And as she slid her mouth over his cock, she watched him, her eyes heavy, sensual, but also a little mysterious.
When he’d first noticed her mouth, he’d not dared envision such erotic images. She was the dream he’d not dared dream—too good to be true.
And yet she was kneeling before him, gifting him with pleasure.
“I want to give you something.”
Hunt drank in the sight of her. Her wavy dark hair tumbled around her face, delicate hands holding his length, which was throbbing. And as she moved over him, the gentle rise and fall provided him with a glimpse of her nipples, turgid, dusty rose.
She moved her mouth, but also her tongue and hands as she sucked him into the back of her throat, and his vision clouded.
Hunt had had a few lovers. He had by no means lived the life of a monk.
And he’d imagined women sucking him… In his darkest thoughts, he’d played out the scenario, rubbing himself to completion.
Probably a hundred times.
No.
More than that.
But he’d never expected it or asked. He’d believed the act too depraved. Something to exist only in his darkest fantasies.
Hunt caught her gaze and held it. This was intimacy that went beyond the physical. It was more than a state of mind—a place. A secret place.
Mine. The word blossomed in his chest as he cradled her cheek. She would be his. This connection between them went beyond any contracts—beyond fate.
“Sweet.” It was a question but also an endearment.
She peered up at him through heavy lids. She, too, was aroused.
Which effectively set fire to his last civilized thought. He moved with her but also palmed her breast. She moaned, vibrating around him. Thrusting, he squeezed and pinched at the same time her sounds of pleasure rolled from her mouth down his cock.
And from there… straight to his heart.
Priscilla hadn’t thought this through. It just… happened.
All of her thoughts, needs, and urges kneaded together and leavened with guilt had grown beyond her control.
With the words locked inside, her body had simply taken over.
Lord Lockley had suggested the act, and at the time, it had frightened her. So why wasn’t she frightened now?
Because this is Emerson. And Emerson gave so much more than he took. He deserved so much more than she could ever give him.
She’d found herself straddling him on the settee, had felt him between her legs. And dear heaven above, she’d wanted him inside of her.
But even more than that, she’d wanted to atone.
Was that what this was? It wasn’t at all humiliating, as one would have imagined. Sliding her mouth over him, she pictured herself kneeling before him. This wasn’t a lie.
Pleasuring him like this felt like the most natural thing in the world.
The tension of his member, straining in her hands, in her mouth, excited her. It was real… It was true.
Being with Emerson ought to feel wrong in every possible way, and yet…
It didn’t.
