She could have denied him, and maybe she ought to. Yet his domineering attitude, while annoying, was also arousing, stirring an instinctual desire to please. And she didn’t doubt that he needed soothing. While his words spoke of lust, the emotions radiating from him spoke of other needs as well.
A need to bind her to him with passion. To stake his claim on her loyalty and heart.
While she could have told him that those things were fait accompli, she saw in his shadowed expression that he wasn’t in a place readily reached by words. He wanted action…of the most carnal kind. Her blood thrummed with the recognition that she wanted it too.
“We are talking after,” she told him.
“After.” Triumph sharpened his features. “Now open wide for me, love.”
Trembling, she acquiesced to the lewd command, and a heartbeat later, his cock was a heated weight upon her tongue. His salty essence saturated her senses even before he pushed in. Given their earlier practice, she expected the inexplicably exciting sensation of having her mouth filled, yet there was a difference this time. Before, Conrad had let her explore as she wished.
Now he was setting the pace.
He thrust in, going deeper than he ever had. When she tried to close her hand around the base of his shaft, he prevented her from doing so. To her surprise, he placed her gloved palms, one by one, onto his thighs.
“Keep them there,” he ordered. “Let me use your lovely mouth as I wish.”
The word “use” set off a wicked tingle. In her mind’s eye, she saw Pearl kneeling before Prick with her hands just so while he took his pleasure. While all the drawings had been provocative, Gigi had found this one particularly arresting. For the satyr had sheathed himself so completely that the nymph’s lips had kissed his stones. With his fingers curled in her tresses, his eyes rolled back in bliss, he’d looked completely and utterly undone. In truth, he had been the one brought to his knees.
Could I do that to Conrad? Unravel his self-control? In opening myself to him, am I opening him up to me?
The notion intrigued and aroused, but Gigi didn’t have time for contemplation. Her hands curled around his sinewy thighs as he drove deeper. Her lips stretching to accommodate his girth, she had to breathe through her nose, so fully did he occupy her.
“Such a good little wife,” he growled. “Letting me swive your mouth. But you like it, don’t you? Beneath that pretty gown, is your pussy full of cream?”
Oh my stars.
Squeezing her legs together, she felt the slickness smearing her thighs. Her nipples were throbbing points. She moaned, the sound muffled by the shaft stretching her lips.
“That is a sweet sound, duchess. Let me feel you moan around my cock.”
She couldn’t disobey him if she tried. She was too aroused, too lost in the filthy thrill of what they were doing. Conrad slid a hand in her hair, scattering pins. His grip was rough, just tight enough to elicit an arousing discomfort. Yet it was the control this gave him that stirred her the most. The way he held her head in place so that he could take her as he wished.
He drove his hips, and she felt a thrill of panic as he went farther than he had before. So far that he nearly cut off her air. Through eyelashes dewy with effort, she saw that she hadn’t even taken all of him.
“Relax, love. I will take care of you. Give yourself to me.”
His tender words, uttered while he plunged his cock even deeper, caused her heart and her pussy to flutter. She had joined her life with this man, for better or worse…Ad Finem Fidelis. Even if she disagreed with his path to revenge, she trusted him to make the right decision. Once he was calmer—once the wounds ripped open by the meeting with Robert had healed—he would listen to reason. Until then, she would soothe the beast, and in doing so, surrender to her own passions.
The instant she let go, tension left her. She relaxed into the hand cradling her skull, the relentless incursion of his cock. His taste and touch felt essential, and she wanted to be what he needed: a vessel for his pleasure, a companion for his loneliness, a mate for his soul. She craved the intensity of his attentions, the way his gaze was riveted to her face as he pushed deep inside.
“Just so, love.” Pleasure roughened his voice. “Relax your throat and take all of me.”
Somehow she was doing it. Controlling her natural reflexes and letting him in. She drew a breath through her nose as he breached her throat. He withdrew then plunged, and she felt the shocking sensation: the press of his stones against her lips.
“Christ, I’m a lucky bastard. I married the best little cocksucker.”
His rude praise made her whimper, eager to earn more. Wetness coated her chin as he buried his cock again and again, grunting with bliss. His gaze remained locked on hers, smoldering with a heady mix of love, lust, and pride.
“Mine,” he said.
He lunged his hips, the tip of his cock nudging muscles that clenched around him. Groaning, he drew out while she sputtered, but then he slid back in, pairing his thrusts with panted words.
“You’re not theirs. You’re mine. Say it, Gigi.”
He yanked out, the wide dome of his cock hovering by her mouth, glossy from her kiss.
Knowing what he wanted, she gave it to him. “I’m yours.”
