Page 80 of Trove’s Purpose

It was all carefully planned and calculated on his end. Her nerves would be up now. And those nerves would make it harder for her to relax and enjoy his touch. Which, in turn, would make it harder for her to actually feel any pleasure from this experience. If he rushed, if he grabbed for her, if he met her uncertainty with burning passion, he’d overwhelm her.

But if he took his time, if he nurtured the fires of her desire like a hesitant, flickering flame into a burning, blazing wildfire, she’d come apart in his hands. She’d sing for him. She’d scream for him. She would be his to control and command and direct.

He controlled her pleasure, and through that he controlled her.

It was practiced, calculated, easy.

Trove kept her focused on the feel of his lips as he kissed along her inner wrist. Distracting her from the way his other hand snuck around the back of her dress and pressed the seal. So, when it loosened around her, it was almost a surprise.

When she jumped and immediately grabbed the falling fabric, holding it to her chest to protect her modesty, he allowed her to do so. And in exchange, he took her by the face and kissed her. Claiming her lips, controlling their kiss. Distracting her again, tracing his tongue against her lips until slowly, hesitantly, she opened to him. All the while, his hands were moving back, getting lost in the wild, loose curls of her hair. He freed the strands from their loose confines, setting them free and massaging her scalp. Keeping all of her focus above her neck so she forgot that, with her dress undone, she was nearly naked in front of a stranger for the first time.

It was all so familiar.

But still different and new.

Because this wasn’t an uneasy sex worker, new to the business, who the others had set up with him so he could ease her into the life.

This was Chee. His Chee. Truly untouched but deserving of all the pleasure his hands could give. She didn’t taste like other females. She didn’t feel like other females.

He… honestly didn’t expect that.

Like a sparkling liquor, dancing upon his tongue, the taste of her made him drunk. He sought to drink more from her as he tried to remember to keep his hands moving. To never let her get used to something so her thoughts could arise and sabotage his attempts at relaxing and arousing her at the same time.

Not that it was any great hardship to touch her. He found it harder to keep his hands under control. To keep them following his planned path because they kept itching to move everywhere, to touch her everywhere. To feel more of her softness. Her roughness. Her anything. He didn’t care, so long as it was her under his palms.

It was strange.

He had never experienced that with any other female before. Sure, they were soft. But there wasn’t really an urge to keep touching them. No great effort to restrain himself to the paths he knew would bring him what he wanted.

There was even an interesting edge of enjoyment to this that he didn’t expect. Almost fun. Feeling the way she shivered. Hearing the way she moaned. The pressure of her leaning against him. The hesitancy but bravery in her touch as she cautiously reached for him all made him shiver.

With unease.

Reaching down, he took hold of her waist and lifted her up and into his bed. Without breaking the kiss, he lowered her down. She grabbed onto his shoulders, and that was okay, because that was just for stability. And he didn’t mind her stabilizing herself against him.

But when she tried to caress him in turn…

Taking her by the wrists, he brought her hands to his lips and, against, kissed them reverently. He gave her a smile as he placed them onto the bed beside her head.

“Keep these here,” he ordered, pleased by the expression he found on her face. Breathless, lips puffy, cheeks red, eyes glistening.

“But…” she tried to protest, her breast heaving.

“I know.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But you’re learning to accept my touch, not your own. So, keep your hands away from us both. Just feel. That’s all you need to do. Accept this pleasure I give you.”

It was a bedroom game, and not an uncommon one. She hesitated only a moment before nodding and turning her hands, gripping his blanket tightly. A means of keeping her hands where he had placed them.

Good. Now, he could focus.

With her arms up and out of the way, there was nothing to keep her loosened dress on any longer. He slowly pulled on the hem, kissing and adoring each new piece of skin exposed to his mouth until he came to her nipple.

Small, dark, and already pointed. Begging for attention that he was all too happy to give. A twist of his tongue, a hint of his teeth, until he figured out exactly how she liked to be touched. Using her reactions, her sounds, to fine tune his technique until he had her squirming and pressing her body up against him. Silently begging him for more.

He had her primed. Out of her head. Focused only on him, on the feelings he was creating in her. He had control over her. He had control over her pleasure, and so he controlled her.

And the more pleasure she experienced, the more control he had.

While he played with her breasts, teasing and pulling at her nipples, he used his free hand to slowly pull her dress down and off her body. Distracting her, again, keeping her focus only on her feelings and away from her newly exposed body.