Butterfly by Nelle L’Amour
CHAPTER 42
Sofi
“Butterfly, we’re going to take it slow and steady,” Roman whispers against my neck as he peels off my clothing piece by piece. Until I’m standing stark naked before him in his candlelit bedroom.
To be honest, I thought we’d be tearing our clothes off in a frenzy of mad passion and desire, but Roman has choreographed a different scenario. As if he premeditated it. As if we have all the time in the world.
A bone-chilling mixture of excitement and apprehension sweeps through me. Caught in the crossfire of fear and desire, I visibly shake. I’ve never been with a man before, let alone a man like him, so virile and powerful. So commanding and passionate.
One question looms: Should I tell him?
Still fully clothed, he crouches down and studies my body, his good eye smoldering as it travels upward, taking in every square inch of my flesh. He plants a soft kiss on each of my feet, then slowly his large warm hands glide up my legs like I’m made of the world’s finest fabric. Goose bumps explode on my skin at his touch. Still caressing me, he rises until we’re again facing each other, bathed in the candlelight. A dazzling smile, one of awe and lust, lifts his lips.
“So, so beautiful.” He frees my hair so it cascades down my back, and showers my shoulders with a flutter of kisses. “Undress me.”
My fingers, quivering with nerves, burning with urgency, unbuckle his belt as he lifts his cashmere sweater over his head and kicks off his shoes.
“Good, baby.” Baby. “Now unbutton my pants and pull down my fly.” It takes everything I have to pull my eyes off his chest, a vision of sculpted beauty. And his equally magnificent arms.
Trembling and feverish, I fumble and finally manage to get the button through the hole. Without overthinking it, I pull down his fly. The hiss of the zipper sends a chill down my spine.
“Butterfly, I want you to feel what you do to me.”
Nuzzling my neck, he lowers his pants and guides my hands below his waist. Beneath his black silk briefs, I feel his arousal. A bulge so big, so heated, my fingertips burn. I long for him to be inside me, but trepidation creeps into my bloodstream. I don’t look down.
“R-Roman, I’m a—”
“Shh,” he says like he’s read my mind. He silences me with a tender kiss on my lips. Somehow, this loving gesture is like a balm, and I feel myself calm when he slips his hand between my thighs. And caresses my sex.
“So hot, so wet. So perfect . . . ”
So reverent. Melting, I let him haul me into him. He kisses me everywhere he can before his fingers move to my clit. Rubbing it. Circling it. Harder and faster.
How could anything feel so good and unbearable at the same time? My back arches and I moan his name.
“Let yourself go. Stay in the moment and set yourself free, my sweet beautiful butterfly.”
I nod like a bobble head doll. My breaths come out in gasps and pants. One hand grips my lucky butterfly pendant, the other his hard-as-enamel cock. My orgasm takes flight.
“Roman, I’m going to come!” I cry out.
Then, just as my release takes hold of me, he slides a long finger inside me. I hear him hiss as it blissfully fills me. Still rubbing my clit vigorously, he pumps me slowly, methodically, each thrust going deeper, hitting a hypersensitive spot I never knew I had. Holding on to his shoulders, I begin to shriek.
“Relax, baby. Relax,” he coaxes, his voice tender and encouraging.
An intense fluttering sensation that feels like a swarm of butterflies inside me overtakes me. I start to convulse. Fall apart around his fingers—the one gliding in and out of me, the other circling my nub. I dig my fingernails into his biceps, crying out my release.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”