With held breath, she slid down his shaft, taking him in, inch by inch, her mouth against his neck, impaling herself on him.
She feltso…damn…good.
He held tight onto her hips, keeping the rhythm steady and measured as they began to move together. He wanted to savor every second…every stroke.
Even as he felt the familiar tightening that preceded release.
No.
Slow…measured…
Sweat trickled down the hollow of his spine, down the center of her chest, as he sensed a release of tension within her—her body’s instinctual recognition that there would be no pain in this coupling, only pleasure.
Given that permission, he loosened his hold a degree and sank himself deeper into her.
She was ready.
She gasped. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
Together, they established a rhythm of give and take as she moved on him, seeking and discovering the pleasures to be had from one another’s bodies.
Except this was something more than two bodies given over to lust and stealing pleasure and delight from one another.
Oh, there was pleasure and delight, but there was also intensity and intimacy of the sort that reached down into a soul.
A tup with this woman was more than a tup.
It was…
Something more.
The movements of her hips became more centered, focused…the sighs and moans and cries pouring from her mouth sharper. Urgency had begun pulling at her. There was yet more her body wanted from his.
And he would give it to her.
Here was a Beatrix he hadn’t yet known.Wild…untamed…free. No shadow or reserve about her as she rode him and took what she needed. Her head tossed back, she cried out, release taking her of a sudden, her sweet quim pulsing around him.
Then he, too, could take no more of this exquisite torture and followed her over the edge, only lifting her off his shaft as he began to spill, taking himself in hand, his gaze upon her as he stroked himself to completion on a guttural shout.
As he collapsed back against the headboard, he reached for her, pulling her into his side, her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder as they hung above the bounds of the physical for a span of time that couldn’t be accounted for.
He stroked her hair, and her fingertips lightly traced across his chest. “It was better the second time,” she said in that direct way of hers.
He experienced the great satisfaction of redemption. “It tends to get better and better as you learn what your body likes and the likes of your?—”
“Lover?”
He nodded.
This was no way to be talking. A future of them discovering the hidden pleasures of one another’s bodies wasn’t part of their arrangement. This night had been born of a specific madness that would dissipate with the morning light.
“Sleep,” he said—though he knew he wouldn’t.
His mind raced into the small hours of morning.
They’d becomesomething more.
Something ill-defined.
