She wrapped her hand about his, learning the pressure, the rhythm. “May I?”
He released his grip at once.
Her fingers closed about his hot, hard flesh as she did her best to match his motions exactly.
A guttural sound escaped his throat. He reached for her, cupping the sides of her face and pressing his lips to hers, consuming her in a ferocious kiss.
“If there’s more to unwrap,” he gasped against her mouth, “we should do it soon.”
He was right. She swallowed her fears, then released his shaft from her grasp. “My chemise, if you would, please?”
Did she sound hesitant? She never sounded hesitant. But her voice had wobbled the tiniest bit. This was the first time she hoped a passionate encounter would be the start of many more just like it. That she would meet or exceed his expectations, causing him to not only devour her now, but hunger for more.
Stephen began at her ankles, lifting her shift a fraction at a time and kissing each new inch of flesh he bared. By the time he reached her thighs, she was ready to rend the garment from her body with her bare hands or forgo its removal altogether. But the hem crept ever higher, over her hips, up over her abdomen. The kisses never ceased, continuing over every hill and crease with the same lazy savoring.
By the time his mouth reached her breasts, she’d forgotten she’d ever been self-conscious at all. She grabbed his hair and held him to her bosom as he licked and suckled and teased.
He sat up to tug her chemise over her head, dislodging her hand from his hair. This time, he forgot about folding the garment carefully. Instead, the chemise fell to the floor atop his fallen waistcoat, to be equally forgotten, as he returned his mouth to her breast.
She propped herself up and fumbled for his trousers. Alreadyunbuttoned, they hung loose on his hips, and took no persuasion at all to slide down his muscular legs and join the other garments on the floor.
Stephen pressed hot, urgent kisses all the way up her chest, along her throat, to her mouth. “Now what?”
She widened her legs so that his hips fell between her thighs. “Now I want you inside me.”
He kissed her. “With pleasure.”
She arched a brow. “You’re not going to ask if I’m certain? Or give the traditional sanctimonious speech about my future husband’s expectations of a virginal bride?”
“And risk a beheading? When has Beth the Berserker evernotbeen certain about what she wants? Or at all concerned about how self-important men think women ought to behave?”
“What about whatyouthink?”
“If I haven’t been clear, I think you should have anything you want. And if what you want is my cock inside of you”—Stephen affected a pious expression—“then, as a personal favor, from one friend to another…”
She pinched his nipple. “Too much talking.”
“Let me fix that.” He lowered his mouth to hers and positioned himself between her legs.
She was already damp and slick and very eager. In a single thrust, he was in. She held on tight and gripped his hips with her thighs, their kisses frantic as their bodies met again and again. Soon, she was so close—but not quite there.
“I want to be on top,” she breathed against his jaw.
Without hesitation, they rolled over so that he was on his back.
She bent her legs into a comfortable seated position where she could easily control the speed of their rhythm, and the depth of penetration. She was also no longer partially concealed by the blanketof his body. Now, all of her was completely on full display to him. They could both watch as their bodies merged, retreated, and merged again.
She met his eyes. “I’ll give you one guess whatIwould have done with my hand and my body, had you left when I suggested it.”
A smile lit his handsome face. “I don’t want to guess. Show me.”
She slid her hand to where their bodies joined and rubbed the slick, sensitive spot she knew would tilt her over the edge. Her hips rocked as her fingers circled.
His hands gripped her hips, digging into the soft flesh as his shaft surged within her. “Do you like this?”
“I’m at one hundred and ten percent and climbing,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
There it was; the peak she had been searching for. One hundred and fifty, one hundred and eighty, two hundred percent and bursting into a thousand fragments of pure pleasure.
