Chapter 30
Henry
He’d been rip-roaring to get naked and down to business right up until she asked him to be careful. He slammed on the brakes and eased off and his plans for the evening adjusted. Henry wanted to get a little exuberant and acrobatic, and see her on her hands and knees, ass in the air. Maybe get creative with her legs in the air or hanging off the side of the bed... He wanted to see every inch of her, to explore it all in every way he could think of.
Except she needed something very different. He had something to prove—that he could take care of her, protect her, make sure she was comfortable and pleased. Ophelia was going to see how very seriously he took that.
So he retreated to kisses and gentle touches, glancing caresses that left her wanting more, and he teased her nipples until she was arching and sighing and murmuring for more. He grumbled, though the wolf wanted to launch into the mount-and-fuck phase, and kissed his way down her stomach. Her scent left him ravenous and desperate, and it took more strength of will than he wanted to admit not to just dive in.
But Ophelia tensed a bit as he eased her thighs open and breathed against her core, admiring her soft pink folds and the hint of wetness that already gathered and coated her flesh. Ready for him. God help him, she was ready and aching to be touched.
He could indulge, like a selfish bastard. But Ophelia trusted him. It didn’t matter what he wanted.
Henry glanced up the length of her body to check her expression, to make sure she wasn’t really freaking out, and found her watching him with wide eyes. He rested his chin on her thigh and nuzzled against her skin. “Okay?”
She nodded, wetting her lips, but still looked like she was holding her breath. Henry arched an eyebrow and used the barest tip of his finger to tease the edge of her slit, where the moisture gathered. “You sure?”
Ophelia nodded more, but still didn’t speak. And her abs remained tight, her thighs tense.
He held off, trying to read her body language, and moved his finger up so he could circle her clit—close but never touching, trying to drag her into a screaming response. “Ever done this before?”
He didn’t want to know. He wanted to think of himself as her first, as the only one who would matter, but he’d have been a fucking moron to think that Ophelia hadn’t had men chasing her for years. He just wanted to make sure he was the last one. The best one. The only one she remembered or ached for.
She took a deep breath and whispered, “Never with anyone who looked so…focused.”
“Oh, I am focused,” he said. He leaned to kiss inside her knee, then maneuvered her leg up and out so he could spread her folds and discover all the treasures she kept hidden. “Just relax, baby. Tell me what you like. Or just grab my head and steer.”
Ophelia might have laughed, but the next moment, as his tongue followed the path his finger had forged, she moaned and it was the best guidance he could have wanted. The tension drained out of her and suddenly she sprawled in the bed, arms and legs akimbo, and turned into pure need and feeling. Henry took his time tasting her, exploring her pussy and thighs and even her ass, until Ophelia was moaning and arching her back and moving her hips in short little jerks against his mouth.
Henry reached one arm up and caught her hand, moving both their palms to her breast, and squeezed with a slow increase in pressure until her breath caught and her moaning went deeper, more guttural. He smiled against her and set his teeth against her clit, easing his fingers into her channel, as he teased and tweaked her nipples. She squeezed her other breast and panted, all of her tossing and turning under his attention, and her voice broke as she cried out.
He retreated to watch a flush climb her body, up through her chest and up her throat to her face, and her muscles tightened in a continuous clenching that dragged his fingers deeper. Henry murmured, “Just relax and let go, baby. I’ve got you.”
Ophelia’s head tossed on his pillow as she struggled and moved, a hint of desperation in every jerk of her hips and the way she touched herself. Henry hummed against her and thrust his hand deeper, curling his fingers until he found...
She came off the bed with a shriek, her heels digging into the mattress and his side, and her channel nearly crushed his fingers as her muscles seized up. She groaned and froze, back arched off the bed, and her mouth hung open as he kept licking and sucking at her clit. The orgasm rolled through her and kept on coming; her whole body turned red and flushed, and he almost thought she stopped breathing. Her legs closed around his head, thighs tight against his ears, and he didn’t mind it for a second.
She twitched as he moved his hand and withdrew his fingers, and she caught his wrist before he could impale her again. She managed to breathe, “Wait,” and he held off.
He breathed against her, still desperate to taste more of her, and watched as her breathing started to even out and some of the new tension melted from her frame. Henry liked having her a sweaty mess in his bed. He pushed up on his elbows to watch her, to enjoy the fruits of his labor, and occasionally dipped his head to breathe against her more. Her thighs tried to close around him again and then abruptly fell open on the bed. She flushed more, but he didn’t think it was the same as before.
Ophelia’s voice cracked as she said, “Wow. That was...”
“Just the first of many,” he murmured, and nipped at the sensitive skin right above her clit. Henry elbow-crawled up her body, letting her feel his weight and how much he wanted her as his cock slid against her thigh. “The only question is how adventurous you want to be.”
She could hardly open her eyes, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “If that’s the kind of adventure you’re promising, I think I might find some courage somewhere.”
He chuckled and lay on his side, tracing shapes on her stomach as he watched her expression. “No need for courage. Just…trust.”
“That’s even rarer than courage,” Ophelia said under her breath. But she didn’t pull away, just exhaled.
“Then I have a great idea,” he said. She’d feel more in control on top, and, well... if he enjoyed the hell out of watching her ride him, then more the better. Henry moved to his back and absently stroked his cock, on the edge of desperate to feel her against him, and rested his free hand on her side to encourage her to move over him.
Ophelia eyed him dubiously, her cheeks pink as she eyed his junk, and she moved to her knees next to his hip. “I haven’t really...”
He swallowed a groan of pure need. That was the look that did him in—sweet, a little uncertain, but willing. God, she was so willing. Henry pushed up on his elbows to kiss her, then caught her wrist to help guide her into straddling his thighs. “Then we’ll start slow, and if you fall off... Well, you know what they say about getting back on the horse.”
And he waggled his eyebrows at her.
She smiled, flushing more, and braced her hands on his chest. She squirmed where she balanced on his thighs, still looking around like she didn’t know where to start, and he had a moment to regret his plan. She might kill him. She might actually kill him with how sexy and fucking amazing she was. He’d straight up die if he had to admire her naked body and feel her thighs and didn’t get to feel more of her.
Henry grabbed her hips and encouraged her to move, and clenched his jaw against the urge to lift his hips and plunge into her. Trust. They needed to work on trust, and getting himself off didn’t come into the picture. Maybe eventually. Or he’d have to take the coldest shower in the history of the world just to let her get some sleep. He tried counting by sevens, his usual trick for pushing off an orgasm, as he moved Ophelia forward until her slick folds slid along his cock, trapped between her and his stomach. Her eyebrows arched in surprise as the full length dragged against her clit, then retreated, and she tentatively repeated the maneuver, so slooooowly he groaned.
Her nails dug into his sides. “Is it okay?”
“So much more than okay,” he breathed. His hands rested on her hips and encouraged her to keep moving. “Just set your own pace, babe. Do whatever feels good.”
She made a purring noise that made the wolf intensely happy, and began a slow rocking against his cock that would absolutely, positively kill him before the night was out.
