Eternal Adoration [ON PAUSE]

19. When Control Slips Through Her Fingers

Continued from the last part...

I can't tear my eyes away from his release in my hands, coating some of my fingers, branding my skin like it belongs to him, and making my tongue thirsty with the need to taste him.

I'm still immobile when he curses once again and stretches to the bedside table to pull a few tissues from the box. Without saying a word, he cleans my hands while I just watch him, still trying to catch my breath.

Once he's done with my hands, he double-checks for any more mess before hastily cleaning his beautifully spent cock and tucking himself back inside his shorts. I mourn the loss of it with a whimper at the back of my throat that shocks even me. Who knew I'd be such a dick fiend?

He takes in a deep breath, then hesitantly, he starts, "Seraphina, I think I shouldn't have-"

My hasty movements bring a pause to his words as I scramble off my knees and sprawl on my back opposite him, opening my legs.

Now he's the one whimpering deeply in the back of his throat.

"No talking. I want you to just watch me, Aristide."

His nostrils flair and his fists close down around the bed sheets. Looking away from my core, where I'm sure a wet spot decorates the flimsy material of my shorts, his eyes connect with mine.

I tsk in disapproval. "Eyes down there, dear."

"Seraphina-"

I shake my head, pulling my shorts off. "I said watch, no talking." His lips shut close, but his hands remain fisted at his sides. He looks ready to pounce on me, and the fact that it's just my words holding him in place does something to my insides.

I grow impossibly wetter, unlike anything I've ever felt before.

"You did this, Aris." I open my legs wider, showing him. "You made this mess happen. If only you hadn't brushed against me." Looking at his crotch, and already, I see he's growing hard again under his pants.

"You came to my bed," he reminds me harshly, never taking his eyes off my sleek folds. He watches them revelently, like he's not sure he's not in a dream. "Fucking hell," he whispers to himself, and I smile privately.

"I guess that's true," I agree, propping my right elbow on the bed. I only need my left hand for this. "But still, you instigated this entire situation. It didn't have to culminate in this. Yet here we are."

I'm not sure he's heard anything I said because he only blinks rapidly, leans forward as if about to touch me, then thinks better of it and holds himself back with a shake of his head.

I bite down on my bottom. "You okay, dearest?"

"Why are you trying to kill me?" Dark, frustrated eyes snap to mine. "It's not fucking nice, Seraphina."

"Kill you?" I frown innocently. "Is my pussy not to your liking?" With tentative fingers, I find my clit. "Oh," I whimper at the contact as I draw lazy circles around the achy nub.

"What is it?" His voice is impenetrable, and dare I say he's about to lose it.

"It's just . . ." I close my eyes and lean my head back, feeling his eyes sliding all over my body.

"Just what?" He practically growls the question.

"I've never been this wet and sensitive before." I use two fingers to press down on my clit and I have to hold down the loud moan that climbs up my throat. Fuck.

"Slide a finger inside that tight hole, Seraphina," he commands, and I want to argue, but before I can, I'm obeying his words. He growls in approval. "Good girl."

And my goodness, I can't help but moan at the compliment.

"You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful and so sweet," he rumbles, sounding closer than he did before. "Now be a good girl and tell me what your fingers are touching."

"It's very tight," I manage weakly, barely holding on and trying to understand how the control could have slipped out of my hands so quickly. "It's silky, and so slippery."

"Hmm, let's go faster, yeah? You're close but I think you need a bit of help getting there."

Is his voice against my ear? I try to concentrate on whether we've moved in the course of a few seconds, but just then, my thumb brushes against a particularly sensitive part and all sense of awareness is lost in the sounds of a sob of pleasure.

"There it is. You're doing so well, sweetheart. Just a little more and you'll be right there," he coaxes gently, and now I'm sure of it, his voice is against my ear. "Just how you watched me break, I can't wait to see you shatter right here. On my bed. With the same curious, little fingers that worked me so well."

"Aristide, I-"

"Shh, baby. It's okay. I'm right here." I feel his hands sliding down my arm, until his hands are on mine, helping me torment my clit and push in and out of my pussy until my wetness is coating both our fingers.

At some point, his knuckles brush against my overstimulated clit and I jolt from the contact, letting out a wail that sounds like nothing that has ever come out of my mouth. Like desperation and need and pain and pleasure all wrapped up in one.

"I'm here, Seraphina. I'm right here." He kisses the shell of my ear down to the base of my neck, speaking softly against my skin. "I'm here and I'm not letting you go. Not now or ever. So you can let go. I promise you, mia cara, you can."

"Oh, Aristide!"

His hand slides up my sides, palms pressing against my stomach, my full, tender breast, and my neck, until they slide into my hair. He massages my scalp slowly, his fingers tangling in my coils, making a shiver run down my back.

"I-I think . . . I think I'm close."

An impending doom, but in a good way. Like an upcoming drop of a roller coaster, a sudden burst of color, an accelerating car. All scary, but all so exhilarating. That's what this moment feels like.

"Just let yourself feel it all, Seraphina. I'm right here. Right here, sweetheart."

How I've managed to find myself within his arms, losing myself through him and because of him, I don't know. But here we are. And when the drop happens, I fall without any regard for my surroundings, without any inhibitions, without any fears.

Because as I'm falling, strong arms are wrapped around me, rubbing my back soothingly and murmuring soft words of praise against my ear, telling me how beautiful I am, how perfect, how his.

I come down from my high slowly, almost drowsily, like I'm coming out of a deep, heavy sleep. Catching my breath one shallow huff at a time, and like the gentleman he is, Aristide's hands drift up to my neck, kneading softly.

I'm about to open my mouth, to say something, to thank him perhaps, or maybe to regain some sort of power, I'm not so sure, but before I can decide, the sound of the doorbell ringing repeatedly from the front door reaches us.

And in a swift move, Aristide is pulling out his gun from the bedside table and sliding out of the bed with a murderous look on his face. "Now, who the fuck is that?"

I struggle to sit up to pull on my shorts, scrambling on the bed to watch him swing open the door and prowl down the hallway after sending a warning look my way to stay put.

With a wince, I throw myself back on the bed and let out a deep breath. Whoever is on the other side of the door, I must say that as bad as I feel for them for facing Aristide's wrath, I hope he at least hits them upside the head with the end of his gun for disturbing one of the most exhilarating moments of my life.

But when a shrill feminine voice hits my ears, one that sounds like the same voice on the phone from last night, the 'Chiara' person, I realize that unfortunately, no heads will be hit with the end of a gun today.