Aaron's Will

by DawnMarie Richards

  The directive lost none of its authority despite the tremor in his voice. She released his flesh from her mouth with a small pop. She caught his eyes rolling back into his head as she looked up at him, his body arching beneath her. He settled back into the bed as he faced her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

  “I want you to tell me how you are feeling.”

  “Feeling?” she questioned.

  “Your back.” She felt his fingertips gliding over her skin as if in reminder. “Your face, your lips.” He urged her upward until he was able to bring his mouth to hers. Gently, he kissed her. “How are you?”

  Finally understanding, she had to smile. Her physical state had become inconsequential against the glorious luxury of having had Dylan undressed, unaware and at her mercy.

  “I have no idea,” she confessed.

  “You have…,” he began apparently baffled by her answer. “Do me a favor and figure it out, please. Right now I’m considerably invested in your assessment.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Why? You’re joking.” He moved his hand from her face to the juncture where she obliviously continued to hold him captive.

  “Oh.” The intimacy of their mingled fingers over his erection stole her breath.

  “Yes, ‘Oh,’” he whispered lifting his head to bring his lips to hers. “The only thing stopping me from taking you right now, sweet, is I will never forgive myself if I hurt you. So, please, tell me the truth.”

  “I honestly don’t know,” she told him earnestly then more shyly. “Because all I can think about is how much I want you.”

  “I want you to take another dose of pain killers.”

  “No.” Reflexively, she tightened her grip on him.

  He shut his eyes.

  “Did I hurt you?” She loosened her hold, but did not let him go.

  “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

  “Good,” she whispered. “Now make love to me.”

  He opened his eyes and she saw their usually icy depths had deepened to an ocean blue. She braced herself for an onslaught, but his kisses were heartbreakingly tender. A sob hitched in her chest as each feathery caress seemed to touch her very soul. It was as if he was saying he loved her over and over again.

  When she thought she might dissolve into tears, he changed tactics. With infinite care he swept her bruised lips with the very tip of his tongue making them tingle and pulse with need. Then he abandoned her mouth completely, painting her eyelids, cheeks, forehead, temples, even her nose with the brush of his lips. Without thought, she released him to twine her fingers in his hair.

  Artfully, Dylan maneuvered until she was on her back and he was lying aside her. She made a small sound of objection when he lifted his head and opened her eyes to find him searching her face.

  “Please, just one.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “For me, please.”

  How could she refuse him?

  “If it will make you feel…”

  He was off her and headed for the bathroom before she could finish. He returned with a fresh glass of water, her medication and several silver packaged condoms. She picked up one of the packets, amused by the logo: a lower case ‘n’ with a tail curling around itself.

  “It looks devilish, somehow.”

  “Appropriate labeling, I’d say.” He opened the pill bottle and carefully tipped one tablet into the palm of his hand. “For you.”

  Leaning up on one elbow, she took it from him, popping it into her mouth and reaching for the glass. After she swallowed the dose, she lay back against the pillows.

  “Tell me you’re all right.”

  He reached down to touch her cheek.

  “I’m all right,” she whispered.

  “Tell me you want this.”

  “I want you,” she corrected.

  “Tell me we’re not making a colossal mistake.”

  “We’re not,” she promised.

  He considered her carefully. She saw the war waging behind his eyes. Hooking her fingers with his, she tugged him closer to the bed.

  “I remember what I wanted to tell you last night.”

  “What is it, sweet?

  As she suspected, his attention became entirely focused on what she had to say.

  “I love you,” she told him calmly.

  With a groan, he was on her. He brought her legs together between his and formed a triangle around her head and shoulders with his forearms and hands. He seemed to be everywhere except where she wanted him. Supported by his elbows and knees, he hovered over her, the barrage she had expected earlier finally unleashed. In seconds, every cell of her body throbbed with desire. But sheathed by Dylan, she was immobilized except for the increasingly agitated movements of her fingers.

  Using all her strength, she alternately pushed then pulled at him, desperate to be free of his binding hold. He ground his lips into hers unrelentingly, her mouth forced open wide defenseless against the sensual dance of his tongue over hers; a dance which left nothing to the imagination even while her body was kept motionless. Incited and feverish yet helpless to act, she lost control.

  Caressing hands curled into claws with biting nails and raked at the skin of his back. Quickly, he captured her wrists in his strong fingers, bringing them to rest above her head and shackling them in place. She struggled against him, her eyes widening with desperation.

  “Stop fighting it. I know what you need. Trust me. Let me do this for you.”

  She cringed to hear her pathetic whimper, but he only continued to look at her expectantly. With gulping breaths she willed herself to relax. When she thought she was ready, she nodded her assent.

  She was able to hold it together while he outlined the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist and the swell of her breast with his free hand. But the simple brush of his thumb over her nipple was all it took to jolt her back to the brink of insanity.

  “I can’t, I can’t.” The urgent words were ripped from her lips.

  “You can,” he insisted, finally releasing her legs to nestle between them. “You will.”

  She spread her thighs wide, relief coursing through her at the prospect of her incessant need being satisfied. But he didn’t give her the part of him she most craved, covering her instead with the blunt span of his lower abdomen. He put his open mouth over hers, capturing her sob of disappointment. She pushed at his shoulders and twisted her hips beneath him in a futile attempt to position him where she wanted. No match for his weight and leverage, she quickly tired and was reduced to lifting her hips in a feeble effort to entice him.

  “I know,” he soothed. “Soon, but I want you to earn it, sweet. It will be so much better. Now, be still.”

  Although spoken gently, she felt his words bind her as tightly as any physical restraint. She could only watch as he pushed himself up and made his way down her body. Using his lips, teeth, and tongue, he forged a trail. He adorned her collarbone with kisses and nipped at her shoulders. When he got to her breasts he took a moment to fix her with a wicked stare, a crooked grin splitting his face.

  “Remember, be still.”

  Panting with anticipation, Morgan could only look back at him through the valley of her breasts. She tried, but when the flat of his tongue ran along the underside of first one breast and then the other, she reacted instinctively. Her hands went to his head as she bowed beneath him.

  He rolled away from her to stand beside the bed and pin her with a resigned frown.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I…”

  “No excuses. I understand this is new for you, but if you move again, I might have to restrain you. Do you understand?”

  Her breath quickened at the thought of being restricted by something unsympathetic like a rope or handcuffs, something immune to any appeals she might make. It frightened her almost as much as it excited her.

  “Yes,” she managed.

  For a moment she thought he looked surprised, but the brief expression disappeared before
she could be sure.

  “Do what I tell you now. Put your arms over your head. Straighter and your palms together. Good. Now, spread your legs. Wider. Wider. Very nice. Are you ready?”

  Wet, taut, dry-mouthed and excited to the point of coming unhinged, Morgan could only moan.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He resumed his former position over her, his mouth going unerringly to her upturned breasts. She steeled herself, pressing her hands together until her wrists ached as he alternately lapped at, sucked on and blew over her sensitive skin. The muscles at her shoulders and hips contracted, forcing her arms and legs back into the mattress. Using his flattened tongue, he approached her aching nipples in ever tightening circles, but never granting them the relief of his touch.

  Of course, she knew he would not make it easy for her. It was a test, of her, of him, of them. She concentrated on her breathing, deep in, deep out. It was the only thing left to her control. Deep in, deep out, sensation rioted through her body. Deep in, deep out, she strained against the ceaseless impulses to twitch, thrust and buck. Deep in, deep out, she went from aroused to inflamed to ravaged.

  Her shallow breathing seemed loud in the relative silence of the room. In her head, she pleaded with him. Begged for him to give her more, satisfy every craving of her flesh and mind, give her release. But she knew she couldn’t voice any of it. Her pleasure was his to control, to command, to master.

  Suddenly and unexpectedly a sensual calm settled over her. Her muscles became deliciously heavy, too weighted to move. His every touch continued to resonate throughout her body, but she was able to experience it, every bit of it, without response.

  She let out a shuddering sigh.

  “Oh yes, sweet,” he said against the side of her breast. “Put your hands on my head.”

  As soon as she had her fingers tangled in his hair, he ran his tongue over one taut nipple. Despite the jolt going directly to the juncture of her thighs, she remained motionless except for the movement of her hands over his head. She felt him smile against her before turning his attention to her other breast. There was another lick, another clenching shock within, but only quiet calm on the outside. She traced his hairline and the peach-fuzzed shells of his outer ears. Dipping her fingers into the intricate inner folds, she heard his satisfied grunt. Then he drew her into his mouth.

  Morgan understood there must be a cord of nerves running from her nipples to her clitoris. Everything he did to the tight bud in his mouth seemed to echo in the tiny nub crying for attention against the uncaring flat of his pelvis. The urge to move against him began to impede on her hard won serenity.

  Her skin itched and her muscles twitched. She became flushed and shrouded in a fine sweat. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

  In frustration, she whimpered. Dylan lifted his head.

  “Put your arms back up, palms together.”

  She whined in feeble protest, but did as he said.

  As soon as she was in position, he caught at her nipples, giving each a gentle nip. She gasped, helpless against the current arcing her off the bed. She expected him to leave her, make good on the punishment to restrain her. Instead she felt him skimming down her body, catching her bottom in his hands before she could sink back against the bed. He held her there while he settled between her spread legs.

  “Be still,” he reminded her before placing a reverent kiss on each thigh.

  Then Dylan ran his tongue along Morgan’s very core.

  Her hips vaulted. He didn’t comment, simply adjusted his hold, locking her into position. Legs pushed wide across his shoulders, pelvis exposed and at his discretion, breasts bereft from his mouth’s desertion, hands irrelevant in their forced position, Morgan felt herself throb with anticipation. He didn’t make her wait.

  He planted his mouth on her and with his lips and tongue commenced an elaborate choreography which drew her higher and higher into ether. She teetered on the edge, fulfillment within reach, when he slowed his movements. The spring uncoiled. Immediately, the rewinding began. Over and over, he brought her to the precipice then pulled her back.

  Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her jaws clenched against the pleas threatening to escape her. Her thighs began to quiver and, still, he refused to release her. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, tracking over her temples and pooling in her hair. Her world narrowed to a place of surrender where she could only expect to be endlessly conquered.

  * * * *

  Power surged through Dylan even as he grappled with feeling entirely lost. Morgan’s body was providing him detailed instructions. He knew exactly what to do, and when, to make her mindless. But he was far from being unaffected. She was an intoxicant, a narcotic against his tongue. He couldn’t seem to stop. The more she let him deny her, without so much as a whispered, “please,” the more he wanted to see how far he could push her.

  Already, she had exceeded his expectations. His doubts made ridiculous. Sweet Morgan Shore was proving to be more than a match for his decadent needs. In fact, he’d never experienced such absolute capitulation. And they’d only just begun. He began to believe.

  He heard her muffled sob. She was coming apart. He had to free her. A subtle change of pressure and rhythm and within seconds the rounded muscles of her bottom convulsed in his hands. She rode out each shock wave in motionless silence astounding him with her strength of will. Slowly, so very slowly, he stilled against her before pressing his lips to her in a simple kiss. He heard her weak sound of protest. The small act of defiance almost had him reinvading her with his tongue, but he reminded himself he had the rest of his days, and hers, to teach her.

  He drew away from her pulsing flesh, lowering her hips and looking up at her. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. She kept her arms over her head as he’d instructed her and her legs remained wide and welcoming around him. He strangled the impulse to simply rise up and drive into her. It was a tempting proposition, but he wanted their first time together to be more for both of them.

  So instead, he smoothed her legs together beneath him and made his way up over her body kissing her here and there as he went. When he was level with her face she opened her eyes. Dylan saw passion and wariness mingled there and knew he had inspired both of those emotions. He dipped his head and kissed her lips gently.

  “How do you feel?”

  She shook her head, her eyes squeezed tight.

  He smiled and wrapped his arms around her before rolling onto his back. She straddled him instinctively, her hands flat against the center of his chest, her hair falling in a curtain between them. Sensing she was working herself up to something, he closed his eyes and waited.

  “Dylan?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Was that…will it always be like that?”

  He looked at her, then, reaching to tuck a cluster of auburn curls behind one of her ears. Taking in the concern creasing her brow, he cupped the side of her head and brought her gaze to his.

  “Like what, sweet?”

  “Intense. Overwhelming. Shattering.”

  “Intense? Probably. Not so overwhelming over time. And I think you’ll come to look forward to being shattered.”

  She let out a shuddering breath.

  “Touch me,” he invited.

  She looked at him suspiciously making him laugh.

  “It’s not a trick. You do get to touch me.”

  Looking entirely unconvinced she leaned forward, her breasts flattening onto his chest. He willed himself to be motionless, to give her time to discover her own power. She kissed him. Tentative and brief, it was enough to bring him up hard against her bottom. Her gaze snapped to his and then a wicked, heart-stopping smile curled her lips. She wriggled backward and captured the length of him between her cheeks.

  “It was just a kiss.”

  “Maybe for you.” He did his best to look offended.

  She giggled and he was swamped by a flood of lo
ve for her.

  “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.” He pulled her close. “God, no. I…”

  Not knowing how else to express all he was feeling, he tried to put it into a kiss. When he finally let her go, she looked down at him flushed and breathless.

  “I know,” she told him.

  And he understood she did. He might be the expert on physical pleasure, but Morgan was the master of love. Right now, she held his future. She was everything. He wanted to be joined with her dominion, be part of it.

  Focusing on her intently, he reached for the bedside table, his fingers closing around one of the packets there. He opened the square and pulled out the condom.

  “Let me.” She took it, twisted to the side and deftly sheathed him with a fluid sweep of her fingers.

  He slipped his hands around her hips, his fingers extending under the curve of her bottom, his thumbs anchored in the crease where thigh met pelvis. With gentle pressure he guided her. He wondered at the brightness in her eyes. They were so wide and inviting, welcoming him in to her body, her mind and her heart. He shuddered as he entered her, his eyes rolling back before being shuttered.

  He heard her sigh of acceptance. Her hands braced against his chest as she instinctively began to move over him. Waves of emotion threatened to drown him with their force. They battered and pulled at him, urging him toward an abyss. Unnerved, he sat up drawing her legs around his waist. Twining his fingers in her hair, he turned her face up to his.

  “Will it always be like this?” he whispered.

  “Like what?” she asked him breathlessly.

  “Intense. Overwhelming. Goddamn shattering.” He improvised at the end, dropping his mouth to her neck.

  He clung to her. She moaned as she writhed against him. Her hands sailed over his skin branding him wherever they touched, making him hers. There would be no escape from these depths.

  Taking her by the shoulders, he held her fast in front of him. A fine sheen coated her flushed skin. Her eyes were heavy hooded and the color of melted caramel. Her lips were parted and she traced them with her tongue while he watched sending his blood hammering through his veins.

  “What is this? It’s never…I’ve never felt this before.”