Chapter 6 #2
Then he blew a gust of air over my nipple, so sensitive after his attention.
“Oh, God,” I exhaled, throwing my head back, locking my fingers in his hair with desperation.
Ironside gave a low laugh. And the throb between my thighs became an ache of torture.
He moved to my other breast, administering the same treatment until I squirmed with a needy whine.
“Touch me,” I gasped. “Please.”
Ironside lifted his head to meet my gaze.
He was already clearly touching me. With one hand cradling my waist, and the other resting just beneath my breast. This man’s hands were all over me.
But I didn’t mean that kind of touching and I could tell he understood what I meant by the look in his eyes.
Biting my lower lip, I spread my legs wider in a silent plea. Ironside tilted his head.
“You’ll have to be specific about the kind of touching you want me to do, petal. Because I could spend all day on your gorgeous tits or these thick thighs or—”
I huffed with frustration.
“Reuben. Inside me. I want you inside me.”
Ironside arched an eyebrow with a look that made my stomach somersault and my blush bloom down my chest.
I knew what I was asking. I really wanted to try. Even if it meant I might fail, I still wanted to try with him.
“My name sounds good on your lips,” he said. “Especially when you’re begging.”
Holding my gaze, Ironside reached out and grabbed the chair with his cut. He slid it closer, settling into it like a man sitting down for a three course meal. Prepared to eat his fill and feast.
My heart surged into my throat as I watched him peel my panties off. Cool air fanned across my pussy, exposed.
Ironside hooked his shoulders under my knees, spreading me open further for him. He curled his hand over one thigh, smoothing back and forth with reassurance.
“Are you sure?” he asked, so soft, so quiet that I almost missed it.
I nodded.
“More than anything. Just…be gentle with me?”
“Always,” Ironside murmured as he kissed the inside of my knee.
I focused on breathing steadily as he stroked and circled my clit, coaxing that fire in my belly to get even hotter.
The one and only time I ever reached this stage with a man, I had spent far more time preparing beforehand. Using the set of dilators I had at home. Warming myself up. Stretching myself open. Running through all the methods my physical therapist taught me to loosen up and relax.
And that one time had been a disaster. I was so tight, so painful, that he couldn’t even get one finger inside me, let alone two.
Ironside glanced up at me as he sucked two fingers in his mouth, coating them with his saliva, before rubbing lightly at my entrance.
“Poppies,” he said.
I frowned, confused.
“What?”
“Poppies,” he repeated, nodding to a cluster of yellow and orange poppies on the shelf. “That’s your safe word. If it hurts, if you’re not feeling it, or if you want to stop for any reason, you say poppies. Can you remember that?”
I nodded. He flicked his eyebrows up, waiting for my verbal confirmation. Waiting for me to use my words.
“Poppies,” I echoed. “Got it.”
“Good girl,” he murmured.
Then I felt the pressure of his fingertip pushing into me. Slowly. Easing in. My thighs flinched at the sting of pain.
Ironside’s gaze bored into mine as he paused, waiting while my walls fluttered around his finger. He was only inside my pussy by less than an inch and it was agony.
Frustration and desire warred in my chest.
I wanted more.
But my body said no.
“Lena,” Ironside said, firm, commanding.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
“Does it hurt?”
I said nothing and shifted my gaze up to the ceiling, blinking rapidly so I didn’t cry. Ironside remained quiet, but he didn’t move either. Waiting for me to gather myself. Waiting for me to look at him again.
When I finally dragged my gaze down to meet his eyes, I feared what I would see there.
Annoyance. Judgment. Impatience.
Instead, I saw the same adoration and desire and want that I’d always seen in his gaze since the moment we first met.
Did you really think I would dump a pretty little thing like you just because you need to be handled with a bit more care and attention?
Ironside wasn’t going anywhere.
“Try again,” I said.
He slid his chair even closer, placing his palm against my lower belly and rubbing my clit with his thumb.
The sheer determination in the set of his shoulders and every angle of his body, the laser focused look in his eyes made me wish more than anything that I could just climb into his lap, sink down on his cock, and ride him hard.
But I couldn’t.
Why was fate this cruel? To give me an attentive, dominant older man oozing with sex appeal, while my vagina remained locked up so tight that he couldn’t even finger me.
“Are you still with me, petal?”
Ironside’s voice pulled me out of my own head and focused back on him.
“Yes,” I said, confident in my decision. “Please. Try again.”
Ironside skimmed his knuckles along my inner thigh before stroking my pussy and pressing in again.
I bit the inside of my cheek and closed my eyes. Trying to relax. Trying to enjoy it. Trying to will the pain to go away. Trying…
“Poppies,” I sobbed.
Instantly, Ironside stopped. He looped his arms around me, sliding me off the table and into his lap.
“Come here.”
I burrowed into his shoulder with mortification. My body ached for release, and the longing to have him inside me was still there. But I couldn’t satisfy it.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
Ironside cradled the back of my head in his palm, holding me tightly.
“You have no reason to apologize.”
“But—”
“No,” he cut in firmly. “I knew what I signed up for, Lena. You shouldn’t feel the need to apologize for your condition all the time. Not to me.”
I swallowed hard, wrapping my arms around his neck. My bare breasts pressed against his chest, little sparks of pleasure jolting through me from the roughness of his snug black Henley. I shifted in his lap and the obvious bulge of his cock beneath me was impossible to miss.
He was hard as a rock.
Guilt snagged in my chest. My hand strayed to his groin, stroking his fly. But he caught my wrist and shook his head.
“Did I make you come?” he asked.
“Ironside…” I said softly.
“Did I make you come?” he repeated, more insistent this time.
Silence filled the air, stretching on and on. I didn’t want to answer that question. Ironside lifted me back up onto the table’s edge, hooking my legs over his shoulders.
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “So, I’m not done with you yet.”
Before I could protest, his mouth was on my clit and his tongue was gliding along the length of my pussy in a slick, scorching hot stripe.
I flung my head back, burying my fingers in his hair as pleasure washed over me.
He didn’t try to penetrate me again—not with his fingers or with his tongue. But he remembered every sensitive spot from our first date, and he took full advantage of them now. My thighs locked around his head and my body shuddered from the force of ecstasy that flooded through me.
Ironside’s grip on my thighs was bruising, dimpling my flesh. I couldn’t take my eyes off him with his head buried between my legs, broad shoulders and tattooed forearms and that piercing blue gaze pinned on me.
My orgasm crested hard and fast, rising and rising. My muscles tensed, toes curling, pussy walls spasming and fluttering.
At the height of my bliss, when I teetered on the brink of explosion, it dawned on me.
I felt wickedly and sinfully sexy in a way that I hadn’t experienced with anyone else before. Stripped naked on my work table. With my legs draped over an older man’s shoulders, while he ate me out like a starved man.
I never did anything like this.
Pepper was right.
The right man had coaxed my wild side out of me.
Then I fell apart, grinding shamelessly against Ironside’s tongue. Completely losing myself in the blinding pleasure of his mouth and the merciless suction he locked on my clit.
A shout tore from my throat, echoing around the room. I dug my heels into his back, bowing off the table.
Ironside’s grip kept me grounded, kept me secure with him amid the onslaught.
And I thought he would stop. I thought one orgasm would be enough.
But no.
He kept going.
The world around me fell away and all of my senses narrowed to his tongue. The slow swirl and then the press against my overly sensitive clit.
“Reuben,” I choked. “Oh my God—”
The second orgasm hit like a freight train. I couldn’t think of anything except how overwhelmingly good it felt.
The sob of disappointment I let out a moment ago was nothing compared to the sob of pleasure that escaped me now. The burn of his beard on my thighs sent me into the stratosphere, prickly sandpaper roughness that made the slippery warmth of his tongue and his mouth feel even better.
What felt like an eternity later, I finally sagged against the table, spent, exhausted. I pushed weakly at Ironside’s head.
“Can’t,” I croaked. “No more.”
He surfaced, wiping my slick from his lips and his beard with a victorious gleam in his eyes.
“Now that’s what I like to see,” he said. “No more tears because of your condition, petal. Not when you’re with me. Got that? The only reason I want to see tears in your eyes from now on is because I made you see fucking stars.”