12. Ethan #3
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her over to the workbench as her hands grasped my shoulders. Her small gasps were lost to the thunder as I yanked off my shirt and she leaned back to peel away hers.
Cold air met my skin, and I groaned thinking about what she must look like. Her cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling, her nipples tightening in the cold.
My hands slid along her waist, and her hands gripped my shoulders once more, pulling me down to her.
I sent up a prayer of thanks when lightning flashed and I got a glimpse of her flushed and wide-eyed face.
My lips trailed their way along her jaw, her hands clawing at me with the same desperation that I felt.
What happened next felt both inevitable and miraculous. In the half-dark our mouths met with a fire that words could never capture. My hand slid beneath the waistband of her pants, fingertips brushing the wetness gathering there.
For a second I had to stop, thank the lucky stars that I got to be here with her then, like this.
As if she was echoing my thoughts, she parted her legs wider, an offering I didn’t have the patience to resist.
I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them to find the spot that made her gasp. Unable to get enough of the feel of her skin, I skimmed one hand up to cup her breast. I caught flashes of her head kicking back as I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger until it was hard and aching.
Her moan was low and urgent, and I shifted myself up to capture it with my mouth.
“You sound so sweet, Lena.”
I decided I needed to know exactly how sweet she tasted, more than I needed my next breath.
I kissed my way down the soft skin of her torso, smirking when her hands flew to my head, urging me on.
The way she lifted her hips when my lips reached the top of her pants had me aching for her.
The arch of her stomach glinted in what little light there was.
I met her eyes as I undressed her, willing her to understand everything I was feeling as she gazed back at me.
All thought vanished as soon as her panties slid off, and I had a one-track mind to settle in for as long as it took to leave her shaking.
She parted her legs, baring herself to me, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be teasing or gentle at the moment. Instead, I licked right up the center of her, groaning at the taste of her on my tongue.
Her thighs trembled against my shoulders as I settled in between them, my hands gripping the soft skin there, holding her open to me. I traced patterns with my tongue, alternating between haphazard strokes and focused attention where she needed it the most.
When I closed my lips around her and sucked gently, her back arched off the bench, and I listened to the broken moan that escaped her lips.
I looked up the length of her, unable to resist watching what I was doing to her, then I met her heavy-lidded gaze as I plunged my tongue deeper into her. I lost myself in her pleasure until her fingers tangled in my hair, urging me up.
I made my way up her body slowly, planting reverent kisses on my way back up to her lips.
Her hands shook as they went to the button of my jeans, and I was almost dizzy by the time I slid them off.
The ache in my cock returned as I brushed against her slick core, and I shifted, pressing the head of my cock against her, dragging the wetness over my shaft.
She lifted her hips to meet me and I pushed in, slow at first, just the tip, then pulled back and plunged deeper.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and I gripped her hips, thrusting in a steady, hard rhythm. Her nails raked down my back, breath catching in her throat, while I leaned forward to kiss along her collarbone.
With each drive, the heat between us built.
She cupped my face, guiding me up to her mouth, where our lips and tongues collided in a fierce dance.
I broke away just long enough to hammer into her faster, deeper, my control vanishing completely.
I thrust into her until she cried out, her walls clenching around me, her body shuddering in release.
I felt her pulse against me as I spilled inside her, groaning low, the two of us tangled in the aftermath.
We lay wrapped together on the bench, her head splayed on my chest, my arm slung over her shoulders.
The storm whirled lazily above, and the steady drip from the eaves outside tapped out a slow, soothing rhythm.
My fingers traced idle patterns across her back, circles, lines, nothing that meant anything beyond that moment of warmth and skin against skin.
Her breathing evened out, tension slipping from her shoulders as she drifted toward sleep.
I held her closer, savoring the soft rise and fall of her breaths, the gentle weight of her body. Outside, the night hushed around us. For a while, there was only this: her warmth, my heartbeat, and the quiet ebb of rain against the roof.
I took it in, every small moment of it, because I knew that she just might wake up in the morning regretting everything that had happened.
Even if I knew that I never would.