Her eyes widened as she absorbed the blunt facts he’d delivered. He wondered if he’d gone too far. As naturally sensual as she was, her virginity wasn’t far behind her, and, moreover, she was a gently bred lady. And here he was explaining in graphic detail a pleasure that he’d engaged in with experienced lovers or whores he’d paid extra coin.
Just as he was about to turn it into a jest and let her off the hook, she bent her head.
His entire being shuddered as wet fire engulfed his prick. “Christ.”
Her reply—garbled by a mouthful of his cock—shot fire up his spine. The sight of her pretty head bobbing on his rod was almost too much to bear. She could only manage to take about half of his length, but, holy hell, it was enough. He wound his fingers into her hair, gripping a silken handful, using it to guide her movements.
“Breathe through your nose, love,” he instructed hoarsely, “and relax your throat if you can. God,yes. Just like that.”
Watching her,feelingher, he was struck by how different this was from anything he’d known before. This wasn’t just a woman performing fellatio—this was Polly, making love to him. Lavishing his cock with selfless affection because that was what she felt forhim. She cared for him. She’d said so, and now she was showing him so.
The realization ricocheted through him. His bollocks pulsed, shooting a hot spurt of pre-spend betwixt her lips. She choked a little, and he shuddered: it was too much, he couldn’t take any more, would surely unload his cannon if this continued. Though no expert in etiquette, he was quite certain that a man did not spill in his lady’s mouth. Thus, he clamped his hands on her shoulders, hauling her over him. He had a brief instant to enjoy her shocked expression before he fisted his erection, notched it to her dew-slickened petals, and pushed her down at the same time that he drove his hips up.
Moans exploded from them both.
“So bloody perfect,” he groaned. “Ride me, Polly.”
He guided her hips, showing her what he meant. It didn’t take long for her to catch on. Slowly at first, then with growing confidence, she worked herself on his erection. Rising up to the tip and then wriggling her way down, she sheathed him to the balls in her snug, hot pussy.
“Oh, I like this,” she sighed.
“Faster,” he urged. “Harder.”
She obeyed. The sight of her—her cheeks flushed and eyes sultry, her cherry-tipped tits bouncing as she impaled herself on his cock—was so bloody magnificent that he wanted it to go on forever. At the same time, he had to grit his teeth against the pressure roiling in his stones. He was determined not to find release until she did. Fingers digging into her hips, he helped her fuck him, shoving his hips up as she came down. The air filled with the sounds of their panting, of the deliciously lewd slapping of their meeting flesh.
“Sinjin,” she chanted.
“Right here, love,” he groaned. “I love feeling you come around me. The way your pussy hugs my prick like you never want to let me go—”
She gave a sharp gasp, and he shouted out as her convulsions milked his length. Cupping her shoulder blades, he pushed her down against his chest, his hips thrusting fiercely as his climax raged through him. Pulse after pulse of heat shot up his shaft, and he emptied himself completely into his wife’s giving depths.
Afterward, he lay there, suffused in bliss, trying to catch his breath. Polly was still sprawled over him. She was so quiet that he thought she’d fallen asleep until she mumbled something.
“What, love?” he said huskily.
“Happy belated birthday.” Her drowsy words sent a bolt of warmth through him. “I’ll be better prepared next year, but just so you know: when it’s your special day, you can have anything you want.”
Something elusive flitted through his chest, a feeling beyond the reach of words. He just cuddled her closer until her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep curled atop him.
His adorable, protective… sex kitten.
Chapter Thirty-One
Five days later, Sinjin stayed on the balls of his feet as he and his opponent circled one another in the practice ring at Apollo Fines’ Boxing Club. He dodged a front hook, feinting left, then went in with his own combination of punches. His boxing gloves made satisfying impact, and his adversary stumbled back against the ropes, grunting.
He dashed sweat off his brow. “Ready for a break, old boy?”
Harry Kent grimaced, rubbing his midsection. Polly’s dark-haired brother was an unusual mix of scholar and athlete. During the sparring, he’d removed the gold-rimmed spectacles which gave him a studious mien, and his large, rangy build moved with natural athleticism.
“I may be done for the day,” Harry said ruefully. “Devil and damn, you generate momentum with that jab of yours.”
Grinning, Sinjin reached for a towel and slung one at his brother-in-law. They headed to the benches next to the ring, where beverages awaited on a silver cart. Founded by Apollo Fines, a gentleman and retired prizefighter, the club rivalled Gentleman Jackson’s in popularity, and the practice rings teemed with fashionable young bloods. Several of them came by to congratulate Sinjin on his recent nuptials. When they tried to lure him into their rakehell escapades, he firmly declined.
In truth, as much as Sinjin enjoyed manly pursuits, he’d have preferred another activity this afternoon—namely a session betwixt the sheets with his new bride. But Polly had insisted that he spend time with her brother, who would be returning to Cambridge soon. Sinjin had caved, not just because he did like Harry, who was a solid, sporting chap, but because he found it difficult to say no to his wife.
After five days of marriage, he found himself wondering why he hadn’t gotten leg-shackled earlier. He knew the answer, of course: because he hadn’t met Polly. She was the necessary ingredient to his marital bliss.
When he’d heard marriage being discussed at the clubs, men typically joked about one of two things: the expense of the endeavor and/or its necessity in the producing of an heir and a spare. What gentlemen didn’t talk about—at least, not in public—were the grace notes that marriage added to everyday life.
