Free Reconstructing Meredith by Lauren Gallagher Page A

enjoyed this, but in her mind, she’d lost. She’d tried to get past an obstacle, and though she’d made headway, it wasn’t enough for her. She was too proud, too strong, to accept that kind of defeat.
    “Let me taste you again,” I whispered.
    She looked at me with wide eyes. “But I…”
    “I want to taste your pussy again.” I leaned down to kiss her neck. Then I whispered in her ear, “You just don’t know how much that turns me on.”
    She shivered, but she was still tense.
    “If you want me to stop again, I promise I will.” I raised my head again. “You know I’ll stop if you ask me to.”
    She held my gaze.
    I swallowed hard. Give me another chance to help you get past this .
    Finally, she gave a single, slow nod.
    Relief and arousal alike rushed through me. “Just say the word,” I said. “All you have to do is say stop. You remember your safe words?”
    “Red to stop, yellow to back off.”
    “Good.” I kissed her again and withdrew. She shivered, but didn’t protest while I trailed soft kisses down her neck and chest. I continued down, down, down, moving slowly enough to keep from unsettling her, giving her time to get used to me, to voice second thoughts if they came to her.
    If they came to her, she didn’t make them known. I kissed her hipbone, then her inner thigh, glancing up at her in case there was any apprehension on her face, and there was. Worry creased her forehead. Her eyes were screwed shut, her lips pressed together in a thin, pale line.
    “Do you want me to stop?” I asked.
    “No,” she breathed, and the creases in her forehead diminished slightly. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”
    Without another word—but with a silent prayer that I could help her over, past, through this wall—I went down on her again.
    Even the faint hint of bitterness from the condom couldn’t take away from the sweetness of her pussy, and before long, even that was gone, leaving me with only the sweet, heady taste of her . The tension in her body language wasn’t so quick to melt away, but after a few minutes, melt away it did. She relaxed enough to let my fingers slide easily in and out of her. Her own fingers alternately combed through my hair and clawed at the bedsheets. Her breathing eased into an uneven rhythm of gasps and sighs.
    Her back arched and I laid my arm across her hips again to hold her steady. Minute by minute, she gave in a little more. Closer and closer, letting herself go a little at a time. Her hips squirmed beneath my arm and her spine lifted off the bed. The whimper that escaped her lips was strained. Choked. Her pussy tightened. Her breathing quickened.
    My heart pounded. Yes, baby, come. Let yourself go .
    She exhaled hard and her body relaxed suddenly. The breath she released this time was a hiss of frustration, of defeat. She’d let herself get right to the edge, then pulled back. Fear, apprehension, something had drawn her away from it.
    I didn’t relent with mouth or fingers, though. I had all the time in the world to coax her back to the brink, and if she didn’t want to give up, neither did I.
    She fought me—no, the demons of her past, not me—every step of the way. One moment, she pressed her pussy against me, silently demanding more. The next, she drew back just slightly. More, less, more, less. Her breathing would become rapid and shallow, coming in sharp gasps as she squeezed my fingers and inched that. Much. Closer .
    Then she’d relax again. A sigh would escape her lips, and we’d begin that climb, that dance, once again. My jaw was tired and my neck ached, but I refused to stop until she told me to or she came, whichever happened first.
    “Oh my God, Scott,” she moaned. The hand in my hair twitched and trembled. Every stroke with my fingers was more difficult than the last as she squeezed them harder, and her hips tried to buck against my arm, but I held her still, held her steady, and kept teasing her clit and G-spot.
    She