Free Through the Static by Jeanette Grey

his tongue to hers again, breathing hard at every new revelation of her palms against his skin.
    More , he begged. Her calves hooked around his thighs, and when the hard need at his hips met the cradle of hers, he had to rear back. To wrench his lips from hers and roar.
    Pleasure. This was pleasure .
    In her mind, he saw his hands cupped to the ripe fullness of her breasts, and in the next instant he was there. He attached his mouth to her throat and reached into the bunched mass of fabric at her waist, pushed up and up until his palms curled around feminine softness.
    Then his fingertips brushed the line of the bandage he’d wrapped around her shoulder the night before, and he froze.
    Her hand was cool against his cheek. “Look at me.”
    He opened his eyes to stare at the beauty of hers. Let the anguish of his worry pour into his voice as he gritted out, “Don’t want to hurt you.”
    â€œYou won’t. You aren’t.”
    Before he could protest, she opened her mind to him in a rush. His whole body shuddered, cock throbbing against her hip at the waves of heat inside her body. He was making her feel good. He could do that.
    â€œI’ll tell you,” she promised.
    He saw in her thoughts the lines of injury, the pieces of shoulder and knuckle and scalp where he should not touch. And then a fire lit in the places where he should. She threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked sharply, a delicious burn that melded pain and pleasure in a way he would never have foreseen, and he was dragged down, lost in her kiss again and shoving his body into the open valley of her hips.
    She showed him how to take the clothes from her body, and he did so with madness and reverence. When he stripped his pants from her hips, exposing new flesh, lush and pale, his need redoubled.
    â€œI don’t know— Can’t—” Everything was ache and desire, touch and the overwhelming sensation of completion . Inside and out. “Too much—”
    She shushed him with gentle fingers at his lips. “Just feel.”
    He felt everything.
    With her hands and with her thoughts, she showed him how to touch her. When his fingertips parted wet, female flesh, he felt her tremble, felt her body opening for him. She brought his thumb to the silken bulb atop her sex and pressed his fingers into her more deeply. Her back arched, her moans and the soft sounds of her slickness drowning out the world.
    Then she pulled her hand from his, and before he knew what was happening, she had his pants down to his knees, her palm curling around his cock, and every nerve and synapse ignited at once. His length slid through the circle of her fist as he buried his fingers to the knuckle in liquid heat. He dropped his head to the ground, opened his mouth against the thrumming of her pulse.
    â€œAurelia…”
    She tugged at his wrist until he withdrew his hand from between her legs. With her palm still wrapped around the base of him, she placed his tip at the entrance to her body and then touched the side of his face. Stifling a groan against her throat, he shifted forward, sliding an inch into heaven before stopping. He bit his lip and forced his eyes open, forced his hips to still.
    Bracing himself with one hand on either side of her head, he reared up and looked into her eyes. And then, achingly slowly, he pressed himself home.
    Jesus fucking—
    There were no words and no thoughts, only impressions of heat and fullness, the crushing embrace of her and the raggedness of her gasp.
    And somewhere deep inside, he knew he’d done this before. In another life, he’d known the satisfaction of a woman’s body, but even with that part of him closed off from his memory, he couldn’t imagine. He couldn’t believe it had ever been anything like this. A meeting of bodies and minds, a union so complete and a sinking of one person into another.
    â€œBe one with me,” she whispered, nails