His thumb pressed lightly over the aching bundle of nerves through the soaked lace, circling once, twice—so excruciatingly slow it made her whimper—but never enough to satisfy the ache building inside her.
“Please…” she whispered, unable to stop herself.
His lips curved against her skin.
Still, he didn’t yield.
Instead, he pushed the lace aside and pressed a single finger against her bare, slick folds, parting her, teasing her, his breath a low growl as he found her so warm, soready.
His finger slid inside—one deep, devastating stroke—before retreating to circle her again. And again. Followed only by his tongue.
Pleasure coiled tighter.
She writhed, trying to find her release, to chase that sharp edge of bliss he kept just out of reach.
But he wouldn’t give it to her.
Not until she broke.
Not until sheshatteredfor him.
When he thrust his fingers deeper, pressing his tongue firmly against her pearl and curling just so, the pressure was too much. The coil inside her snapped, her body arching violently as she climaxed with a cry, the pleasure so sharp it almost hurt, rippling through her in wave after wave as he worked her through it, holding her still as she came undone beneath him.
The spike of pleasured pain had him holding her fast on the rug, causing her to squirm in agonizing pleasure.
“Edward…” she finally whispered when it was all over, her body trembling in the aftermath, “…you are still… burgeoned.”
“I know, sweet,” he murmured against her belly, the heat in his voice still raw, still aching. “And you can help me out with that.”
Her eyes searched for his. “How?”
Shifting off her, he untied his robe and unfastened the fall of his trousers. Alice’s breath caught as he pulled out his manhood: clasping the thick root, the upthrust shaft visibly pulsed and strained against the confines of his fist.
“Touch me,” he commanded. “I want to feel you.”
Her breath caught as he wrapped her hand around his rampant arousal, her fingers barely circling the thick, heavy stalk. His hand closed over hers, tightening her hold on him, urging a fierce new, ferocious rhythm.
She ran her fingertips over him and swiped her thumb over the wide tip, and satiny moisture seeped from the tiny hole at its center. “Am I doing this right?”
“Perfect, sweetheart,” he allowed. “Tighten your fist, stroke me harder.” His abdomen flexed under her ministrations while his head lolled back and pure pleasure marked every line in his face. “God, I love your hands on me.”
She pumped with both fists, lingering at the engorged crown when that seemed to enhance his delight. Moisture leaked from the slit in the tip, lubricating her touch, making him groan aloud.
Edward reached out, grabbed the back of her neck, and crushed her lips to his again, her hand slamming down at the same time as he thrust up. The pressure inside him surged as heat sizzled up his shaft; he groaned into her mouth as he exploded, his seed a hot geyser against her palm.
He sprawled back against the rug like a ragdoll but pulled her tight to his side. With the musk of their intimacy lingering in the air, he pressed his nose into her hair.
Alice’s breath skittered over his cheek as she fixed him and his trousers to rights. “It is moments like this that make me think….”
“Think what?” He angled his head.
Her words were hesitant, as if she were about to bare her deepest, darkest secret. “That I will forever be yours.”
His chest tightened. As usual, he struggled to put into words what he felt. He settled for, “Good, because you are.”
She perked her head up. “What?”
“Marry me.”
