Her dress slides down her chest, and I take my time. Savoring. Exploring.
I’d already seen her bare, but a man didn’t tire of seeing a goddess twice. Especially in this context. One where she wanted me.
My hand slides over her ribcage, my thumb grazing the underside of her peaked breast.
"Arlet," I murmur against her lips. “I need you to answer one last question.”
“All right,” she says. Pliable in my grip. It makes my cock painfully hard.
“How do I make you come?”
She blinks, flushing harder. Then she squirms.
“Arlet,”I grunt when she brushes against my length, rocking once. White light fills the edges of my vision, but I don’t lose sight of her. Her brow, her neck, her eyes. They are warm and vulnerable andworried.
“There was a time when all I knew of you was gleaned through quiet observation. But we’ve moved past that. We talk—of everything.”
“Just do what you like,” she says quickly.
I shake my head, and put a finger under her chin, tilting her gaze to mine.
“No.” The tip of my digit trails over her jaw. “No. That’s not how this works.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “But I… can’t.”
I keep tight pressure on her hip to remind her that all of this is safe. Then I notice when she moves to cover herself.
Ah. Her state of undress. She would feel more comfortable if I joined her.
Pulling my braid over my shoulder, I yank out the leather tie and let hair unwind. She watches, eyes shining. Then I pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the bed.
“Of all the things I’ve observed, the thing that has always made me the most sad is knowing that you deny yourself the most. You hide bits of yourself in plain sight. I can work with that, but we only get one first time. So tell me. It would be a gift.”
Her bare chest rises once, causing her collarbones to become more prominent. The back of my knuckle traces one.Lovely.
“In the past, I have spoken,” she says.
“But your partner didn’t listen.”
She shakes her head, agreeing.
“Do you think I would be so cruel?”
She blinks, warding the tears. “Well—no. I don’t think so.”
I pull her forward, giving her a moment to adjust to how we feel pressed together. My skin. My hands on her.
Our breath.
Rise, fall. Rise, fall.
“I want to be… overwhelmed,” she breathes then stops. “I like pressure. Abandon. Surrender.”
I muzzle my nose into the side of her neck. “Those are vague words.” I graze my teeth against the column of her throat. “Be specific.”
A shudder ripples through me when her hands tighten on my shoulders. Sizzling energy moves back and forth between us, crackling across my ribs.
“My mind is cluttered, full of work and life and worry. I want tobe free of that with you. I want your touches to rip me away from my life. Be gentle, or don’t. Just… take charge.”