Twisted - Esme Devlin Page 0,67

joy it brings me comes as a surprise. I edge down farther, and he holds his breath… as if this is just as painful for him as it is for me.

“What I wouldn’t give just to ravish you right now,” he says, his voice straining.

“Then do it,” I tell him. I’m taunting him. I know I’m playing with fire, but I can’t seem to help myself. This is torture.

His fingers run up my back, scratching me with his nails while I arch my back against him instinctively.

I let out a gasp, and he catches it with his mouth.

When his hands reach my shoulders, he slides them around and firmly pushes me down on him, all the way, without an ounce of restraint.

I cry out, but it just connects with his mouth, and it seems to send him crazy with need.

His tongue dominates my mouth while his hands move to my neck. My hips squirm against him, and I don’t even know what it is I’m trying to do.

Having him there aches. It’s an intrusion, a foreign one.

Completely unknown and strange and new. But it’s not horrible. There’s something satisfying about it, like fitting two pieces of a puzzle together after attempting it for a long time. Something so incredibly…

“Fuck,” I moan. Fuck.

Baron chuckles against my lips. “Not so brave now, are we?”

I shake my head, which only causes a further amused sigh from him. “Good. I like you better that way.”

He places a kiss on my lips and then he shifts position. I cling to him as he pushes me down onto my back. As he returns me to the water.

Yet again, I feel like I’m drowning until his chest covers me and protects me from the downpour.

Just as I feel like I’m getting settled, like it’s safe to breathe again, he pulls out the slightest inch and then drives deeper inside me. “Baron…” His name is the only thing that comes to the front of my mind. This is torture, and I don’t even know what it is that I want.

I can’t even feel his face anymore—he’s too tall. There is only hard chest in front of me, and I cling on to the sides of him when he does it a second time, feeling so small in comparison to him. My lips press against his pecs, and he holds his breath again, barely moving an inch.

He lets the breath out in a sigh, as if he’s frustrated. Is he frustrated with me? For my inexperience? I’m just lying here, but I don’t know what else to do. I want so badly to ask him if that’s the case, but I’m worried his answer would hurt me.

I feel his chest move against me as his breathing deepens. He’s not moving at all, just increasing the pressure against me. It still aches, it’s still painful, but I shift against him anyway, silently coaxing him. Urging him on.

With a grunt, he falls to the side, pulling me with him and switching us around. “Do it,” he says, clutching my hands in his. “I can’t. I will ruin you… and that’s not fair.”

There is a defeated note in his voice, as if he is sad. A hint of a man I’ve never seen before… one that isn’t always so sure of himself.

One that is able to feel.

One that is able to be hurt.

I lean down over him, catching his head in my hands and pulling it toward me. I cover his lips, and he groans into the kiss. I don’t say anything… but I’m hoping I don’t need to. I’m hoping this gesture will be enough for him.

I’m telling him it’s okay.

His fingers trail down my spine while I kiss him. I’m trembling in his arms, my whole body tingling from his touch. He grips my bottom, pushing me farther down against him, and it’s like something shifts between us. I can’t see him, but I can feel him beneath me.

He was tense and controlled, but that is now being washed away with the water. I’ve felt it simmer within him all night, and now it’s as if he’s burning up. It’s as if he is too hungry to fight it anymore.

“Does this hurt you?” he asks, forcing my hips up and then slamming me back down against him. “You feel too small for me. Just a fraction too small.”

He does it again, and I let out a cry which only seems to delight him. “Yes, yes it does,” he says, as