Red Hot Rebel C41
He closes his eyes, and even in the near darkness, I can see how his jaw works. “You don’t mean that, not in the way it’s usually said.”
I reach for his shoulders, for the half-unbuttoned shirt still hanging off him. “Yes, I do. And I’ve never meant it before. We could try, can’t we?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sleeping with you in here.”
I make my voice light. “You might have to, unless you plan to sleep outside.”
“Ivy.”
“Rhys.”
His hand smooths down my chest, my stomach. “Your skin feels like silk,” he murmurs. “Are you really saying you want to try to have sex? With me?”
I don’t trust words, so I go with the tried-and-tested-sounds. “Mhm.”
“Damn.”
“If it’s not too much to ask.”
He laughs, and it brings out my own. “Too much to ask? No. I’ll help you get your ticket to Sexville, but not in a Jeep, and not tonight.” Then he snorts. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m using that stupid expression now.”
“It’s catchy. And what’s wrong with this Jeep? It’s sturdy. Has a good hood.”
He settles next to me, his arm still moving over my body. Stroking across my stomach, cupping a breast, down to my exposed legs. I shiver as his fingers trail up my thigh. “Not here,” he repeats. “We need to make the proper preparations.”
“Preparations?”
“Yes. Tell me, how high are your expectations, exactly? Conditioned by years of waiting, of hearing others, of reading about sex and watching porn.” He kisses me after asking that, which makes it hard to think, but I manage.
“Are you saying you’re not up to the task?” I’m teasing, but my voice turns shaky as his hand returns to stroke my thigh. Moving from outer to inner.
“Oh, I most certainly am, which is why I know I’m not going to do my best work in this cramped space.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.
“Coward,” I say, but it’s all bluster. My muscles relax at his words, at the realization that as nice as this is, it’s not going to happen tonight. But there will be other nights with him.
“I’ve never liked being demeaned in bed before, but this is kind of working for me. By all means, go on.”
I laugh, turning my face against his arm. He smooths a hand over my shoulder. “Besides,” he murmurs, “there’s no reason to rush. If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right. Build up to it.”
His hand returns to my breast, a warm, teasing presence. “I like that,” I whisper.
I can’t see his smile, but I can feel it. “I noticed,” he says. “You like teeth, too.”
“Mhm.”
“I wonder…” His hand skims lower, across my abdomen. My poor, beautiful silk dress is bunched around my stomach, but I’m not cold now. His fingers skim the lace edge of my underwear and it sends shivers dancing across my skin. “You touch yourself on occasion, right?”
“Rhys,” I murmur, closing my eyes as his fingers continue stroking the lace edge.
“Too personal?” He kisses me again, lips teasing. “I thought we were past that.”
I nod against his shoulder and thank the darkness in this Jeep that he can’t see my furious blush. It feels like crossing a threshold, this, not exactly uncomfortable… but unfamiliar. Saying the words, performing the actions.
His hand is so tantalizingly close to the waistband. My body has none of my mental hang-ups and twists toward him without shame, my legs widening.
Rhys hums low in his throat. He bends to kiss my neck at the same time as his fingers slip under my waistband. “You’ll have to show me how, Ivy.”
But I can’t, because I can’t breathe, not as his fingers inch downwards. Giving me time to back out. But I don’t. The fire he’s stoked is burning at a fever pitch, and I might be nervous, but I’m not scared.
His fingers reach that spot, right at the apex between my legs. “Here?” he murmurs, his fingers gently circling.
My breath is shaky. “That’s where I usually focus, yes.”
“I bet.” Rhys bends to take one of my nipples in his mouth again, sucking at the same tempo as his fingers move. And he’s doing things with his fingers that I don’t. Circling, pressing, pinching and stroking. My breath grows embarrassingly loud and I reach out to fist a hand in his shirt again, wanting him close.
“I wish I could see you,” he mutters, his fingers delving further down. “Jesus Christ, Ivy.”
“What?”
Is he breathless, too? “You’re wet.”
I bite my lip and wish I could make out the expression on his face. “That’s the desired effect, no?”
“Oh yes.” He grabs a hold of the lace of my panties. I lift my hips as he tugs, pulling them down my legs and tossing them aside in the darkness. And thank God for the darkness, I think, my heart pounding in my chest.
He chuckles, as if to some private joke. “What’s funny?”
I feel him shake his head, but he answers anyway. “I’ve fantasized about sliding your panties down your legs before, but I’ve never been able to settle on what they look like. What kind of underwear you wear. And now that I have, I can’t fucking see them.”
I laugh at that, even as desire clutches at my stomach. He’s fantasized about this? About me? I want to ask about that, but he’s stretched out beside me again and his hands are spreading my legs wide.
“All right,” he murmurs. I shiver at the return of his touch, skilled and strong and not my own. And then we both groan as he slides a long finger inside of me, knuckle by knuckle. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
But it’s not. It’s deliciously just enough, and I turn my face toward his chest, my skin against his. The few buttons I’d managed to undo come in handy.
“Have you used toys?” he asks, the heel of his hand pushing down on the aching spot above. He slides his finger out, and just as gingerly back in. It feels better than it ever has when I’ve done that myself, because it’s him.
“I have, yeah.” My sister had gotten me one for my birthday a few years ago, which might have been the most Penny thing ever, and it had… well. It had been well-loved.
“A vibrator?”
“Yes.”
His fingers continue moving. “And you’ve used it inside of you, as well?”
“Yes, but not as often.”
“Okay, that’s good to know.” His voice is hoarse, the drawl he so often uses absent. He sounds like he did on the bridge in Paris, when he’d asked me if I wanted to be kissed beneath the moonlight.