East Rising (Naive Mistakes #2) by Rachel Dunning Page B

and
physical — began to merge.
    As I watched his cock glisten with pre-come,
the skin covering the head and then going back again, I imagined
its feel in my mouth, on my cheek, between my breasts, the lightly
salted flavor of his sweat. I wanted to lick him, wanted to put my
tongue on his sac and lick that bulging tube along his length, up
to the head, to the center, and tickle it with the tip of my
tongue...
    I looked away, took a deep breath, kept
rubbing him.
    I got pleasure from keeping him waiting,
keeping him begging. I know where I earned that habit, or, should I
say, from whom.
    You know it too.
    I closed my eyes, resisted the urge to taste
and pull on Dorian's massive manliness with my lips, but didn't
resist when his hand, one last time, eased over to between my legs.
Then, when I didn't flinch away this time, he moved his fingers
upward, into the band, and then down, under my lace underwear, and
in. Just the tips.
    Just enough to make me moan.
"Mmmmmmmmm..."
    Now I was his.
    I forgot all levels of control. I was no
longer in charge. Just two little fingertips, after I'd been
waiting for so long, and I melted. Whereas my hand kept moving on
his cock, up and down, it was now automatic. My head fell to his
chest. Dorian shifted onto his side, my eyes fluttered back,
lulled. I was now on my back. The heat went up twenty degrees at
least. I dug my head into the pillow, losing myself in the pleasure
from the tips of his fingers, playing around, touching me,
spreading my wetness.
    He ripped off my pants.
    He'd be able to enter me, with all of him,
and I wouldn't care.
    I lay back. Cold wind accosted my legs, and
then he kissed me between them, licked me and thrust his tongue in
me and then his fingers, then his tongue again —
    "Uuuuurrrrghhhh...." was my
statement. The groan was earthy, from the bottommost parts of me. I
writhed, turned, hit the pillow with my fists because I was angry
at myself — and desperate, desperate for completion. I was
throbbing, enlarged, open ... Part of me resisted, said no,
while the other — so close to climaxing! — cried and pleaded for him to ram his fingers
into me, press up, rub!
    Make me come. Make me
come. Make me come! I cried inside. But not
outside, no, because I was still holding on. Conall should be doing this.
    Conall...
    Conall...
    Dorian pushed his chin into
me as he fed on my wet crotch, his nose rubbing my clit, then his
upper lip. I was close. So close. Almost
there!
    "No! Stop!"
    I fired back and hit the
headboard which hit the wall and then I was off the bed! I ran to
the bathroom and slammed the door! I was still tingling,
everywhere, every limb, pore, but mostly between my legs. God, I'm almost about to come...
    I sat on the bathtub,
opened wide and looked up at the ceiling. Stay still stay still stay still. Don't move! Think of
something else.
    Throb. Throb. Pulse!
    Think of the seagulls...
    I breathed, slowly, like fricking
Lamaze...
    Dorian called out for me from outside.
Worried. "Leora, what is it? I'm sorry? Please, I misunderstood.
Are you OK?"
    Damn it . How had I become this? How had I gone from innocent and hurt
to being the one who did the hurting?
    I waited. There was no
fucking ways I was going to come now. No ways!
    I felt my skin settle, the throbbing between
my legs was lighter, but only just. I kept my legs just slightly
open, not wanting to press, not wanting to, in any way, stimulate
the area at all.
    I needed to either end things with Conall,
or continue them. But, in my mind, he was still mine. And I,
his.
    And this was wrong.
    And I was so fucking crazy to be thinking
that shit!
    But I did, and that's how I felt. So I went
with it.
    When my crawling, raw, sensitive skin
finally chilled out, I called out, "Dorian, it's not you.
Relax."
    He yapped some more behind the door. I'd
really freaked him out. A good sign I figured. I guess if the guy
was a sleazeball who'd been only out to use me, he'd be blaming me
now or something.
    When it no longer