Page 78 of Puck Me Twice

The first press of his hot, wet tongue to my core makes me yelp. Sven tightens his hands on my hips and tilts his head, applying more pressure right below my clit. Unabashed, I push my hips back into his face.

His groan vibrates through me. He shifts, spreading me, opening me up for him. Before I can think too much about how utterly exposed I feel, Sven dives back in, licking at me with strong, steady pressure.

The soft prickle of his facial hair sparks little lightning bolts of sensation between my legs.

The grip of his fingers around my thigh just might leave faint bruises tomorrow.

And the noises he makes are obscene. And so fucking sexy.

As his fingers trace my seam, I push my hips back again, asking for more. He slips one finger inside of me, slow and steady.

It’s good. I like it.

But I need more.

And as he adds a second finger, twisting and scissoring, I know that I can trust him to give me what I want. What I need.

His tongue laves over my clit, sucking at me with far more finesse than he had nine years ago. The thick press of his fingers pumping inside of me has me clenching around him. Everything inside of me stretches tight and taut. I’m a shard of glass about to shatter.

But I trust him. He’ll put me back together.

As I start to splinter, his hand on my hip keeps me tethered to this plane of existence. The pleasure bursts within me, my entire being imploding in the best way possible. I come with a cry.

But Sven is there. He doesn’t stop. His fingers keep the same rhythm, his mouth keeps the same pressure, giving me exactly what I need.

It’s too much. My arms give out and I start to collapse to the bed.

He slides his arm around to my shoulder, steadying me. I take the support he gives so effortlessly. He pulls his fingers out of me, and before I can think about how empty I feel, he lays me out on the bed, letting me crash onto the pillows.

He collapses beside me. His hand settles on my lower back, just above the top of my dress.

Pillowing my head on my arms, I turn to face him. He’s wearing a pleased expression, his beard glistening from… me.

I swallow. Emotions I can’t identify bubble up within me. I’m not ready for them.

I don’t⁠—

I can’t⁠—

Sven rubs my lower back. The heavy weight of his warm palm on my skin keeps the emotions at bay. His green eyes are kind as he takes me in, no doubt cataloging my messy hair and the bags under my eyes and makeup smeared across my face.

He’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. And for the first time, I feel like it might actually be possible.

Before I can second-guess myself, I launch myself at him, burrowing into his side. My arm slings over his belly, my leg over his as I cling to him. Tears come to my eyes. I blink a few times to hide my reaction. Some of the wetness seeps out of the corner of my eyes, and I press my face deeper into his chest. His scent surrounds me, spicy and fresh with a hint of musk.

He holds me.

He holds me, and he lets me feel my feelings, and he doesn’t try to push me along. He’s so patient with me—in this, in everything he does.

I come back to myself slowly.

I’m aware of the scratchy material of his waistcoat beneath my cheek. The buttons are pressed along the ridge of my nose, and that’s not very comfortable. My dress is twisted all around me, my panties pulled down along my thighs, and I’m wet—very wet.

But it’s his hand on my exposed back, roving up and down my spine with a careful caress. It’s the expansion of his chest beneath my cheek with every breath he takes. It’s the solid planes of his body wrapped around mine, my leg between his, my arm over his belly.

It’s the physical sensations that I recognize first.

I almost don’t realize how safe I feel. How comfortable. This man brought me to tears with the tender, thorough way he loved me.