There was something enormous in what she had said. Something that his mind couldn’t readily compute. All the blood in his body had seemingly rushed to his cock, and he was poised at the gates of heaven itself, ready to conquer and claim. He would revisit those words later, try to make sense of them. For now, he was a man driven by desire.
He sought her mouth, feeding her the taste of herself on his tongue as he thrust forward. The tip of his cock was engulfed in wet heat as he breached her. She inhaled into his kiss, her body tensing.
“Relax,” he murmured against her lips, using his forefinger to play with her bud once more.
He stroked lightly, and the stiffness leached from her body. He deepened the kiss and thrust forward again. She clenched on him, gripping him snugly, and it was all he could do not to rampage forward. But for her, he would be gentle. He wantedher to experience pleasure beyond what he had given her with his mouth.
Another thrust, then another, and he was seated fully and she was gloriously tight around him. His conscience tried to tell him how wrong this was. He had just taken Rhiannon’s virginity. But all his primitive male brain could think was that she was his.
“How are you?” he asked, kissing the corner of her lips.
“Wonderful. Are we…finished?”
Her naïve curiosity tore a chuckle from him. “No, minx. We’ve only just begun.”
“Oh good, because I was thinking that it would be lovely if you moved again as you did with your fingers and?—”
He silenced her further chatter by kissing her again and gave her what she wanted, beginning a rhythm that was slow and steady, still giving her body time to adjust. His sweet minx, even trying to manage him in the bedroom. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be leading him about by the ballocks in no time.
But he wouldn’t think about that now.
Instead, he quieted his mind and turned all of his attention to the play of their bodies. Beneath him, her lush curves were smooth and supple. Her nipples teased his chest. His control unraveled. He surged into her faster, harder, his own release embarrassingly within reach. He hadn’t come this quickly with a woman since…perhaps not ever.
But there was no help for it. Rhiannon was making breathy sounds that were carving away at his very soul, and the snug heat of her cunny was about to make him explode. She moved with him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Oh, that’s good,” she hummed. “So good. Yes. More of that.”
He caught her bottom in both hands and shifted them, rising up so that he could penetrate her from a different direction, giving her what she wanted. He fucked her fast and hard,watching as her breasts bounced and her eyes closed, her sultry mouth open.
She was so bloody beautiful. A fucking goddess. He never wanted to stop. Never wanted this moment to be over. Her nails raked his shoulders and her cries lit up the night. He forgot to care about keeping her quiet. Forgot everything. His body was a machine, claiming, taking, giving.
Rhiannon came on him without warning, a sudden clamp of her sheath that made him lose all control. Aubrey’s release roared through him, heat singeing up his spine as his ballocks drew tight. He withdrew from her too late, painting her pretty pink pussy with the last lashes of his seed.
CHAPTER 11
Rhiannon woke to the smell of breakfast.
Which was quite odd, considering that she was in her bedroom.
She blinked and yawned, stretching as she looked for the source of the decadent scents. Her stomach rumbled. There was nothing on her bedside table. And besides, who would have brought her breakfast this morning? She hadn’t had a tray in her room since arriving, and?—
“Good morning.”
She emitted a high-pitched squeal at the masculine rumble and turned to find Aubrey moving toward her, bearing a large silver tray laden with an assortment of food. The source of the smell.
Her heart leapt, and her stomach rumbled in unison.
“Good morning,” she returned, feeling suddenly shy as she sat up in bed, holding the bedclothes over her bare breasts.
He was the picture of a dashing rake this morning, an easy grin on his sensual lips, his hair a bit damp at the ends, as if he had recently bathed, his whiskers neatly trimmed.
“How are you?” he asked softly, bringing the tray to the table at her bed and placing it there.
How was she? What kind of a question was that? And how to answer?
“I am well,” she managed, wondering how an experienced mistress would respond.
Likely, she wouldn’t have squeaked like a mouse, she thought grimly.
