After a moment, he stills and pulls back. “If you tell me to stop, I will.”
My heart swells at his restraint, his willingness to put my hesitations before his desire.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I say and mean every word.
His mouth crashes down on mine again, while his fingers move higher beneath my nightdress, caressing, drawing gasps and moans from my lips.
My hands move of their own accord, exploring his taut skin, learning every contour, every plane. The ridges of his abdomen ripple under my fingertips as I trace them, marveling at the strength coiled within. I slide my palms up to the broad planes of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. His skin is hot, almost feverish, as if the fire magic within him is barely contained.
Jasce shoves my nightdress up higher, baring more of my skin to the cool night air. His calloused fingers skim along my inner thighs, sending goosebumps prickling in their wake.
His heated gaze devours me from head to toe before settling between my legs where I ache for him most. Slowly, oh so slowly, he traces a single finger along my sensitive flesh, sending sparks shooting through me straight to my core.
His hands roam higher, skimming the swell of my breasts through the thin fabric of my gown. Heat pools between my thighs as he teases me mercilessly.
He unlaces the ribbon binding my bodice, parts it, and lowers his mouth to one aching nipple, and I cry out in surprise. The sensations are so intense—the scrape of his stubble against my sensitive skin, the wet heat of his tongue.
At the same time, his fingers slide between my legs, stroking me. He teases me, circling but never quite touching where I need it most.
Unable to take it any longer, I reach down and guide his hand to where I ache. He obliges my unspoken demand, rubbing me in time with the rhythm of his tongue on my nipple. With each touch, I climb higher and higher, reaching a place I have only reached with him.
How I want this moment to last forever and forget everything else. It’s probably a foolish thought, but one I relish.
The world spins as I crest that peak, the pleasure breaking over me in wave after wave of sweet, almost unbearable release.
“Good girl,” he says against my lips.
I shudder at his praise, the words coiling tightly in my stomach and shooting tingles through every inch of my body.
Jasce’s mouth moves over mine again, slower now, gentler as he slips a finger inside me, stretching me, preparing me. I know enough about what happens between a man and a woman to know he’s trying to make my first time less painful.
He is patient and thorough, his fingers moving in a rhythm that has me moving against him and gasping with each new sensation.
I want more.
He seems to sense my readiness as he pulls his hand away. I make a sound of protest, which is quickly silenced by his lips on mine as he positions himself at my entrance.
I want this.
I want him!
With a gentle push, he enters me. Discomfort lances through me momentarily, but it is soon replaced by a pulsing warmth.
Jasce remains still, allowing me time to adjust, his steady gaze never leaving my face, searching for any sign of discomfort. After a moment, he moves inside me with slow, measured thrusts. Each movement builds on the one before and sends shockwaves through me.
I meet his rhythm with an urgency borne from months of desire. My hips rise with his, and my hands clutch at his back, pulling him closer, deeper.
He is everywhere. In the taste of his lips on mine, in the scent of him filling my nose, in the way his skin feels against mine.
All-encompassing. All-consuming.
His mouth leaves mine as he presses heated kisses down my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access. His movements become faster, more insistent. His thrusts drive deeper.
His hand moves down my side, fingers trailing a path of fire along the curve of my hip before slipping between us. I gasp as he touches me where we are joined.
His thumb circles that spot again, the one he had discovered with his fingers earlier. With each pass, my body tightens, my pleasure climbing higher and higher until I hover on the edge of another precipice, bigger, more powerful than before.
He feels it too. His breath hitches, his motions becoming less controlled, more desperate.
