NINE #5
"This is the wash room," he told me, opening a tiny door that had a small table which would house a wash basin and pitcher when I acquired or made one.
There was the simple box with a closed lid that was the composting toilets they all had.
"And, finally, your bedroom," he told me, voice going a little low as he pushed open a door.
Size-wise, it was maybe only a few feet larger than Nesta and Rayna's bedroom with a small fireplace to keep warm, the fire dancing happily, making the bedroom a good twenty degrees warmer than the main room with the banked fire and open windows.
The bed was across from the fireplace, my clothing chest at the foot, small tables on each side to hold drinks or snacks, whatever you might have while in bed.
The mattress was a good eight inches thick, likely to squeeze down to two or three under weight, but a lovely deep purple color that must have come from berries of some sort.
"Try it out with me?" I asked, putting down my notebook and pen on the chest, reaching out toward him, fingers slipping his jacket off his shoulders even as I toed out of my shoes.
His hands rose slowly, tentatively, helping me out of my jacket, then pulling my body to his, sealing his lips over mine.
The heat bloomed through my body, spreading until I could feel it in my fingertips, the soles of my feet, the top of my scalp.
My feet slid backward. I wasn't even sure if they did so on their own or if Drake was urging it.
It didn't matter. All that mattered was that my legs met the side of the bed, and Drake's arm went around my back, holding me to him as he turned, went down on the mattress, pulling me down on top of him.
Free to do so without the constant worry of having to stop, of getting to a point of what felt like no return, then needing to retreat, Drake's hands roamed my body, sliding down my back, over my ass, down my thighs, then up again, sinking in behind my knees, forcing them to cock, making me sit upward, my butt hitting my heels, looking down at him as he looked up at me.
"If I was misunderstanding you when you invited me to try out the bed, it might be kindest to tell me now," he said, even though his voice sounded pained at the idea of having to stop again.
"No misunderstanding," I told him, raising my arms over my head, silently urging him to get more of me.
His strong body folded upward, fingers sliding deliciously down my sides before snagging the hem of my shirt, drawing it up inch by inch. The subtle brush of his fingertips on my belly made a shiver course through me.
When the material was over my shoulders, his chest pressed to mine as he reached up to free my arms, my hardened nipples brushing over the material of her shirt.
Shirt gone, his hands slid down the backs of my arms, then down my back, settling at my hips as his eyes held mine, not searching, not looking over the newly exposed skin.
Unsure what to do, my hands went for his shirt, pulling it up clumsily, my fingers and hands much less skilled at patience than his. But it fell to the floor along with my shirt, and my arms went around his back, pulling his body to mine.
His hiss met my whimper as his bare skin pressed into mine.
My lips pressed to his, slow and sweet and building fast much like the need moving through my body.
My hips ground down on him, whimpering when his hardness pressed into my belly instead of between my thighs.
On a sound that I could have sworn was a chuckle, his lips ripped from mine, his hand moving up to my shoulder, pressing until I lowered backward, my back hitting the mattress, my legs uncurling from under me to frame his hips as he moved up to his knees, towering over me, eyes finally starting to roam.
Down my neck, then chest, pausing.
His hand moved down from my shoulder, thumb moving out to gently slide over my hardened nipple, making my air catch before rushing out.
His hand closed over my breast, squeezing gently before rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, stoking the fire burning inside me.
I hadn't known I could be so sensitive, never having had the occasion to learn such a thing about myself.
But each brush of his finger sent off sparks that spread through me.
His other hand went to my other breast, giving it the same seemingly never-ending attention, making my back arch off the mattress, my hips to writhe in need.
Only then did he lean forward, lower down, circle his tongue over one of the hardened peaks, making my hands slide up his back, clawing into the skin as a new, unexpected wave of desire coursed through me.
Slide.
Suck.
Nip.
The beautiful torment felt endless, felt like it went on forever over each peak until my breasts felt full, overly sensitive, the skin flushed and heated.
His lips moved between, inching down, kissing the line down my stomach, his stubble grazing over the flesh, setting it ablaze in a way that said I would be left with a burn over the soft skin in the morning that I could feel whenever my clothes would brush over me.
His fingers snagged my pants, gently easing them down my thighs, over my knees, calves.
Sitting back, he pressed my knees into my chest, giving him access to my ankles, pulling the material free.
Naked.
It was right then I realized I was completely bared to him, giving him something I had never given another soul before.
I should have felt strange, exposed, vulnerable. Or, at least, that was what others might tell me I should feel in this situation for the first time.
But I couldn't find the smallest bit of nervousness, hesitation.
This was Drake we were talking about.
He'd been nothing but sweet, patient, understanding.
There was no reason to fear anything with him. Not even this.
He would be good to me.
He always was.
Nothing but.
So there was no prickling of uncertainty as his hands found my knees, pushing them apart, pressing my thighs to the mattress, spread open to him fully.
His gaze held mine for a moment, looking for something - maybe hesitation. Not finding it, his gaze slowly slid downward, over my chest, belly, lower, eyes fixed on the most intimate part of me.
His hand slid down my leg, up the soft skin of my inner thigh, then planting at the crease where thigh met hip, taking a slow, deep, steadying breath.
His fingers shifted inward, the pad of his thumb sliding up my cleft, making a shiver rack through me at the strange almost ticklish sensation before his thumb pressed expertly into my clit, sending a shock of pleasure through my body, making a choked sound escape me, dragging Drake's gaze back up to my face, eyes heavily hooded, watching me as his thumb did another delicious swipe.
"More?" he asked, sounding like he might combust if I said no.
As if I were even capable.
I was too far gone to even think about going back.
"Yes." My voice didn't sound like my own. It was airy, light, but beneath all that, raw, almost emotional.
A low, rumbling noise moved through his chest as his hand shifted, another finger sliding down my cleft as his thumb continued to work circles around my clit.
My belly tightened when I felt his finger tease around the entrance to my body, pressing, pulsing, making me oddly aware of the hollowness inside before his finger finally applied more pressure, seeking access.
My walls tightened around him as his finger slid into the hilt, causing this almost overwhelming need for movement, for friction.
"Drake," my voice moaned, needy, desperate.
A small smile pulled at his eyes as he gave me what I needed, finger sliding out, then pressing in again, dragging a moan out of me. "More," I demanded, hands dragging claw marks into his arms.
Drake said nothing as his breathing got more labored, his finger thrusting more quickly, pulling fully out once, thrusting back in with two fingers, giving me a twinge of pain as my body adjusted to the intrusion before the pinch melted away, lost in the building pressure, the promise of oblivion.
My hands left his arms, sliding down his chest, stomach, then snagging the front of his pants, dragging the material wide to free him, to bare him to me.
His cock was full, thick, straining with his own need for release, big enough to make a small twinge of uncertainty move through me even as Drake's fingers started twisting inside me, widening me, preparing me.
My hand closed around him, my walls tightening around his fingers at the surprised hiss that escaped him.
My hand stoked down his hard length, watching as his eyes slid closed, a tremor moving through his body at the contact.