“Put me inside you,” he told her, his voice low.
The decadent order sent a new frisson of desire straight through her, ending in a steady ache between her thighs. An ache that could only be assuaged in one way. She parted her legs more and guided him to the place where she wanted him most. The first touch of his tip to her entrance was incredible.
They moved together, and in the next breath, he was filling her. One thrust. Hard and delicious. She hummed her satisfaction. He guided her legs around his waist. The sensation was intense. He changed the angle of their bodies and slid deeper inside her.
His handsome face a study in intense restraint, he began moving. Her hands traveled every inch of him. Everywhere she could reach. The taut plane of his abdomen, the walled muscle of his chest, his shoulders, his biceps.
The rhythm he began was slow and exquisite.
Torturous.
“You feel so good,” he told her, wonder lacing his voice.
And she could understand that wonder, because it was unraveling inside her, all around her. Changing her.
She had thought she had experienced lovemaking in her past. But that had been nothing. Felix did not just take, he gave. He claimed her body as if he found her magnificent, as if he paid homage to her, as if her pleasure was the greatest gift.
“You feel wonderful,” she told him past the relentless pounding of her heart, past the increasingly ragged bursts of her breaths as they left her.
“Shall I go slow, darling?” he asked softly.
Darling.He had called her darling. Though it was but a common term of endearment, it crept inside her heart, and there it remained.
“Faster,” she said, raking her nails lightly over his upper arms. “More.”
“Bloody hell, you’ll be the death of me,” he said.
But then he obliged, quickening his pace, moving in and out of her in hard, frenzied strokes. It was good. So good. The pleasure was building inside her again, desire burning to a feverish crescendo.
She moved against him, angling, wanting all of him she could take. He was large, his cock filling her. Stretching her. She was flying then, soaring high. Bursts of pleasure shook her as she spent, arching her back and crying out his name.
Through it all, he kept thrusting. Tremors shook her, her sheath clamped on him, and still he moved, in and out, deeper, harder. He was almost slamming into her now, the ferocity of his thrusts electric. Everywhere they touched, she was on fire. He lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, and then he bit it.
“Come for me again, Johanna,” he ordered against the curve of her breast. “I want to feel you tighten on my cock. I want to watch you lose yourself.”
His wicked words had a tremendous effect upon her.
She moaned, feeling herself get slicker, the evidence of her desire pooling beneath her on the bed. The wet sounds of their lovemaking echoed in the quiet of the chamber. She was close, so close, to reaching her pinnacle once more.
She bit her lip, transfixed by the sight of him making love to her. His body was a thing of beauty. It seemed a travesty to her that he was forced to hide it daily beneath so many layers of disguising cloth. She did not think she had ever seen a more beautiful man.
“You are close, aren’t you?” he asked, his baritone a decadent rumble.
He licked her nipple. His fingers found their way between them, to the place where they joined, and then he was working her pearl once more. Stimulating her, circling the painfully sensitive nub.
She was closer than close. Another torturous circle of his fingers over her greedy flesh, and she was lost. She was not just flying. She was shattering. Shattering into a thousand pieces of glittering light. She came so hard she saw stars. She shook beneath him, shook as mindless pleasure overtook her.
“God, Johanna,” he said, his voice tight as he continued to thrust in and out of her. “You are so beautiful. So perfect. I wish I could stay inside your cunny all night.”
And on those wicked words, he withdrew suddenly from her body, grasping his cock as he spent into the bedclothes at her side.
Chapter Twelve
Felix woke tofind himself in an unfamiliar chamber for the second night in a row. But this morning, unlike the last, he awoke to a warm, lush body curved against his. To the sweet, musky scent of lovemaking mingling with rose petals and orange. To Johanna McKenna, the woman who should have been his enemy. Formerly Rose Beaumont. Keeper of secrets. Golden-haired siren. Legend of the stage.
His.
For now, taunted a voice deep inside him.
