Page 6 of Always Been His

I kiss him and his fingers don’t stop moving, and I’m climbing something, building towards something, his thumb circling exactly where I need it and his middle finger sliding just inside…

“Wait.” I stop him.

He goes still immediately, pulling back so he can see my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just…” I take a breath. The waves break. The music thumps in the distance. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

“I’m a virgin.”

The words drop into the space between us, and I watch his face for a reaction. Surprise flickers in his eyes, and then those crystal blues darken.

“Okay,” he says, soft. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to. I want to, with you. I just…” My voice wobbles. “I wanted you to know. Before.”

“Thank you for telling me.” He cups my face, just as I imagined earlier, and his mouth presses against the curve of my neck. The gesture is so gentle it makes my chest ache. “We can just do this. What we’re doing. You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want more,” I say it fast, before I can talk myself out of it. “You know, if you want to.”

“If I want to.” He repeats it like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “Sienna. I want to so badly I can’t see straight. But only if you’re sure. Only if you’re absolutely sure.”

“I’m absolutely sure,” I whisper against his lips.

He eases me back, and his fingers find me again, and this time it’s slower, softer, his touch calibrated to my reactions. He watches my face as he circles, as he presses, and when my mouth drops open and my eyes flutter shut, he makes a sound of approval.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my temple. “Just feel it. I’ve got you.”

One finger slides inside me, and it’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome, a stretch that makes me inhale sharp.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

His finger moves with patience I didn’t know he had, his thumb still working me in slow circles, and the combination is building something hot and tight in my belly. My hands grip his shoulders, my face is buried in his neck, and I can smell salt and smoke and the slightly woodsy smell that’s all him. It’s so addictive. I want to press my nose into him and never leave.

I whimper as he crooks his finger inside me just right, sending shocks of pleasure up my spine.

“That’s it, Songbird,” he murmurs against my temple, his breath hot on my skin.

I squirm against him, making noises I’ve never made before, because nothing has ever felt this good. I mean I’ve touched myself before, of course I have, but this is different; this is his calloused fingers knowing exactly how to coax the tension from my body, his other hand gripping my hip to anchor me as pleasure builds in unfamiliar waves.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises when I groan, and the rumble of his voice against my chest makes me arch into his touch.

“Right there!” I moan, pulling myself closer to him.

“Good,” he rasps against my ear, adding a second finger. “I want to feel you come on my hand.”

The stretch burns sweetly as he opens me with slow, relentless patience until I’m panting against his neck, whispering “please” like a prayer, chasing something I’ve never let anyone give me before. His lips find mine again, swallowing my moans as he curls his fingers just there.

“Fuck,” I moan, arching my spine above the sand, pressing my hard nipples against his chest. “I’m going to come.”

“Mmm, come for me.” He groans, the hard tent in his pants pressed against my inner thigh, adding to the pleasure.

The words tip me over. I’m pulled under the wave of pleasure, releasing a sound that is half moan, half sob, I press my face into his shoulder and let it happen. His arm wraps around my back and holds me through it while his fingers keep my orgasm coming.

After, I’m breathing hard. He’s breathing hard.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he says. It’s not a line. It’s said like a fact, like something he’s been holding back for a long time. “Do you know that?”