Adrian had always loved a woman’s legs most. Hers did not disappoint.
Had he said she was magnificent? What a puerile means of describing the majesty of this woman’s beauty. Insufficient and far too bland. There did not exist a word in his lexicon capable of sufficiently describing her.
He joined her on the bed, kissing his way up her body. Starting with her toes, all the way up her ankles to her knees. He found a place where she was delightfully sensitive—the secret patch of skin on her inner knee, and he lingered there, torturing them both. Until she was writhing on the bed, shifting beneath him, her legs parting.
Spurred on, he dragged his lips higher, caressing her as he went. Adrian kissed a path to her inner thighs. The heat of her radiated, along with her scent. Roses mingled with the musky essence of her. And he knew that he had to taste her there, too.
He flattened his palms on the warm, soft skin, gently guiding her to open to him completely. The fair thatch of curls shielding her from him revealed pink lips. The swollen bud of her sex.
Desire roared through him.
His head dipped. He ran his tongue along her seam in slow, steady licks before working his way to her pearl as she jerked and moaned beneath him, her fingers threading through his hair. He sucked, then nibbled on her, trying to discover what she liked.
All his previous intentions were long gone.
All he wanted was for her to lose herself, to find her pleasure. He wanted to give her everything he dared. While he alternated between running his tongue over her and suckling, he teased a finger down her slick folds, parting them to find her wet and hot and sleek. Ready, just as he had known she would be. So beautifully, deliciously wet.
He sank a finger inside her channel. She was tight and hot, her body arching to greet him. He sucked harder, sensing the tension building in her as she neared her peak. Adrian added another finger, stroking her, finding a place where she was especially responsive, her body quivering beneath his lips and tongue, her breaths increasingly ragged, her soft sounds of appreciation turning his need to pleasure her into a frenzy.
He wanted her to come, wanted to know the exquisite rush, to lose himself in her.
The wet sounds of his fingers and the taste of her on his tongue, the seeking, searching buck of her hips spurring him on, was almost too much. His cock was painfully hard, need drawing his ballocks tight. He ground himself into the mattress, seeking relief and finding none. There was only one way to cure this driving, delicious ache, and that was to be inside her.
And he would be soon.
She tensed, crying out as she reached her pinnacle. He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, sinking it deep as her release purled through her. He lapped her up, wanting to consume her. Wanting everything.
Up her body he went, filled with fire and lust and wickedness. In the dim recesses of his mind, he recalled how wrong this was, wanting her as he did, taking her as he was about to do. She was not his wife, not his love, and worse, she was married to the man who had fathered him and ruined his mother. He should not desire her, should not relish the way she felt beneath his body, feminine and sleek and wondrous.
But he did. Oh, how he did.
Her nipples were twin offerings he could not resist. He stopped to flick his tongue over the taut buds, to catch the greedy little peaks in his teeth until her nails scored his shoulders and her back bowed from the bed. Thoughts became muted. He was nothing but sensation and need, weak flesh.
Words flashed through his mind.
Yes.
More.
Mine.
His lips paid homage to the curve where her throat met her shoulder. Such a delicate place. How had he never noticed how intimate and glorious that velvety patch of skin could be? He made amends for the omission, then kissed his way to her ear, whispering naughty words that made her gasp and writhe.
“I want to fuck you so badly.”
“Yes.” She clutched at him, ran her hands down his chest.
He rubbed his prick over her swollen folds as he licked the whorl of her ear. “You want my cock, don’t you, love? You want me inside your sweet, drenched cunny.”
She was slick against his cockhead, divine temptation.
She moaned, but gave no response. He would not be satisfied until he had her begging for him. He took her mouth, kissing her tenderly, feeding her his tongue and the taste of herself, rubbing her pearl with his tip until she shuddered and came again. Only then, when he was near to bursting himself, did he lift his head and look down at her, the beautiful slashes of her cheekbones flushed with color, her eyes the brilliant verdant green of spring.
“Tell me, Tilly,” he urged. “Give us both what we want.”
Lust was a beast, clawing at him from within, roaring to be released.
“I need you.”
