Chapter 44 I Am Shaking
Emily's POV
Ethan hummed against me, the vibration making me gasp, and added a second finger. The stretch was perfect but he still didn't give me the depth I needed, just curled his fingers to stroke that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids while his mouth continued its relentless assault on my clit.
The pleasure built rapidly, heat spreading through my limbs as my muscles tensed in anticipation. I was right on the edge, so close I could feel the orgasm gathering like a wave about to crest—
And then he stopped.
His mouth lifted and his fingers stilled, leaving me trembling and desperate on the precipice. I made a sound of protest that came out more like a whimper.
"Not yet," he said, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, then another higher up. "I want to feel you shake first."
"I am shaking," I protested weakly.
"Not enough."
He returned to his task but with even more devastating precision. His tongue worked my clit in tight circles while his fingers pumped slowly, and within moments I was climbing again, even faster this time because I was already so sensitized. My thighs trembled around his head and my breath came in short gasps and I could feel myself clenching rhythmically around his fingers as the pleasure mounted—
He stopped again just before I could tip over, and this time I actually did whimper, hands fisting in the sheets.
"Ethan, please—"
"I know, baby. I know." He pressed another kiss to my thigh, then bit down gently on the soft flesh, and the slight pain mixed with the overwhelming arousal made my whole body jerk. "You're doing so good. Just a little more."
"I can't—"
"You can." His fingers moved again, faster now, and his mouth returned to my clit with renewed intensity. "Come on, Em. Let go for me."
This time when the wave built he didn't stop. He kept going as I climbed higher and higher, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful, until finally it crested and broke and I came with a cry that I barely recognized as my own voice.
The orgasm ripped through me in waves, my back arching off the bed as every muscle contracted. Ethan worked me through it, his fingers and tongue gentling but not stopping, drawing out the pleasure until I was shaking and oversensitive and had to push his head away.
He crawled back up my body, and I could see my arousal glistening on his lips before he kissed me, letting me taste myself. The intimacy of it made something clench in my chest even as aftershocks still rippled through my core.
"See?" he murmured against my mouth. "Beautiful."
Before I could respond he shifted his hips and I felt the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and despite having just come I found myself arching up to meet him, wanting more, wanting all of him.
He pushed inside in one slow thrust that had us both groaning. The stretch was overwhelming after being so sensitized, pleasure bordering on too much, but he gave me a moment to adjust before starting to move with long, deep strokes that hit something devastating inside me.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he cursed under his breath and picked up the pace. His hand slid beneath my ass, tilting my hips up so he could drive even deeper, and I clawed at his shoulders as the pleasure built again impossibly fast.
"God, Em," he groaned against my neck. "You're so tight—feels so good—"
I couldn't form words anymore, could only hold on as he fucked me with increasing urgency, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall. I was climbing again already, still sensitive from the orgasms, and when his thumb found my clit and pressed down I shattered for the second time with a broken cry.
He kept thrusting through my orgasm, the sensation almost unbearable, and then his rhythm faltered as he chased his own release. He came with a guttural moan, hips jerking as he filled the condom, and the feeling of him pulsing inside me sent another small aftershock rippling through my body.
For a long moment we stayed like that, both breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin pressed together. Then he carefully withdrew, dealt with the condom, and collapsed beside me, immediately pulling me against his chest with one arm wrapped tight around my waist.
For a while we just lay there in the dim light filtering through the curtains, his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my cheek. The tension from earlier had finally dissolved, replaced by the languid heaviness of physical satisfaction.
His hand came up to stroke my hair, fingers trailing through the tangled strands with a gentleness that made my eyes drift closed.
"Em," he said quietly.
"Mm?"
"If we can't see each other every day..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "At least share more of your life with me? Tell me what's going on, who you're meeting, what's happening in your world?"
I felt a flicker of guilt at the request, understanding the vulnerability underneath it. He wanted to feel included even when we were apart. Wanted to know he still mattered in the midst of my relentlessly busy schedule.
But my brain was already shutting down, exhaustion pulling me toward sleep. I thought hazily about my actual life—classes, library, work shifts at Marco's, more studying, occasional texts with my mom. The same routine day after day with barely any variation. Lily kept inviting me to parties I never attended. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd met someone new.
There was nothing to share because nothing ever happened. My life was just work and survival on repeat.
"Okay," I mumbled, the word coming out slurred and half-formed. "I will."
His fingers kept moving through my hair in soothing strokes and I felt myself slipping away, consciousness dissolving into darkness. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that I hadn't really answered his question, that I'd given him the easiest possible response just to end the conversation.
But I was too tired to care.