Preferably on his tongue.
But that would have to be all.
He sucked hard on her nipple, and she mewled, and then her fingers were in his hair, sliding through it. Her nails were on his scalp, a delicate abrasion he did not think he could ever get enough of. He blew on her nipple, then caught it between his teeth and tugged.
That made her gasp his name. “Rand.”
God, yes.
He liked that. And so did she. He did it again. And then he did it to her other nipple as well while he rolled the abandoned bud under his thumb. She thrust her hips beneath him, as if seeking to be nearer. It drove the moist heat of her cunny into the fall of his breeches. Into his desperately straining cockstand. And she was so wet, her dew coated him, sinking through the fine fabric of his breeches. He rolled his hips against hers in response, grinding himself into her core as he sucked her nipple.
“Rand,” she cried out.
The sound of his name in her dulcet voice made him harder still. He jerked into her, wondering how the hell he would ever make it through the night without sinking home inside her.
You cannot, he reminded himself.
She is an innocent.
An innocent he would dearly love to debauch, completely and thoroughly. In every way. He wanted to claim all of her. To make her his. To keep her beneath him, at his seductive mercy, to make her body on fire for him. To make her weak with desire.
But that was not to be.
She was his feigned betrothed. He was not going to marry her. He was only going to make her come, and then spend the rest of the night alone in his chamber, stroking himself into oblivion on thoughts of what might have been.
She moaned, her hips twitching. She was thrusting her cunny into his cock in a parody of lovemaking.
And if he did not take care, he was going to spend in his breeches like a callow youth without ever even tasting her there.
Or worse, they would get caught. How could he have known his Grace would be so ravenous, so responsive, so noisy?
HisGrace?
The possessiveness he felt for her was absurd, and it distracted him long enough to allow her nipple to fall from his hungry lips. What the devil was he thinking? Had all the blood in his body rushed to his swiving-starved cock? He had not had a woman in…God’s blood, he could not recall how long it had been.
He had parted ways with his last mistress and had fallen prey to ennui.
An ennui which was nowhere to be found tonight, in Grace Winter’s bed. He had to taste her now, he knew, before he lost what little control he had over himself. He kissed his way down her body, caressing her everywhere as he went. The flare of her hips was a miracle. Her pale thighs were soft and supple beneath his hands and already parted as he worked himself there.
“Rand?” she asked. “What are you…”
He kissed her inner thigh. “Hush, Grace love.”
He kissed the other thigh. Gently guided her legs farther apart. She was perfect there, pink too, a silken patch of auburn curls covering her mound. The bud of her sex was engorged, taunting him. Her scent reached him, flowers and woman. Sweetness and spice.
And he could not delay.
He lowered his head and flicked his tongue over her pearl. Gentle, rapid swipes at first, lapping at her, finding the most sensitive place.
“Oh,” she keened, her thighs clamping on his head.
She did not need to try to keep him there. He was not going anywhere. Not until she was shaking and crying out and spending. He wanted to make her wild with need. To work her into such a frenzy, she came so hard she saw stars. That frantic thought foremost in his mind, he sucked hard on her pearl.
Sucked until she was bucking beneath him, shaking and crying out. She was spending already. Over the edge with the wildness of her release. He had not imagined she would be so quick to come, but since she had been, he would treat her to another.
With great pleasure.
Rand licked down her slit. She tasted so good. Better than the most decadent dessert. And the sounds she was making, the shudders rolling through her body, the thrusts of her hips, were building to a frantic crescendo inside him. He could not control himself. He was out of his mind for her.
