After what might have been a few seconds, or thirty minutes, he stretched out to his full length beside me on the bed, a crooked, self-satisfied smile on his lips.
“I want to do that to you every day for as long as you’ll let me,” he murmured against the top of my head.
I giggled, feeling utterly spent and lighter than air.
I rolled over and burrowed my face into his chest. “I’m so glad you’ve come around.”
He chuckled, then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Me, too.”
* * *
I startled awake sometime later, not having realized I’d dozed off. Frederick was walking towards me with a glass of water, a small smile on his lips.
He sat beside me on his bed. “Here,” he said, offering me the glass. “In case you’re thirsty.”
I was. “Thanks.” I took the water from him, taking a sip before setting it on the bedside table. “How long was I sleeping?”
“Not long. Maybe fifteen minutes.”
I shifted a little beneath the duvet. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was using his chest as a pillow, his arms wrapped around me. He must have covered me with the duvet when he left the room.
Tenderness flooded me. I reached up and cupped his face in my hand. He sighed, his stubble rough against my palm as he leaned into my touch.
Only then did I notice that his jeans were tented with what must have been an extremely uncomfortable—and massive—erection.
Given his recent confession about his relationship to fruit, I was tempted to make a wildly inappropriate Is that a conjured banana in your pocket? joke. But I didn’t. Because for one thing, he’d just given me one of the most mind-meltingly incredible orgasms of my life, and teasing him felt like a mean way to repay him. For another, I knew full well that his pants situation was due entirely to the fact that, yes—he was happy to see me.
I trailed my hand slowly down his chest, not stopping until I reached the waistband of his jeans. His stomach muscles rippled, tensing and flexing beneath my palm.
“Cassie,” he said, hoarsely, quickly covering my hand with his own to stop me. “Wait.”
Sitting up, I pressed a kiss to each corner of his mouth. He shuddered and let his head droop forward onto my shoulder.
“What is it?”
“I’ve never done . . . the rest of this before without . . .” He closed his eyes, unable or unwilling to look at me for what he was about to say. “Without blood being involved.”
My heart skipped, like, five beats.
“Oh.”
“Indeed.” He lifted his head and met my gaze. “It’s been over a hundred years since I’ve been intimate with someone. I’m out of practice, and I want you so badly. If you touch me, if we . . . continue this, I don’t know if I’ll have the self-control to go without once I’m . . . close to the end.” He fell back onto the pillows and let out an anguished breath. “I don’t know if I can do this without hurting you.”
From this vantage point I could now easily see the outline of his cock, fully erect and straining hard against the front of his jeans. I wanted to peel those jeans off and get a good look at him so badly I could taste it. I felt certain he could do this without hurting me. If he was going to lose control and take a bite when he shouldn’t, it would have happened long before now.
Suddenly, I had an idea.
“I know what I can do to help you stay in control.”
He cracked one eye and looked at me.
“What?”
Wordlessly, I began to undo the button of his jeans. His hands clamped down on mine like a vise.
“Cassie, wait—”
“Shhh,” I murmured, willing his panic to abate and nudging his hands away. I reached inside and gripped him in my hand, reveling in the way his breath caught and his head fell back on the pillow.
My heartbeat quickened. He was big—which, yes, I’d already anticipated. But it was one thing to see the outline and general shape of a guy’s dick when he was still wearing clothes—and entirely another when you had it in your hands.
“What are you doing?” His voice was low, his dark eyes dazed and incredulous.
He was so beautiful, and vulnerable, in that moment. I wanted to make him feel as good as he’d just made me feel.
“This,” I said, before leaning over and taking him into my mouth.
I half expected him to protest again, but he didn’t. He fell back against the pillows with a rough groan, hands balled up into fists and pressed into his eyes.