Page 9 of Love on the Edge
Something tight unravels inside me.
The teasing, the tension—we’ve been circling this moment all night. And now that we’re here, it crashes into me, fast, urgent, impossible to ignore.
The blanket slips off my shoulders as Ethan moves, his hands sliding down to my thighs. He grips my waist, pulling me closer, pressing me back against the truck bed.
His mouth trails along my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. My pulse pounds beneath his lips.
I don’t think. I just feel.
His body, his hands, the way he fits between my legs as I straddle him. Heat settles low in my stomach, thick and pulsing.
His name leaves my lips in a shaky breath, and that’s all it takes.
It’s the way his touch burns through me, the way my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
Ethan notices. He reads it instantly.
He stills, his fingers barely there against the lace of my underwear, his breath warm against my jaw.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
His voice is rough, thick with restraint. His hands don’t move away, but he pulls back slightly. Waiting.
I don’t want space.
I don’t want him to wait.
I grab his wrist, not to push him away—but to make sure he doesn’t let go.
His exhale is sharp and controlled, while his blue gaze stays locked on mine. His fingers flex under my grip before they slide higher, teasing, testing, tracing slow patterns along my inner thigh.
My breath falters.
I arch into him, my legs parting before I can think twice. I shouldn’t want this as badly as I do, I don’t even know his last name.
Ethan must feel the way I tremble because his lips brush against my ear, slow and deliberate.
“I’ve got you, Val.” His voice is deeper now, something dark curling around the edges, something I feel everywhere.
Then he moves, his fingers slipping beneath the lace, and I stop thinking altogether.
Ethan’s fingers brush against bare heat, and my whole body tenses. It’s instinct, a shock at the intimacy of it, but it’s not hesitation. It’s need.
He groans softly, his breath warm against my cheek as he moves again, fingertips gliding through the slickness pooling between my thighs.
"You're already so wet for me," he rasps, his voice low, thick, like he’s barely holding himself back. His fingers stroke deeper, slow and deliberate, sliding between my folds before circling myclit in a featherlight touch that has my breath catching in my throat.
I gasp, back arching as heat pulses low in my stomach. My hips jerk slightly, chasing the sensation, and Ethan chuckles, the sound dark and knowing.
"Right there?" His tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s memorizing every reaction.
I grip his shoulders, nodding because I can’t find words, not when he keeps moving, pressing deeper, rubbing slow, torturous circles against my most sensitive spot. The pleasure is sharp, consuming, something I can’t hold back.
"Relax, Val," he murmurs, his free hand sliding up my side, fingers pressing into my ribs just enough to ground me. His lips graze my ear, sending another shiver down my spine. "I’ve got you."
Then he moves lower, his fingers testing, stretching, slipping just inside, and my breath stutters, a moan breaking free before I can stop it.
Ethan stills, waiting, watching me.
