Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [74]
Her lust-clogged brain took a second to process what he’d said. “I didn’t hurt myself—”
“Not an injury.” His fingers brushed across her mound. “Female bleeding.”
Her face grew hotter than the steam around them. “Why?” Her ex had been squeamish about her time of the month, wouldn’t touch her during it or for a few days afterward, as if she were contaminated. “Is it repulsive to you?”
A frown tugged at the corners of his kiss-swollen mouth. “There is nothing repulsive about a female’s fertility cycle, and blood has never bothered me. I wondered because there were tampons on your counter. I brought them.” His cheeks bloomed pink.
It was so cute the way he glanced away, his face bright with embarrassment. “Why are you asking about this now?”
“Because I want to touch you.” His fingers drifted lightly, tentatively, over her sex. “But I don’t know if those feminine things interfere. Or hurt.”
Her throat closed up, clogged by a mixture of lust, shyness, and amusement at his inexperience with the subject. So instead of saying anything, she put her hand over his. Taking a deep, bracing breath to steady herself, she guided his fingers between her legs.
For a moment, his throat worked on a hard swallow, and then he closed his eyes and stroked her. Once more, her head fell back against the wall, the arch of her body pushing her hips forward and allowing him even more contact. Long, light passes of his fingers over the outer hills of her sex became firmer, and when he worked a finger into her slit, electric sparks lit fire to her blood. His thumb joined the action, circling her clit, and she began to pant, to pump her hips wantonly, needing him to find that perfect rhythm, that perfect pressure.
His other hand came up to cup her breast, and she shuddered at the dual sensations.
“That’s it.” His voice was a guttural rasp. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Oh, yes, she could come from just his words. She could feel his eyes on her, and she dare not open hers for fear that she’d lose this dreamy feeling. Reality was a strange place right now, and for a few stolen moments, she wanted to be somewhere nice.
Then it dawned on her that she was somewhere nice. She was on a Greek island in the middle of a crystal blue sea, in a shower outfitted for royalty, with a powerful man who epitomized the male animal. Sensation rocked her, the sex-on-the-brain as stimulating as Ares’s fingers.
Liquid heat seeped through her center, and Ares made a harsh sound as he pushed two fingers inside her. He worked her, gently at first, and then harder, stroking a place deep in her core that had her rocking into him, riding his hand.
“Now,” she moaned, quivering with the need to explode.
“Say please.” His thumb circled her nub, the pressure perfectly calculated to keep her in a holding pattern. The orgasm coiled tight, ready to go the moment Ares touched just the right spot… which he seemed to know. His torture was masterful, the way he kept her teetering on the edge. “Yield to me. Say it.”
Females always yield to me.
His arrogant words came back to her, but given what was going on right now, she supposed that his arrogance was justified. She’d give him this, but only because he’d worked for it. And because the promise of the best climax of her life balanced on one little word.
“Please!” Her shout wasn’t intentional, but she’d hate herself for it later. The climax hit hard, dropped her into a freefall of pleasure so intense that the floor gave way beneath her, and all she could feel was ecstasy and Ares’s hard body as he absorbed her spasms. His fingers worked her through it, and as she came down, he did something sinfully twisty with his thumb, and set her off again.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Oh… God.” The orgasm went on and on, and where had he learned to drag it out like that? No, she really didn’t want to know…
His cheek grazed hers as he bent his head to whisper roughly into her ear, “How long has it been since a man has taken you?”
Dazed, she had to repeat his question in her head a couple of times,