“Shh,” she replied.
“Quick studies,” he said with a slur, “you S-Stanleys.”
Her chuckle came out throaty and warm. “Quick studies, yes. Imaginative, too. Shall I show you?”
For a long moment, he held her gaze. Then, he touched her betrothal ring and released her wrist.
“You’ll have to say no,” she spoke with a sultry purr, “if you truly want me to stop.”
He remained silent. She sat up on her knees. All this strength—this male beauty—hers. Her breath grew heavy with boldness, her blood hot with fire.
He stared into her eyes. A heady rush flushed her cheeks. Could she really do as she planned—take him into her mouth as he’d done to her? Strange, this longing to taste him. Not just taste him, but swallow him whole.
She bowed her head. Scalding fingers lifted her jaw. His eyes had grown sharp as pointed as daggers.
“You do not need to do this,” he said.
She sucked in her lip. “I want to do this.”
His thumb traced her mouth. “Unbutton the flap, Hellion, then see if you want what you think you want.”
Her fingers, trembling, worked each fastening in the flap. First right, then left, and then the leather fell away. Three more buttons closed the final, straining seam. Her courage failed.
“Giles,” she whispered.
He took her hand in his. Together, they worked the top button open—a dark strip of hair. The second—a smooth bit of veined skin. The third—her hand fell away as he worked beneath the leather to lift out the length of his cock. She drew in a breath through parted lips.
“Now, you understand.” He touched her face with his free hand. “Do you wish to continue?”
She understood that her lungs had constricted. She understood her shift had again grown damp with her wanting. She understood he was everything she’d imagined. And she understood she could never turn back.
“I wish to continue,” she replied.
The scent of arousal grew thick. Her hands cupped him with gentle fingers, and she pressed his length to her lips. The string of throaty oaths he uttered filled her with triumph.
She pushed any lingering shame to the back of her mind. Slowly, she licked him, base to glistening tip. He groaned low and resonant—a melody of desire. He cupped her head, forcing her closer. The desire to please and pleasure made her feral. His cock was all she could see, all she could breathe. She released him from her mouth and smoothed the hot, soft skin of his member along her cheek. The tip glistened; she dared to taste.
“Please,” he spoke from the flat plain of his belly.
“Yes, Giles?” she asked. “Tell me what you’d like.”
She could get lost in his eyes on a normal day. Today, she was ensnared. He was a man at war with his desire. Holding his gaze, she ran the tip of her tongue over his manhood.
“I want my cock in your mouth.”
A naughty pleasure made her shudder.
“Very well.”
She closed her lips around his member and took him deep into her mouth. The sensation stung. She froze, countering an unexpected wave of panic.
He placed his hands on either side of her mouth, his thumbs massaging her jaw. “Open. That’s it. Yes. Soften.”
She relaxed her jaw.
“That’s good,” he moaned. “So good.”
She concentrated on the feel of his fingers as he guided her. At last, she fell into a rhythm. The final wisps of discomfort floated away. In and out—over and over, until his thighs began to quake. Forcefully, he shoved her back, in order to withdraw.
