Chapter 31 I Want to Feel You
Emily's POV
I couldn't form words, could only nod and rock against his hand, chasing the friction that was somehow both too much and not nearly enough. My underwear was soaked through, clinging to me, and when Ethan hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled it aside to touch me directly I nearly came apart from that alone.
His fingers slid through my wetness, exploring with careful deliberation, and when he found my clit and circled it with exactly the right amount of pressure I cried out, hips bucking involuntarily. He did it again, setting up a rhythm that had me trembling and gasping, completely lost to the sensation.
"That's it," he murmured, his other arm wrapped around my waist to keep me steady. "Let me hear you."
I didn't have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about the sounds I was making—breathless whimpers and gasps and his name repeated like a prayer. When he slid one finger inside me the stretch made me tense for just a second before my body adjusted, and then he was stroking some spot inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Ethan, I—" I couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't articulate what I needed, but he seemed to understand anyway.
"I know, baby. Let go. I've got you."
He added a second finger and the stretch burned for just a moment before pleasure overwhelmed everything else. His thumb kept that maddening rhythm on my clit while his fingers worked inside me, finding that perfect spot and stroking it relentlessly, and I felt myself climbing toward something that felt almost frightening in its intensity.
"Come for me," Ethan said against my neck. "I want to feel you."
The words pushed me over the edge and I came with a cry that didn't sound like my own voice, my whole body convulsing against him as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He worked me through it, fingers gentling as the aftershocks faded, and when I finally came back to myself I was clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
"Holy shit," I breathed, and felt him laugh against my hair.
"Yeah," he agreed, and carefully withdrew his hand. I watched through hazy eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes dark and intent, and the sight sent another pulse of heat through me even though I'd just come.
"I need to taste you properly," he said, voice rough with want. "Can I?"
I nodded, not entirely sure what he meant but trusting him anyway, and let him lift me off his lap and lay me back against the pillows. He hooked his fingers into my underwear and pulled it down my legs, leaving me completely bare, and for a moment I felt exposed and vulnerable under his gaze.
But then he positioned himself between my thighs, hands spreading them wider, and pressed a kiss to my inner knee. "You're so beautiful," he said, trailing kisses up my inner thigh. "I've been wanting to do this for weeks."
The first touch of his tongue against my clit made me jerk so hard I nearly knocked him away, sensation too intense, too much. But Ethan held my hips down firmly and did it again, slow and deliberate, and this time instead of overwhelming it felt perfect.
He took his time, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on my clit, and I lost myself completely in the sensation. My hands fisted in his hair, hips rocking against his mouth without conscious thought, and I could feel myself climbing toward another orgasm embarrassingly fast.
"Ethan—I'm gonna—"
He hummed against me in encouragement and slid two fingers back inside, curling them to hit that spot that made me see stars, and I came apart with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head as pleasure overwhelmed everything else.
When I finally came back down he was pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs, looking absurdly pleased with himself, and I couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped me.
"Show off," I managed.
"You love it," he said, crawling back up my body to kiss me, and I could taste myself on his tongue, which should have been weird but somehow wasn't.
I reached between us and fumbled with his jeans, suddenly desperate to touch him, to make him feel even a fraction of what he'd just done to me. He helped me work the button and zipper open, lifting his hips so I could push the denim down his thighs, and then there was just his boxers between us.
I could see the outline of him straining against the fabric, thick and hard, and when I palmed him through the cotton he groaned like I'd hurt him, hips jerking forward into my touch.
"Emily—fuck—"
I hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled his boxers down, and my breath caught at the sight of him fully naked. He was big—bigger than I'd expected, thick and flushed dark with arousal—and for a moment genuine fear cut through the haze of want. How was that supposed to fit inside me?
Ethan must have seen something in my expression because he cupped my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes. "We don't have to," he said quietly. "We can stop right now."
But I didn't want to stop. I wanted this, wanted him, wanted to feel that kind of connection even if I was scared. "I want to," I said. "Just—be careful."
"I will," he promised, and kissed me slow and deep before reaching for his nightstand.
He fumbled with the drawer for a moment before pulling out a condom, and I watched him tear open the packet with shaking hands. Rolling it on seemed to take longer than it should, and I realized he was nervous too, which somehow made me feel better.
Then he was positioning himself above me, forearms taking most of his weight, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Tell me if it hurts," he said. "Promise me."
"I promise."
He pushed forward slowly, so slowly, and I felt myself stretch around him, the burn immediate and intense. He was only an inch inside and already it felt like too much, pressure building into discomfort edging toward pain.
"Breathe," Ethan said, holding completely still. "Just breathe through it."