187 Caine: Restraint
187 Caine: Restraint
Grace whimpers, and I glide the washcloth over her breast, pinching her nipple with the rough fabric. She sucks in a deep breath, her body arching into my touch despite herself, and it takes everything in me not to just throw her to the floor like a wild man.
Her hips buck, and I shove my cock more firmly against her with a groan.
I am under control, damn it.
Again.
Her dusky nipples are gorgeous and tight and I want to spin her around and ravage them until her breasts are left with my marks across every last centimeter of skin.
*Stop saying my name,” she begs, her eyes squeezing shut.
“It’s d–dirty” Her teeth catch her bottom lip as she stares at the ground. Or my hand.
Fuck
And my pants, as she immediately shoves her ass back against my cock, nestling its length between each pert little handful of flesh.
My control slips another notch. “But what about the energy, Grace?”
Cold water drips down her skin, pebbling it, and I groan as her entire body goes rigid.
But I hold back.
She nods frantically, her pulse jumping visibly at her throat. The scent of her arousal is better than anything I’ve ever smelled before, and I want it on me every damn minute, every hour, every day of the rest of my life,
“More” she whispers, the word barely audible.
There’s no man in this world who can hold back in this situation, and I grind against her with a harsh groan
Her body’s too rigid, and she sounds panicked.
If I can’t fuck her, I at least need the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much she
wants me
22.09
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187 Caine: Restraint
“More what? Grace, you have to tell me what you want.” I need her to say it. Need to hear the words from her mouth.
My cock hardens painfully as she rises on her tiptoes, her body instinctively seeking more. Her legs part in wanton invitation, but I stop at her lower abdomen, hovering just above where she needs me the most.
“How is it now?” I ask, fighting for control with every breath.
“Don’t say that,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing crimson.
My cock throbs painfully, demanding I continue, but I force myself to pull away, removing my hand first, then taking a deliberate step back. Cold air rushes between us. My skin feels like it’s on fire while also feeling like I’ve jumped into an ice–filled
lake.
She bites at her lip again and shoves back, whimpering as I rock my hand against her.
“Let go, Grace. We can’t touch, remember?” My voice sounds strangled, my fingers tense as I fight back the urge to drop the fucking cloth and plunge them inside of her until she gushes all over this floor.
“Why, Grace?”
I freeze, my hand still pressed between her thighs through the washcloth, my chest heaving against her back. The washcloth drips onto the floor, each splatter loud in the
sudden silence.
And I am. Not for wanting her–never for that–but for pushing so hard when she’s clearly overwhelmed.
I’m civilized. Perfectly capable of holding back. 2
“Is it too much? Too little? Can you handle this?” Each breath draws more of her scent
into my lungs.
I pull back, though every cell in my body protests our separation.
“I want you to touch me… more.” Her voice breaks on the last word.
“Because it’s too much!” she gasps, her body trembling against mine. “When you say my name like that–it’s too much.”
12:04
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CAINE
187 Caine: Restraint
“I can smell it.” The words are supposed to come out as more of a dominating growl, but it’s more like a needy groan as I hold myself back.
Her words pierce through the haze of lust that’s clouding my mind. Too much.
She shakes her head, her blonde hair falling across her face. I want to twist it around my fist, pull her head back, and devour her mouth.
I hope it’s my hand she’s watching, but she’s so fucking bashful, it’s hard to tell.
But then she looks over her shoulder at me, her green eyes dark and wide and so very confused, “Why did you stop?” 2
“Why?” I step closer, telling myself it’s okay. My clothes are between us. If the washcloth is helping, then so will my shirt.
If she keeps this up, I’m going to come in my pants before I ever get her to her peak.
“B–Because…”
I fight against the tide of lust that threatens to drown us both, holding onto the threads of my humanity by sheer force of will. “You’re not answering me, Grace.”
“Tell me where you want it, Grace.” My voice is barely human at this point, gritted out through my teeth.
Her legs tremble, the muscles in her thighs twitching. Every instinct in me demands I drop to my knees, taste her, claim her fuck her until she’s breathless and messy and marked beneath me.
The feral half of me is clawing to get out, wanting to hear her scream my name until her voice gives out. I tighten my grip on the washcloth before roughly shoving my hand between her thighs, cupping her where she wants it.
My fingers press a little harder through the cloth, but don’t travel any lower. “But I can smell how hot you are. How much you want me to touch you. Want me to move a little further…” O
Barely. 4
“Why not?”
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187 Caine: Restraint
Even if every little shuddering breath of hers wants to rip my control to pieces.
She twitches.
Fenris huffs. Keep yourself under control.
“Is it because every time I say it, you gush a little more?” I breathe her in, letting her know I’m aware of every reaction. “Don’t lie, Grace. I can smell it every time.”
“I’m sorry,” I rasp.
“Where else are you hot, Grace? Here?” I slide the washcloth lower, over the soft plane of her belly.
Her fingers spasm around my wrist before she releases me. Her hands fall to her sides,
quivering as she jerks them one way, then another, as if not sure what to do with
herself.
She sucks in a groan that shoots straight to my groin. Her fingers wrap around my wrist with surprising strength as she shoves my hand down farther.
We’re going too far; my control’s slipping.
Dampening the washcloth at the sink, again, gives me a few seconds to breathe. But this time I barely squeeze any water out before running it across her shoulders again.
“Here?” I whisper, my voice rough and breathing heavy.
