But his eyes were not holding hers, for they were traineddown there.
‘Looking at you,’ Galen said. ‘God, Roula...’
A part of her wanted to close her knees, unused to this, and yet there was something in his voice that made her tremble inside, and the light touch of his fingers had her curious for a little more of the feelings he evoked.
He swore, but gently and nicely. As if his own pleasure was somewhat inconvenient. As if he liked doing this—stroking the little knot she’d never even known was there.
Roula found she was tense with delicious conflict as he slid his fingers inside her. This strange push-pull feeling was consuming her, making her just a little dizzy as he stroked her, and then she was a touch bewildered as he lowered his head, because certainly her thighs had never been kissed before.
Nor licked.
And as his fingers slid inside her he kissed the most tender flesh of her upper thigh, and her bottom started to lift towards his hand.
She was caving in to the pleasure building—and then she sobbed in frustration when he removed that skilled hand.
‘Galen...’ Confusion reigned for a moment as he slid further down the bed. ‘Whatare you doing?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Galen’s words were dark with sensual torment, but he frowned slightly, as if he’d registered the note of bewilderment in her voice. ‘Don’t you like...?’
Roula felt as if her heart was lodged in her throat as she realised he was about to go down on her with his mouth. She’d had no idea such a thing actually existed. Well, perhaps she’d got some idea from a couple of TV shows, but she’d always flicked them off.
‘Please...’ Roula said, because shewantedthe full Galen experience—honestly. She trusted him that much and he readily obliged. His fingers and his kisses had been enlightening, but his mouth made her feel as if she were chasing the eye of a storm. ‘Galen...’
It was too much, and at the same time not enough. It was as if his mouth was attached to her, not leaving her, and then she was lifting up on her elbows, watching his dark head between her legs, hearing the desirous noises he made.
Or was that her?
He moved her legs over his shoulders and Roula had a sudden urge to laugh—but then he moaned into her.
One hand was under her bottom, the other pressing her stomach. It was Roula trying to lift her hips up, except he kept pushing them down, and she fought it a little, crying and red from the exertion of going nowhere except to bliss as he tasted her deeper.
Roula came against his mouth and it shocked her that she might—that she could.
‘You taste amazing,’ he said, licking his lips, and then he came up on the bed and sort of crawled up to her, rolling her to her side. They faced each other as they had last night. And there was a question she couldn’t read in his eyes.
He took her hand. ‘Stop biting them,’ he said.
And then he moved her hand down and she closed her eyes, feeling his strength beneath her fingers.
‘It’s...’ She felt the silky skin, and the power of him, and shot bewildered eyes up to his.
She didn’t know what to do, Galen realised.
She felt him put his hand over hers and together they stroked him, and she was a mixture of desire and this deep pit of sadness, because she’d just never known anything like it before.
He was slippery in her hand and she let go, but then he moved down so that he was stroking himself, close to her.
‘Please...’ She was urgent. It was knotted desire and desperation, and there could be no halt in these proceedings.
They were side on, their legs scissored, knotted together as he slid in, and Roula closed her eyes as he filled her, so slowly she thought she might faint from the source of this pleasure.
‘Never stop,’ she said as she moved her hands up his chest and held his shoulders.
And he moved within her and she just watched him, felt him inside her, felt his heavy thigh over hers. Her hips started to move to meet his, in a motion that just came to her.
Then he moved, angled himself a little differently and drove deeper in.
‘There,’ she said.