. Biology was so long ago.”
Ian kisses down my chest. “We call it the stimmy. It comes after lifting heavy, the post-battle, fuck-like-Vikings-while-the-boat-is-on-fire sex. And when you come…” He eases his finger from me, his hand leaving my panties, moving to my waist, holding me in place.
“It’s like a goddamn freight train.” He draws my nipple into his mouth.
I arch involuntarily, my body demanding I hand myself over to the teeth and tongue at work against me.
I have the sudden presence of mind that I, too, have clever parts and snake my hand down his body, pressing the flat of my hand against his length.
His next breath sucks in between his teeth with a hiss that sends sparks across my sensitive nipple.
He lifts his head from me. “Bed,” he says, not asking, and holds me to his chest. Standing, wearing me once again, he walks the few feet to the bed, kissing me as he lays me onto the comforter.
He takes my hands, and my nails press into the back of his knuckles as he sweeps my hands over my head, claiming my mouth in a deep kiss.
I’m vaguely aware when he releases one hand, only to recapture it in the other, clasping my hands together against the mattress. He breaks the kiss.
“Stay,” he repeats, with a playful edge of reprimand, but it zings through me like physical contact; I do so enjoy Commanding Ian.
He takes his time backing off the bed, his hands trailing down my arms, over my breasts and sides, then pausing at the lace trim at the top of my thong.
His eyes meet mine in question, and at my nod, his fingers hook into the barely-there waistband, dragging the last shred of clothing from my body as he stands.
I let my knee fall to the side, eliciting a groan from him. I giggle because, delirious, horny wretch that I am, it occurs to me that I have opened myself up like a slutty little book and have defeated that shameless anthology abandoned on the floor.
Ian undoes his belt, making short work of his fly, and then his pants are down, the length of him straining against the confines of his navy boxer briefs. A moment later, he’s naked as well, and I am breathless.
His gray eyes roam over me, and I could feel self-conscious, but I can’t spare a thought for what he’s seeing because there is just so much of him to take in.
His massive chest heaves with exertion, his eyes stormy with lust. Observing him from below, exposed, a tendril of fear laces my desire.
Not a fear of him, not acknowledging an active threat, but an awareness of the power and scope confronting me.
He is so much. And I want all of him. I get to have all of him.
For now.
I have to brace against the shudder that rips through me at the thought. More than “now” feels too much like hope. And if the worst does happen, I’m not going to be another woman he has to watch fade. Now is what I have. Now has to be enough.
Ian’s brow wrinkles, concern shading the lust in his eyes. “You okay?”
I breathe in deeply, not minding when his eyes fall to my chest, briefly absorbed in the rise of my breasts. Desire burns through the remnants of his concern, turning my unwanted thoughts to ash.
“I am now. And I’m about to be a lot better.”
“Condom?” he rasps.
I tip my head toward my bedside table, and he reaches for it. I let my eyes drift to the ceiling as I listen to the telltale sound of a package being torn open, and then he’s above me again.
His fingers trail down the left side of my body, sending shockwaves over every inch of my skin.
When he gets to the inguinal ligament, he uses the slight channel to guide him to the apex of my thighs.
I whimper at the contact, his knuckles stroking my sex until I’m grinding against him, and he leans over to kiss me.
His fingers leave me, a new heat taking their place as he positions himself at my entrance.
“Slow,” I gasp, acknowledging the other catalyst for my earlier thrill of fear: the possibility of pain. The specter of experience looms over us, threatening to smother my desire. Just because my body is ready doesn’t mean it won’t betray me.
Ian’s eyes soften, still dark, but comprehending. He caresses my cheek, separating from me below. “We can stop. This doesn’t have to happen now—”
The reassurance extinguishes my fear. “Don’t you fucking dare. I need this. I need you.”
He blinks, half smirking in surprise, but he still sounds guarded when he asks, “You’ll tell me what you’re feeling?”
“Yes.” The single word is desperate. I arch my hips, and then he’s against me again, his expression cautious, jaw slackening just slightly as he begins to ease in.
I gasp, squeezing his forearms at the sensation of his entry. Holy hell…
“Ellie?”
“Good!” I assure him. “So, so good. Oh, Ian,” I pant. He’s still watching me, waiting for my go-ahead. “Yes. More.” I hook my heel behind his rear for emphasis, urging him farther in. “More.”
He continues with torturous slowness, rocking slightly, in and out, as my body molds to accommodate him.
I roll my hips in time with his, and the muscles of my sex clench and release, pulling him in deeper, my body betraying my impatience.
But he takes his time. He moves with the thoughtful confidence of a man who knows he needs to maneuver carefully.
And while my brain does produce the inconvenient realization that his is the kind of skill that requires practice to hone, I find that I have nothing but gratitude for every experience he’s had that has led him to this particular performance.
I leverage my hips to meet each thrust, and we fall into a rhythm, my pleasure heightening, the pressure building, climbing—
Pain, sharp and piercing, erupts behind my navel. I flinch, my nails digging into the back of his neck. Ian stills.
“Ellie?” He begins to withdraw.
I shake my head, forcing my fingers to relax as the pain subsides.
“Stay! Just…” It takes a moment to get my brain back to word making.
“It’s passing. It’s—” I breathe in slowly, allowing my lungs to fill, bearing down internally to maximize the pressure.
No pain. “It’s over.” I tell him. “Maybe… let me on top—”
I haven’t fully articulated the request before he’s shifted to accommodate it, holding me with one hand and rolling to his back without extracting himself.
I gasp, gripping his sides with my knees, then relax, allowing the full length of him into me.
We let out a sigh simultaneously, and I lean over to press my chest to his, needing a moment to adapt to being in a reality where I have access to an experience like this.
He runs his hands over my shoulders. “You’re okay?”
“Perfect,” I say, and then we’re moving again.
Within seconds, I’ve resumed my position at my peak, so, so close to losing myself.
“What do you need?” he insists.
“Press—” He knows exactly what I’m asking, pressing the flat of his palm into the space between my pubic bone and my belly button.
Everything around me stops. There’s only this moment as pleasure claims me, holding me in its grip as my climax washes over me. It’s as endless as the other times we’ve brought me here, but complete in a way I hadn’t known. Forget tasting colors. I’m manipulating time.
Somewhere in the void, I hear myself call his name, losing myself in the delight of it on my tongue.
Ian goes tense below me, and I fight to maintain my pace as a new crest appears on the horizon. “Ellie—” he rasps, gripping my hips.
I press a hand to the side of his face. “I want to hear you.”
He roars. It’s the sound I’ve been fantasizing about for more than a month, and I’m undone. I follow him into a second orgasm, and I’m giggling through it, because my God, this is nothing if not Vikings-fucking-while-the-ship-is-on-fire sex.
I collapse onto him, his arms tight around me, my face pressed into his damp chest. We lay there panting, for several seconds. Or minutes? What is time?
I smile. My right eye is fogged up.
“Holy shit,” I croak, and kiss Ian’s chest. “The stimmy rules.”
“Yeah, it does.” He gives me a squeeze, then laughs. “I hope Diego was wearing his headphones.”