Asher
Violet whimpers, and I glide the washcloth over her breast, pinching her nipple with the rough fabric. She sucks in a deep breath, her body arching into my touch despite herself, and it takes everything in not to just throw her to the floor like a wild man.
I'm civilized. Perfectly capable of holding back.
Even if every little shuddering breath of hers wants to rip my control to pieces.
"Where else are you hot, Violet? Here?" I slide the washcloth lower, over the soft plane of her belly.
My cock hardens painfully as she rises on her tiptoes, her body instinctively seeking more. Her legs part in wanton invitation, but I stop at her lower abdon, hovering just above where she needs the most.
"Here?" I whisper, my voice rough and breathing heavy.
She nods frantically, her pulse jumping visibly at her throat. The scent of her arousal is better than anything I've ever slled before, and I want it on every damn minute, every hour, every day of the rest of my life.
"I can sll it." The words are supposed to co out as more of a dominating growl, but it's more like a needy groan as I hold myself back.
"Don't say that," she whispers, her cheeks flushing crimson.
"Why not?"
"It's d-dirty." Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she stares at the ground. Or my hand.
I hope it's my hand she's watching, but she's so fucking bashful, it's hard to tell.
My fingers press a little harder through the cloth, but don't travel any lower. "But I can sll how hot you are. How much you want to touch you. Want to move a little further…"
Her legs tremble, the muscles in her thighs twitching. Every instinct in demands I drop to my knees, taste her, claim her, fuck her until she's breathless and ssy and marked beneath .
Fenris huffs. Keep yourself under control.
I am under control, damn it.
"How is it now?" I ask, fighting for control with every breath.
She shakes her head, her blonde hair falling across her face. I want to twist it around my fist, pull her head back, and devour her mouth.
"Is it too much? Too little? Can you handle this?" Each breath draws more of her scent into my lungs.
"More," she whispers, the word barely audible.
"More what? Violet, you have to tell what you want." I need her to say it. Need to hear the words from her mouth.
If I can't fuck her, I at least need the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she wants .
"I want you to touch ... more." Her voice breaks on the last word.
My control slips another notch. "But what about the energy, Violet?"
She sucks in a groan that shoots straight to my groin. Her fingers wrap around my wrist with surprising strength as she shoves my hand down farther.
"Let go, Violet. We can't touch, rember?" My voice sounds strangled, my fingers tense as I fight back the urge to drop the fucking cloth and plunge them inside of her until she gushes all over this floor.
Her fingers spasm around my wrist before she releases . Her hands fall to her sides, quivering as she jerks them one way, then another, as if not sure what to do with herself.
We're going too far; my control's slipping.
I pull back, though every cell in my body protests our separation.
Dampening the washcloth at the sink, again, gives a few seconds to breathe. But this ti I barely squeeze any water out before running it across her shoulders again.
Cold water drips down her skin, pebbling it, and I groan as her entire body goes rigid.
Her dusky nipples are gorgeous and tight and I want to spin her around and ravage them until her breasts are left with my marks across every last centiter of skin.
But I hold back.
Again.
Barely.
"Tell where you want it, Violet." My voice is barely human at this point, gritted out through my teeth.
"Stop saying my na," she begs, her eyes squeezing shut.
"Why?" I step closer, telling myself it's okay. My clothes are between us. If the washcloth is helping, then so will my shirt.
And my pants, as she imdiately shoves her ass back against my cock, nestling its length between each pert little handful of flesh.
Fuck.
There's no man in this world who can hold back in this situation, and I grind against her with a harsh groan.
"Why, Violet?"
She twitches.
"Is it because every ti I say it, you gush a little more?" I breathe her in, letting her know I'm aware of every reaction. "Don't lie, Violet. I can sll it every ti."
The feral half of is clawing to get out, wanting to hear her scream my na until her voice gives out. I tighten my grip on the washcloth before roughly shoving my hand between her thighs, cupping her where she wants it.
Her hips buck, and I shove my cock more firmly against her with a groan.
If she keeps this up, I'm going to co in my pants before I ever get her to her peak.
I fight against the tide of lust that threatens to drown us both, holding onto the threads of my humanity by sheer force of will. "You're not answering , Violet."
"B-Because…"
She bites at her lip again and shoves back, whimpering as I rock my hand against her.
"Because it's too much!" she gasps, her body trembling against mine. "When you say my na like that—it's too much."
Her words pierce through the haze of lust that's clouding my mind. Too much.
Her body's too rigid, and she sounds panicked.
I freeze, my hand still pressed between her thighs through the washcloth, my chest heaving against her back. The washcloth drips onto the floor, each splatter loud in the sudden silence.
My cock throbs painfully, demanding I continue, but I force myself to pull away, removing my hand first, then taking a deliberate step back. Cold air rushes between us. My skin feels like it's on fire while also feeling like I've jumped into an ice-filled lake.
"I'm sorry," I rasp.
And I am. Not for wanting her—never for that—but for pushing so hard when she's clearly overwheld.
But then she looks over her shoulder at , her green eyes dark and wide and so very confused, "Why did you stop?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)