Chapter 39
Aoife
After our tutoring session, I’d gone straight back to my room and slammed the door, locking it, and laying down on my pallet, staring at the rafters, replaying that kiss over and over and over.
He’d kissed me. Lor had kissed me, and godwitches help me, it had been the most glorious thing I’d ever experienced. When he’d lifted his head from mine, eyes glinting, I’d wanted to yank him right back into me.
But he’d stepped back and walked away like it was nothing at all.
Now here I was, the area between my legs throbbing, heat pooling in my belly, and nothing but my hand and memories of that kiss to help me.
I took a deep breath and trailed my hand down my stomach and under the waistband of the soft linen trousers I’d worn today, then I closed my eyes, Lor’s face popping into my mind.
My fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves, and I was already wet, soaked just thinking about a kiss.
I’d never known a single kiss could light a fire in me like that.
I’d definitely never suspected a kiss from Lor could do that to me.
How I’d ever seen him as nothing but cold and rigid I didn’t know.
That kiss was pure fire, and it had spread to me.
I inhaled as I slid my fingers up and down my slit a few times, imagining Lor’s musky scent surrounding me. Imagining we were back in that doorway, and he was leaning over me just like he had.
Holy feck. The way his biceps bulged under his shirt, the way he looked down at me with that feral gaze—I’d have stripped naked right then and there if he’d asked me to, and I didn’t even care that I’d actually be doing something Lor asked me.
I just needed this ache to go away, to satiate this sudden and fierce need for him.
I imagined that he’d kept kissing me in the library, that I’d felt his hard length pressing into me, that his fingers danced down my torso and dipped under my waistband.
“Lor,” I gasped out loud as my fingers went back to that sensitive bundle of nerves and started rubbing frantic circles.
I could just imagine the feel of his scruff, rough against my skin, feel his lips crushing my own while he held me with one hand and serviced me with the other.
This was so good. Too good. It was just a fantasy, but I didn’t want it to end.
I wanted to live in it for just a little longer, so I stopped my fingers, my body now an inferno.
I arched my back and trailed my hands up to my breasts, imagining Lor’s hands exploring.
I’d caught him staring at my bosom one or two times over the last few weeks, and I hated to admit that a little rush of pleasure shot through me at the thought of Lor looking at me in that way.
We’d been what felt like enemies for so long that I wasn’t even sure how this had happened, how we’d turned this corner, but all I knew was that for the first time in a long time, I was craving Lor’s touch.
I played with my nipples, rubbing them and tracing them, let my hands skim over the peaked buds, all the while picturing Lor’s face, his intense eyes, his hitched breathing as he touched me with those rough, large hands.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My body was a wildfire that couldn’t be contained.
I was going to burst if I didn’t get a release soon.
The area between my legs throbbed painfully, and even though I wanted to stay in this imaginary scene, I had to end it now.
Lor’s rough voice echoed in my thoughts: “Come for me, Aoife. Come hard for me.”
“Oh, Lor.” I squirmed arching my pelvis into my hand and rubbing hard and fast.
Pleasure erupted through me, every part of my body tensing and taut as I thought of Lor and his intense eyes watching me, studying me like they did everything else.
I’d come apart in his arms with his fingers between my legs.
I cried out as wave after wave crashed through my body.
I was drowning in pure bliss, and I didn’t want to be saved.
My body gave one last shudder as I came back to myself, breathing hard and in shock over what had just happened. That had been the best orgasm I’d ever given myself, and I had no doubt it was because I’d been thinking about Lorcan Wolfgang.
I let out a laugh of disbelief. For the first time ever, I’d touched myself thinking about my husband—and what was more, I’d liked it.