tongue tangled on the words, so she pushed on his shoulders, urging him down her body as she let her legs fall open.
Bren touched her first, the rough pads of his fingertips gliding through the wetness of her arousal, gentling when he circled her clit. Even that brought her hips up, chasing after his touch.
So light. So sweet. And so not enough. It made her cheeks burn to ask, but she was needy enough not to care. "I want your fingers inside me again. Please."
He gave her one, a long thrust all the way into her as he lowered his mouth and licked her clit. She tensed, her inner muscles clenching involuntarily around his finger, and now that she'd had her hands around his dick, she knew how much bigger it would feel. "More," she whispered. "Like you're getting me ready for your cock."
He lingered long enough to make one thing clear--she could issue orders, but he'd do as he damn well pleased. As soon as the thought fluttered through her mind, he pulled his finger free and returned not with two, but three.
Moaning, she jerked her hips back, torn by indecision. The stretch was almost too much, overwhelming, but every sweep of his tongue helped to melt that pressure into something warmer, forbidden but so delicious. She clutched his head and whimpered his name.
Bren kept stroking, kept licking, as if she wasn't wordlessly begging him to give her more . He'd shoved her to the very brink, but now he let her hover there, twisting into ever tighter knots until she was biting her lip bloody to keep from pleading with him.
The pressure edged past anticipation, and she groaned and tried to wrench away. He held her still, closed his mouth on her clit--and sucked hard.
It was too much and then not enough and then too much again, reeling back and forth as she yanked his hair and bucked, struggling to get closer in one heartbeat and to writhe away in the next. Pleasure swelled up, crashing through the tension, and she froze, back arched, toes clenched, the word please falling from her lips over and over, so tiny and needy and helpless.
And then it was just right. She sobbed out a moan of pure relief as she came.
He guided her through the shudders, his fingers moving, slick and easy, inside her. He trembled, as if he wanted to press her further, but finally his touch eased.
If he'd pushed her up again, it might have killed her. As it was, her limbs felt boneless. Only her fingers had any strength left, but she couldn't seem to unclench them from his hair. "Bren."
He leaned up just far enough to rest his forehead on her stomach. "Yeah?"
She relaxed her hand enough to stroke her fingertips along the edge of his ear. "Are you stopping for me?"
"Mmm." He turned his face to her touch. "For now."
She almost told him he didn't have to, but the words would have been hollow. Sheer habit, telling some guy to take what she wasn't ready to give, because it was the only way to pretend she was in control when it inevitably happened.
Bren didn't need her permission. He knew he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to her, and she should be thanking him for knowing when to stop, not trying to goad him on until he hurt her.
So she brushed her thumb over his lips and savored the tiny hitch in her chest at the intimacy of the contact. "Thanks for taking care of me."
Instead of responding, he crawled up to lean over her. He dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth, gentle and quick, then stretched out and drew her to his chest.
It shook her more deeply than the orgasm had. "You want me to stay?"
He combed his fingers through her hair. "Unless you have someplace to be, yeah. I want you to stay."
This was what she'd never known enough to crave before, the thing the O'Kanes exchanged as casually as words. Affection and warmth, the quiet sensual pleasure of warm skin and his hand in her hair. She could rub her cheek against Bren's chest and close her eyes, and every touch would be a reminder that she wasn't alone. "Okay."
He tilted her face up
Bren touched her first, the rough pads of his fingertips gliding through the wetness of her arousal, gentling when he circled her clit. Even that brought her hips up, chasing after his touch.
So light. So sweet. And so not enough. It made her cheeks burn to ask, but she was needy enough not to care. "I want your fingers inside me again. Please."
He gave her one, a long thrust all the way into her as he lowered his mouth and licked her clit. She tensed, her inner muscles clenching involuntarily around his finger, and now that she'd had her hands around his dick, she knew how much bigger it would feel. "More," she whispered. "Like you're getting me ready for your cock."
He lingered long enough to make one thing clear--she could issue orders, but he'd do as he damn well pleased. As soon as the thought fluttered through her mind, he pulled his finger free and returned not with two, but three.
Moaning, she jerked her hips back, torn by indecision. The stretch was almost too much, overwhelming, but every sweep of his tongue helped to melt that pressure into something warmer, forbidden but so delicious. She clutched his head and whimpered his name.
Bren kept stroking, kept licking, as if she wasn't wordlessly begging him to give her more . He'd shoved her to the very brink, but now he let her hover there, twisting into ever tighter knots until she was biting her lip bloody to keep from pleading with him.
The pressure edged past anticipation, and she groaned and tried to wrench away. He held her still, closed his mouth on her clit--and sucked hard.
It was too much and then not enough and then too much again, reeling back and forth as she yanked his hair and bucked, struggling to get closer in one heartbeat and to writhe away in the next. Pleasure swelled up, crashing through the tension, and she froze, back arched, toes clenched, the word please falling from her lips over and over, so tiny and needy and helpless.
And then it was just right. She sobbed out a moan of pure relief as she came.
He guided her through the shudders, his fingers moving, slick and easy, inside her. He trembled, as if he wanted to press her further, but finally his touch eased.
If he'd pushed her up again, it might have killed her. As it was, her limbs felt boneless. Only her fingers had any strength left, but she couldn't seem to unclench them from his hair. "Bren."
He leaned up just far enough to rest his forehead on her stomach. "Yeah?"
She relaxed her hand enough to stroke her fingertips along the edge of his ear. "Are you stopping for me?"
"Mmm." He turned his face to her touch. "For now."
She almost told him he didn't have to, but the words would have been hollow. Sheer habit, telling some guy to take what she wasn't ready to give, because it was the only way to pretend she was in control when it inevitably happened.
Bren didn't need her permission. He knew he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to her, and she should be thanking him for knowing when to stop, not trying to goad him on until he hurt her.
So she brushed her thumb over his lips and savored the tiny hitch in her chest at the intimacy of the contact. "Thanks for taking care of me."
Instead of responding, he crawled up to lean over her. He dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth, gentle and quick, then stretched out and drew her to his chest.
It shook her more deeply than the orgasm had. "You want me to stay?"
He combed his fingers through her hair. "Unless you have someplace to be, yeah. I want you to stay."
This was what she'd never known enough to crave before, the thing the O'Kanes exchanged as casually as words. Affection and warmth, the quiet sensual pleasure of warm skin and his hand in her hair. She could rub her cheek against Bren's chest and close her eyes, and every touch would be a reminder that she wasn't alone. "Okay."
He tilted her face up