“You’ve had your dessert, and now I must have mine.” He lowered his dark head, and he lapped lightly at her swollen clitoris.
The breath fled her in a rush, her head falling back against the pillow. No more words now. They were beyond her. She could only feel. And oh, what she felt. He wasted no time in thoroughly devouring her, using his lips and tongue and teeth, laving and sucking and licking. Now, it was her turn to be helpless, awash in the pleasure he bestowed upon her.
He slipped a long finger inside her as he worked her pearl with his mouth, and she planted her feet on the mattress, arching to bring him deeper. Her breaths were ragged, her eyes closed as she surrendered to him. This night, she was his. She would forget all else. Tomorrow and whatever it brought was far away, and she had until the early morning hours to savor him.
A second finger joined the first, pumping in and out as he licked and sucked. Lottie’s hips swiveled, seeking more. Her orgasm, when it hit her, was swift and powerful. She clenched on him, feeling as if a part of her splintered into a thousand jagged shards. He stayed with her as she rode out the waves of pleasure on his tongue and fingers, and when the last ripple of bliss ebbed, he rolled her onto her stomach.
He brushed her curls to one side and kissed her nape, his breath fanning hotly over her bare skin. And then his mouth moved lower, following the line of her spine all the way down until he reached the base. She knew the sharp pressure of his teeth as he bit her right cheek, then kissed the sting away.
“On your hands and knees,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp, roughened with the force of his own need.
Her limbs felt leaden, her entire body sated. It took her a moment to do as he asked, lifting herself onto her forearms and knees. He was positioned behind her, and she turned her head, watching him over her shoulder as he caressed her bottom with one hand and stroked his rapidly thickening cock with the other.
“You’re ready again?” she asked, equal parts amazed and amused.
But then he slicked his rigid shaft up and down her wet folds, and her levity instantly died a swift death.
“You tell me, Venus. What does it feel like?”
His grin was potently male as he continued rubbing the blunt head through her, until the tip prodded her entrance.
She inhaled sharply and exhaled on a moan of helpless need. “It feels like you are.”
“For you, I’m ready all day. Every day. All night, too.” One thrust, and he was planted deep, the angle so exquisite that a strangled sound emerged from her that she scarcely recognized as hers. “I want you to come on my cock the way you did on my tongue.”
And she wanted it too. Wanted him so much it frightened her, for the knowledge that this arrangement of theirs would necessarily end soon was never far.
He withdrew almost completely, only to glide into her again.
“Oh,” she gasped, her cunny shuddering convulsively around his length in the precursor to another climax.
It was building already, a fire he was cleverly, expertly stoking as he thrust in and out of her, his hips slamming into her bottom, his ballocks swinging against her in a rhythm that grew increasingly frantic. Faster, deeper, harder.
Her entire world consisted of nothing more than pleasure. Pure and holy, raw and rude, animalistic and unabashed. Themindless bliss of it all was almost too much. She grasped the bedclothes, panting now, needing every thrust he gave her, pushing back to get him closer. As if the weight of his own need became too much, he collapsed against her, his chest to her back, his mouth on her nape, her ear, as he thrust and thrust and thrust, his motions growing jerky, his hands holding tightly to her hips.
She was his in this moment, so completely and thoroughly taken by him, their skin slick from perspiration, their breaths ragged in the stillness of the room, the sounds of their bodies colliding beautifully obscene.
“Come for me, Venus.”
She didn’t know if she’d been waiting for his permission or if the low, velvet sound of his baritone was what pushed her over the edge. It didn’t matter, because in the next second, she reached her pinnacle again, quaking and quivering from the force of her release, screaming his name into the pillow.
“That’s it. Come all over me.” His movements grew jerky, and she knew he was close.
Another few pumps, and the hot spurt of his seed filled her along with his cock, and she whimpered at the indescribable joy of it. The rightness and the ecstasy. The full force of his weight was on her now, pinning her to the mattress, his heart thumping wildly against her back in a pattern that resembled her own.
He kissed her nape again, her temple, her shoulder, murmuring things she could scarcely hear over the rushing in her ears. And as she lay there beneath him, reluctant for him to move and sever their connection, Lottie thought once more that it was a very good thing that her heart was safe and she hadn’t fallen in love with the Duke of Brandon.
Brandon siftedglorious strands of cinnamon-gold through his fingers, an immense feeling of immeasurable contentment pervading. If not for Pandy at home, he would never leave this room. He’d stay here, basking in Lottie, happily losing himself in her sinful curves, for the rest of his days. The world went on beyond the four walls sheltering them, but for this charmed space in time, how easy it was to pretend that this idyll need never end.
If he had his way, it wouldn’t. He wanted to wake up every morning with her in his arms, in his bed, where she belonged. To kiss her awake. To make love to her whenever he desired, rather than in furtive coupling sessions.
“There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lottie said into the comfortable hush that had lulled between them, looking mussed and lovely and as if she had been thoroughly bedded.
Because she had.
Brandon couldn’t contain his self-satisfied grin as he gazed down at her. “You can ask me anything.”
They had dozed for a time after making love, Lottie curled against his side, his arm wrapped around her waist. He had awoken before her, content to lie there with her, listening to the soft, even sound of each breath she took, pleased beyond measure. Plotting any conceivable means he could conspire to persuade her to marry him.
