8. The Explanation #4
"I thought about searching for you," he began, his voice low and rough with desire.
His hands gripped the flesh of her inner thighs and squeezed.
"Of tracking you down. Slipping into whatever hovel you were hiding in and watching you.
I'd find you all alone, spread out on your bed.
You'd be naked, your supple, pink flesh on display for me.
You'd have no idea I was there, and I'd sit back and relax and enjoy the show you unwittingly gave me. "
His fingers dug into her sensitive flesh just enough.
Not painful, but it amped up her anticipation of the pleasure she knew was to come.
Slowly, his hands inched up her legs, stopping right at the seam of her underwear.
With measured strokes, he ran his fingers just shy of where she wanted them. His deep voice continued.
"Your legs would be spread, your knees wide apart giving me a perfect view of your fingers moving desperately.
Your movements would become frantic, seeking your release.
Then, you'd start to get loud." His words were growled into her neck, and it sent vibrations straight to her core.
"You'd be calling out my name like a woman possessed.
Begging me to find you, to come and fuck you. "
Iris's breath hitched, caught in the web of his words—lost, wanting, waiting.
"Go on," she pressed, a part of her exhilarated by the raw need in his voice.
"And when you saw me," Nash continued, his gaze never leaving hers, "you'd look up with those big brown eyes of yours.
Shocked, confused, even a little afraid.
But none of it would matter. You would be lost to your own desire.
And then, instead of running from me, you'd beg oh so prettily for me.
For me to give you what only I can. Telling me how sorry you were to have ever left me. "
A tremble coursed through her, driven by the potent imagery he painted.
She knew exactly what he could give her.
A pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
Iris drew back slowly, her hands sliding along his legs.
She found her feet beneath her and then slowly stepped backward.
Heading toward the hallway that contained their bedroom.
As she walked, she shed the last barrier on her body.
Her bra fell away, and then her underwear.
She slid them down her thighs with purpose. Her movements slow and languid.
Naked now, she headed for their room, for the stage of her little show.
"Then, Ricky, I guess you better come find me." With that, she spun and rushed away. Once inside the room, she reached for the light switch on the wall. She left every light off except for the ones on the wall behind the bed.
The stage was set, and liquid heat raced through her as she pictured what she'd look like to him. She heard nothing behind her. No footsteps, no breathing. She had no idea if he followed, but she wouldn't let that stop her.
With determined steps, she crossed the room and climbed up onto the dais the bed sat upon.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she lay back, spreading her limbs in open invitation—an offering she knew he'd never refuse.
With determination, she emptied her mind of everything except what he described.
Her own fingers felt woefully insufficient after having his on her so recently.
She barely had to act as his name began to float from her lips.
"Nash..." she called, her voice a velvet caress in the inky darkness.
She could see nothing but black around her.
Hear nothing but her own ragged breathing.
But, somehow she knew he was there. Watching.
Her skin could feel the heat of his gaze.
His name fell from her lips again and again. It became her mantra, her prayer.
He stepped into sight. His large frame leaning onto the bed directly between her open thighs. Power and grace in his every move. His eyes blazed with a fire that promised to give her everything her body ever wanted.
And as his body fell onto hers, he did. His hands were like fire as he smacked her hands away from her core.
He hooked his hands around her outer hips and brought her up to his mouth.
He dove down on her like a man starving.
Her cries were loud in the quiet room, but she didn't care.
She wasn't capable of it. No, her thoughts were scattered as she focused on nothing but the pleasure his lips and tongue was bringing her.
With little warning, her body fell over the edge.
Powerful spasms wracked her whole body, her thighs clenching around his ears.
He gave her no time to come down from her high.
As soon as she was done, he had climbed up her body and settled his hips between her played out thighs.
One thrust and she was falling over the edge all over again.
Her body was so sensitive she could no longer tell where she ended and he began.
"You feel so good," his guttural words vibrated against her neck. It send delicious shivers racing down her spine. "You're mine, ma fleur."