His bollocks were tight now.He knew he was nearing his release.
“I have no idea why you say that I shouldn’t praise your cock—when your cock is inside of me and I’m moaning out for more of you.That’s when a woman tells a man that his cock feels good.Because it does.”
Did he believe her?He didn’t know.
He wanted to believe her.And her response to him certainly seemed to suggest that she was telling the truth.
“So I will repeat myself,” she said, rocking away and back again.“Your cock feels good.No, better than good.Your cock feels amazing.”
And then she came, letting out a sound of pure pleasure.He could feel her spasming over him.If he hadn’t come two times already tonight, he would have been done for.
Nevertheless the combination of the sensation and her words had him nearly in pieces.He believed her.He did.She wasn’t lying.
“Fuck, Beatrice.You’re so fucking beautiful.So fucking tight.So fucking perfect.”
He knew he was raving, but he couldn’t help it.Not when she came like that.Not when she was so open with him.
“Are you going to come for me?”she said, moving back and forth again.His hands were still holding onto her arse, but she was in control.He let her create the rhythm.
“Yes.”
“Then come for me, my love.”
My love.Maybe it was the emotion of doing things that he had not thought possible for him.Or the two spends that he had already experienced that evening.Or maybe it was just her.But the tender words brought tears to his eyes.
More than anything, he had never hadthatin the bedchamber.That sweetness.If sweetness or tenderness had made any appearances, he had been sure to stifle them.
But with Beatrice, those words just felt natural.
She rocked out and then sank back in and then did it again and again and again.Now, he was inside of her to the hilt.
“Stop,” he panted, stilling her with his hands.
For some reason, he had a strange sense of what he wanted to do.The thrusting was wonderful, but he wanted her as close as possible.And it felt so good to be buried inside of her.
He didn’t remove himself this time.He ground against her, moving himself in circles instead of thrusting.He held her so that she moved with him, feeling her with his cock in a totally different way, grinding into her.
“Oh my God,” she said.“That feels—that’s amazing.”
“You’re amazing,” he said.“Your pussy is so fucking perfect, Beatrice.You’re going to ruin me.”
Her quim had drawn tight again.He kept grinding himself into her until they were both panting.
“Oh my God,” she repeated.“You’re going to make me come again.”
She began but so did he.He came, explosively, with not just raw need—but raw emotion.He felt his orgasm go on and on as her core spasmed over him.He sounded, even to himself, scarcely human.
When he had drained every bit of pleasure from his spend, he put his face on her bare back and kissed it.
“Beatrice,” he said.“Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
My love.
What in the name of God was wrong with her?
The Marquess of Leith had fallen asleep, gathering Beatrice up into his arms right before he did so.Now, he lay senseless beside her.
