Free Eye of the Beholder by Emma Jay Page B

fallen down a rabbit hole.
    Then he was over her, braced on his elbow,
toying with her hair, his other hand sliding over her hip and
between her parted legs.
    She bowed toward him at the first brush of
his fingers over her damp curls, and he delved deeper, to tease her
opening before sliding up to toy with the little nub of pleasure,
swollen now with anticipation. He bent his head to swallow her gasp
as he circled and stroked it before dipping back into her body,
stretching, pushing deeper than she’d had the courage to do. The
sensation was at once alien and delicious, and she moved against
his hand, wanting to follow the sensations, but also wanting to
hold back, to feel the full experience of desire when his body
entered hers.
    “Soon,” he murmured to her whimpered pleas.
“I want you ready.”
    Another finger joined the first, stretching
her, causing a twinge of discomfort before he began sliding them up
and down, in and out, in much the same way he’d pushed his cock in
her mouth. The rhythm of fucking.
    Anxiety tightened her stomach. His cock was
much wider and longer than his two fingers. Would it hurt? Was all
the pleasure to be had on the outside of her body? Why did her quim
long to be filled?
    Grayson released her mouth and dipped his
head to sip her nipple between his lips, drawing on it, and she no
longer cared about the possibility of pain, only wanted his sex
inside her, showing her what pleasure he could. She threaded her
fingers through his hair, holding him to her breast, parting her
legs wider. He rewarded her by sweeping his thumb over the little
button of pleasure, and she pushed against his hand, taking now
three fingers deeper into her. He rubbed his cock against her thigh
and she shifted toward it.
    “Please, Grayson. Please.”
    He lifted his head from her breast and
removed his touch from between her legs as he moved over her,
kneeling between her legs, the rough hair of his thighs brushing
against the tender insides of hers. She held her breath as he
positioned the broad head of his cock against her entrance, then he
swept her hair back from her face as he pressed forward, stretching
her, filling her, and once the pinch of discomfort eased, stroking
against sensitive spots she didn’t know she had.
    “Sarah?” he asked, his voice strangled as he
looked into her eyes.
    She realized then that she wasn’t breathing
and quickly took a breath before nodding and tightening her legs
about his hips, pushing hers into his, testing his depth, his
breadth. His breath hitched and he drew back slowly, the drag of
his erection along her inner walls exquisite pleasure. Her muscles
clenched, holding him inside, and he slid deeper, the hair at the
base of his cock pressing against her tender folds. He rolled
against her, so deep inside her body he took her breath away. She
tightened her grip on his shoulders and looked up into his green
eyes, saw the patience, the desire as he moved over her, in
her.
    Then he lowered his mouth to her neck, to her
collarbone, his soft lips and beginning of his beard such a jarring
contrast, and her skin was so tender, each rasp sent another pulse
of arousal to her sex, tightening her around him, making her
slicker. He coursed down the slope of one breast to take her nipple
into his mouth, his tongue rubbing, lips drawing. She arched toward
him, wanting more. He closed his teeth over the tip and she gasped,
gliding her hands down his back to hold him closer. He released her
breast and rose over her again, his strokes increasing in speed,
pushing deeper and deeper into her. The intensity of the pleasure
increased, but like before, something was missing. She wanted to
climax, and the way his cock filled her—and seemed to grow inside
her—was exciting, and felt so good. The way he kissed her skin felt
so good. The way his sweat-slickened skin rubbed over hers felt so
good. But maybe there was something she was supposed to be doing to
bring about her own completion.
    As if he