At that, he shot her a grin that was pure sinful heat. “All I needed to hear is that you want me.” He put the car into gear. “Buckle up, babe. Let’s get home.”
In his sunshine-yellow bedroom, Eamonn helped Nell take off her t-shirt, easing it over the newly tattooed shoulder and lifting it straight up so she wouldn’t have to bend or twist her back. Then he stripped down to his boxer briefs and flopped onto the bed, grinning at her, cupping his obvious erection through the cotton with one hand and patting the bed beside him with the other. “How d’you want to do this?”
“I…” She looked at the bed, and at him. “Being on top takes more hip action than I can manage tonight, and… lying down, I move around too much when I’m on my side, so I have to be pretty much flat on my back with something wedged under for support…” The obvious conclusion was inescapable and added an unaccustomed edge of vulnerability to her wanting him. She’d never accepted a passive position, always able to control their movement, always taking an active part in arriving at their mutual pleasure. Never pinned down.
It took him only a moment to reach the same conclusion. He gazed up at her, his expression taut, his eyes so dilated with desire that they appeared darker than their usual blue. “Are you going to let me climb on top of you tonight?”
She hadn’t expected it to be that much of a turn-on for him. He liked a little bit of power exchange with his lovemaking — that had become clear enough, since telling him firmly what to do or what she needed could bring him to a point of helpless urgency — but she’d assumed he only went for the more submissive side of things. Apparently, though, it worked both ways for him, and the unexpected switch gave her a disturbing thrill of anticipation, an uncertain melting feeling that was unwelcome but not entirely unexpected. The idea of giving up control to him should not be so appealing. And yet, she was drawn to it, moth to flame.
With a small nod, she undressed down to her underpants and got onto the bed, carefully settling onto her back and adjusting the pillow under her head.
He stroked a hand down her belly to the waistband of her boyshorts and pinged it gently against her skin. “You said you needed something for support under your back. Take these off, and I’ll get you a towel.”
Ooh, he has an assertive mode! She hadn’t seen that in him before — cocky and flirtatious, yes, but never with such a commanding tone. Interesting… and reassuring. She didn’t always find it easy to let go of the instructor role and be fully a student, but that was necessary in order to train to a higher level, and there was a certain kind of peace in obeying commands. Could it be the same with a lover I trust? As he vanished into the bathroom for a moment, she gingerly inched the underwear down over her hips.
Eamonn returned at almost the same moment that Nell realized she was stuck. The sore muscles in her back protested any attempt to raise her legs, lift her hips, or curl to the side to get her underpants off. If she’d been standing, gravity would have done the job. As it was, she couldn’t push the stretchy cotton past her fingertips’ reach where it constrained her upper thighs. Crap.
He saw the problem immediately and tried not to laugh, but she could see it in his eyes. “Nobody’s perfect all the time,” she said. The grin he’d tried to suppress spread across his face like sun from behind clouds, and she contemplated wrenching herself up through the pain so she could flip him and pin him down.
“No,” he agreed. “That’s true. But you? You’re pretty close, most of the time.” He wedged the folded towel under her lower back, giving it some support, then ran a teasing hand over her upper thighs where her underwear had slid to a stop in its current partially lowered position. “And this? Sexy.”
She tried to part her legs further and couldn’t. Squirmed as his fingers brushed closer but still didn’t touch. The muscles in her back protested, and she winced.
“No moving.” He shook his head, teasing but also serious. “Neither of us is into pain, so you need to lie still, lovely. Let me do the work.”
“All right,” she gritted out, refusing to add sir although it was there in her mind.
He placed his free hand firmly on her abdomen to hold her steady, and then at last his fingers dipped down to stroke her where she needed it, slowly, far too slowly, but still blissful.
Her hips tilted a little to get more and his hand stilled, denying her.
“You’re freaking killing me,” she muttered.
He laughed, all too pleased with himself, cocking an eyebrow at her impatience. “Just relax. I’ll get you there.”
He continued his slow, tantalizing strokes — not fast enough or deep enough to satisfy her. The underwear binding her thighs prevented her from spreading them to get more of his touch. Her various aches receded in a haze of wanton urgency, and a wordless growl of frustration escaped her before he finally helped her kick her underwear away.
By the time he rolled the condom on and settled himself over her, she’d almost lost the capacity for coherent thought. His weight and strength on top of her invited an emotional surrender and relinquishing of power she wasn’t sure she was ready to give.
“You’re safe with me, Nella-bella,” he reminded her, his voice low and thick with desire, then he chuckled affectionately. “And anyway, I’m pretty sure you could still kill me from there. But just… lie back and let me love you,
