She went willingly, trusting him implicitly. “How will you tell?” she asked, though she was confident she knew.
“Sit on this table, and I’ll show you.”
The table was elegant and high, its legs tapered and narrow. She eyed it with misgiving. “What if it breaks?”
“It won’t.” He took her waist in a firm grip, lifting her with ease and settling her atop the piece of furniture.
They were suddenly at the same height, nose to nose.
He stepped into her, her legs parting naturally for him, and rubbed the bridge of his nose along hers in a tender gesture that made something inside her come loose. How was it possible to want him so much, with such marrow-deep need? Her response to him terrified her, because she knew that with each passing day, he only drew her further beneath his spell. And that inevitably, there would come the day that he would grow weary of her. She knew the ways of the world.
But Eleanora wouldn’t think of that now, for it would only spoil a moment she intended to savor. She inhaled his scent, shaving soap and man, and took his lips in a fierce kiss, showing him how he undid her without words. He groaned, his fingertips digging with delicious pressure into her hips, his tongue plundering her mouth.
She needed to be closer to him. Needed his skin on hers. Needed more than a kiss. And she couldn’t wait. She moved her hand from his shoulder, finding the fall of his trousers, and cupped his length. He was thick and hard, as ready for her as she was for him. How she ached for him, sex pulsing with a restless desire that could only be soothed in one way.
She needed him inside her.
Eleanora abandoned his cock to find the buttons she sought, undoing them. The slit in the front of his smalls was easily breached, and then she had him in her hand, hot and smooth and tempting. She gave him a firm stroke the way she had learned he liked, gratified when he made another low sound of surrender, his hips pumping in time with her hand’s movement.
Nando raised his head, staring down at her with sea-blue eyes that were drenched with desire. “Not yet, love. I want to bury my face in your cunny first.”
As much as she loved his tongue on her, she was already beyond the point of patience.
She continued to work his cock unmercifully, keeping him in a tight grasp, swirling her thumb over the bulbous crown. Moisture seeped from him, slicking her hand in a sign that he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.
“I need you inside me,” she told him without preamble.
“Deus,” he muttered. “Are you ready?”
As he asked the question—ever concerned for her pleasure, as he always was—he caught her gown and underpinnings, hauling them up to her thighs. Air kissed her legs through the thin barrier of her silk stockings. He parted her slick folds to tease her pearl.
She held his gaze, still milking his cock, and licked the fullness of her lower lip. “Do you think I am?”
“You’re soaked.” He made the observation with reverence and awe and unabashed lust, continuing to rub her sensitive nub just as she liked.
“It’s your fault. You make me into a wanton.”
“I’ve debauched you, haven’t I?” He glided his finger through her wetness to her entrance, dipping it inside.
“Oh yes.” She slid forward on the table, drawing him into her, mindless in her pursuit of everything he would give her.
She had never known such wondrous sensations existed, that lovemaking was far more complex than her simplistic understanding of what happened between a woman and a man. But Nando had opened her eyes to a world of possibilities. Wicked, sensual possibilities, and for the first time in her life, she was able to revel in her own body and desires. He made her feel powerful, beautiful, and wanted.
She stroked him faster, already on the edge of an orgasm. His finger sank all the way inside her, and she gasped, tightening her hold on his steely length. It was good, so good.
“So wet and hot,” he praised, adding a second finger, driving in and out of her. “You’re such a good girl, primed for my cock. What can I do but give you what you want?”
His thumb rubbed over her pearl in tight circles, fingers thrusting. And when he buried his face in her throat, pressing hot, openmouthed kisses to her skin, she lost all grip on her fragile control. She came, the force of her peak making her body bow toward him, her hips pounding mercilessly against his probing fingers. His cock was pinned between them as wave after wave swept over her.
She sagged backward, struggling for her breath as the fury of her spend waned, and tugged his cock to where she wanted him most. His fingers slid away, and then they were wrapped around hers, slippery and covered in her dew. As one, they guided him to her entrance.
But just when she was ready for him to plunge inside her, his hand fell away and he tore his lips from her neck. The same hand that had pleasured her rose, slick and glistening, to cup her nape. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her head back with enough firmness to dance on the line between pleasure and pain. He was beautiful in his need, his eyes smoldering into hers.
“Put me inside you,” he said.
And somehow the command made her hotter, wetter. She drew him to her opening, the thick head of his cock making her inhale swiftly.
“Go on, love,” he prodded softly.
