He can get aroused in his sleep?she thought wonderingly.
Fascinated, she couldn’t resist touching him, running a finger along the distended ridge. At his sharp exhale, she jerked her hand away, her gaze darting to his face. He was awake, just barely, his eyes a slumberous gold-green.
Her cheeks hot, she said, “I’m sorry to wake you.”
“As you can see, I’ll get up for you anytime, sweetheart.” His husky double entendre ruffled her senses. “Would you like me to disrobe so that you can see what you’re touching?”
Feeling very bold, she nodded.
His slow smile made her shiver. That shiver turned into a full body tremor as he got out of bed and, in a languid motion, pulled his sleep shirt over his head. The display of rippling muscle and hollowing grooves slackened her jaw. She hadn’t seen him fully naked before and, heavens, he was a visual feast.
She scooted closer, kneeling by the edge of the mattress to get a better look. From his wide shoulders to his sectioned abdomen, he was sleek and muscled everywhere. His hips were lean, girded with a striking vee of sinew. He had the long legs of an athlete, his bulging calves sprinkled with hair. And between his corded thighs…
Goodness, his cock was huge. The heavy lance was aimed in her direction, a pearly bead dripping from the tip. At the base of that enormous weapon, his dusky stones hung in a nest of male hair.
Her palms twitched, a molten feeling spreading from her core to her pussy.
“Feel free to touch,” he murmured. “And to do whatever else you wish to.”
Images bombarded her brain. Of things he’d done to her…of things she might like to do to him. His permission fanned the wicked flame inside her. She placed her hands on his abdomen, felt the leap of the washboard-like ridges. She slid her palms upward, circling his nipples with her thumbs.
“You’ve kissed me here before.” She looked up into his heated gaze. “Would it feel good if I did the same thing to you?”
“Why don’t you try and find out?”
His question was both a challenge and a tease. It gave her the nerve to rise on her knees and put her lips to his flat nipple. She kissed him, and his half-smile suggested that he liked what she was doing…and perhaps would like something more. Recalling how he’d tended to her breasts, how good that had made her feel, she kissed him again, this time using her tongue.
His shiver told her she was on the right path. She continued to lick him, his flesh budding beneath her soft flicks. She experimented with suction, and that appeared to be a success, if the low purr in his throat was any indication. She moved to his other nipple, licking, sucking, winnowing out pleasured grunts from him.
The scent and textures of him made her feverish with want. She felt like an acolyte worshiping at his altar. She couldn’t get enough of him, using her hands and lips to learn his sensual contours.
Arriving at his jutting manhood, she looked up at him.
“Show me how to touch you,” she said in a throaty whisper. “How you like to be touched.”
The look in his eyes made her throb between her legs. It was strange to realize how hotly her fires burned this time of month. If it wasn’t for her “visitor” as Wick had put it, she would want him to touch her pussy, do all those wicked things he did to make her spend.
That would have to wait for later. For now, she would have the pleasure of pleasuring him.
“Wrap your fingers around my cock,” he said.
Shivering with excitement, she followed his command. His member was so big that her fingers didn’t fully circle the veiny girth. She moved her fist experimentally, surprised to discover how the soft skin moved over the turgid core, and he hissed out a breath.
“Christ, your touch is heaven. But you can frig me harder—like this.”
Her nipples pulsed at the naughty new word. He folded his hand over hers, teaching her a pumping motion, the grip tighter than what she would have dared to try. The flush on his high cheekbones conveyed that he was enjoying her touch, herfrigging. He must have judged her competent for his hand left hers, going to stroke her hair from her cheek. More moisture leaked from the tip of his cock, making her grasp slippery, and he grunted, seeming to like that even more.
“Use your other hand on my stones,” he instructed. “Rub them…ah, like that. Just like that, sweet lass.”
Her breath puffed from her lips as she fondled his heavy sac whilst frigging him with her other hand. It excited her to obey her lover’s intimate instructions and witness her effect on him. Cords stood out on his neck, his shoulders and biceps bunching. She pumped him harder, squeezing his balls, and he let out a pleasured growl. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to still the throbbing in her pussy.
“I’m going to shoot my seed into your pretty hands,” he rasped. “Feel me, angel…”
His shaft turned harder than steel, and he groaned, shoving himself roughly into her clasp. He exploded, shooting pulse after hot pulse into her hands. She panted as his abundant essence dripped between her fingers, splattering on her nightgown.
With a swiftness that made her gasp, he hauled her off the mattress, planting her back against the wall by her bed. He was naked, his muscular thigh insinuated between her legs. He pressed in, applying friction where she craved it: exquisite, breath-stealing friction that she could feel through her nightgown and the discreet padding she wore.
“Ride me,” he ordered.
