Chapter 215: Heart Attack (3)
Ella’s POV
I’m wrecked. Utterly, hopelessly wrecked.
The second Liam tugged down the strap of my dress, I swear my soul just left my body and floated straight to heaven. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might actually break free from my chest.
And then... God help me, he did it again. His hand slid lower, barer, bolder, until I felt his touch on my breast without a single layer in between. My whole body trembled at the shock of it.
He finally pulled away from my lips, only to trail kisses down my neck. His mouth was hot, intoxicating, leaving sparks that spread like wildfire across my skin. When his other hand pulled the other strap of my dress down, both of my breasts were bared to him, and I nearly died from the sensation of exposure.
"Damn... you’re so soft and full, Ella," he murmured, his voice rough with awe as his fingers teased over me.
I bit my lip, desperate to hold back the sound threatening to escape, but then his tongue flicked over my nipple before his mouth closed around it. A strangled moan tore from me anyway, my back arching on instinct.
His other hand cupped and squeezed my other breast, kneading me with a hunger that made my pulse stutter. My hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tight as if I could anchor myself when he was the very storm consuming me.
He didn’t stop there. He gave each of my breasts equal attention, and I swear I was losing my mind. My thoughts scattered like confetti, my brain completely useless as the sensations took over.
When he sucked harder, even nipping at me with just enough bite to sting, I gasped. The sharp mix of pain and pleasure shot through me, something I’d never experienced before—something that made me crave more.
"God, Ella... you’re so sensitive. And I’m loving every second of it," he murmured against my skin before his mouth found mine again. His kiss was urgent, demanding, and even though I was already breathless, I let him claim me, melting into the fire he poured into me.
Then his hand moved lower. Slowly. Teasingly. Grazing along my sides, sliding down to my hips, then my thigh.
My heart nearly stopped.
Goddamn. This is it. It’s really happening.
I tried to get a grip, to stop myself from spiraling into wild fantasies, but the second his hand pressed between my legs, all my efforts shattered. Even through the thin barrier still covering me, I felt it—his thumb rubbing against me, drawing tight, torturous circles.
It was like every nerve in my body had rushed there at once, and I couldn’t hold back the shudder that ran through me.
He pulled my panties aside, and the second his finger brushed me there so lightly, almost teasing, I swore it felt like the air was punched right out of my lungs. My chest tightened, my breath caught without permission, and my eyes fluttered shut.
"You’re so wet, Ella," Liam murmured, his voice low, intoxicating, and definitely arousing. "If you’re like this... I’d assume you do want me. You want this." His finger stroked me slowly, spreading my wetness like he owned me.
"I-I do... w-want you," I stammered, my voice breaking under the storm of nerves and heat crashing through me. Embarrassment burned my cheeks, but there was no denying it—I wanted him. I didn’t want him to stop.
A smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes locked on me as his fingers picked up their pace, each movement drawing me tighter, hotter.
My face must have been crimson from how overwhelming it felt. "D-Don’t look at me like that... It’s embarrassing," I whispered, trying to hide my flushed expression.
For a fleeting second, his brows knit like he didn’t want me to hide from him. Then, before I could process it, he slid one finger inside me.
"Ahhh!" The cry ripped out of me before I could stop it, raw and helpless. My hands flew up, instinctively covering my mouth, but it was too late—he already heard the moan that betrayed just how undone I was becoming under his touch.
His finger froze inside me like a parked car, perfectly still, and for a split second the world narrowed to that impossible hush. Air snagged in my throat.
"Wait... Ella, don’t tell me this is your first time?" His voice trembled with something I hadn’t expected... A raw, urgent panic under the surface.
My face burned. I couldn’t meet his eyes, and I looked away.
"Y-yes," I whispered, the word barely out. "Is that... that bad?"
"No. Gods, no." He pulled his hand out and sat up beside me as if the motion could steady us both.
I scrambled to pull my dress back up over my chest, suddenly acutely aware of my skin and the small space between us.
He sounded frantic in the best way. "I don’t want to—I don’t want to take your first if you were saving it for something sacred like marriage. I wouldn’t do that to you." His hands were gentle when they found my shoulders, grounding me.
"I don’t have a plan like that," I said, cheeks hot. The words tumbled out of me faster now, relief and shame tangled together. "It’s just that... I never had a boyfriend. I was a scholarship kid—all study, school, and the garden. Georgia and I... We were the weird ones who didn’t fit in. After graduation, it was all work, helping my parents, paying for my siblings’ tuition. I didn’t have time... or maybe I didn’t make time."
He listened intently, which I appreciated. When I kept talking, the words came easier. "Now my business is steadier. Two of my siblings have part-time jobs. I’ve been... living a little. I’ve liked some men before, but it never stuck. With you, it’s different. You feel like home. I don’t doubt what I feel for you."
He exhaled, a laugh that sounded like half disbelief and half worship. "I’m your first?" he breathed, then wrapped his arms around me like he was afraid to let me go.
We stayed like that, pressed together, my face tucked against his chest, and for the first time, the shame slid away a little. In its place was a softness I hadn’t expected: relief, protectiveness, a queasy, giddy happiness that felt like sunlight through a window.
"We’ll figure it out," he murmured into my hair. "No rush. We’ll learn each other. I want this to be ours, not rushed, not ruined. I want it to be special." His voice was steady, and I believed him.
I nodded into his chest and let the steady beat of his heart calm my own frantic rhythm. We had agreed to know each other better, to be honest, to be gentle. Vulnerability tasted like trust, and in that quiet, breathless room I felt something new and fierce take root: not just desire, but the beginning of something that might really last.