“That negligee was expensive,” she sputtered.
“I’ll buy you more.” He raked a smoldering gaze over her exposed form. “Humor me, sweetheart. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
She scowled at him. “To do what? Destroy my wardrobe?”
“No, little nymph. I’ve fantasized about having my wicked way with you.”
At the rasp in his voice, a delicious quiver worked up her spine. Having leafed through The Naughty Naiad, she understood the nature of his desires. Her husband was undeniably hot-blooded, but beneath his primal depravity was also a yearning for connection: the longing of a lonely satyr for his mate. His fantasy stirred her own need to be desired with savage intensity—to be important, everything, to the man she loved.
“I’m yours,” she said softly. “To do with as you wish.”
The look that came into his eyes made her tremble with anticipation…and a wee bit of fear. Not of him—she knew he would never do anything against her wishes—but of her own desires. Of the unexpected vein of wickedness that ran through her own soul. All her life, she’d striven to be the perfect daughter, the girl no one had to worry about. She’d concerned herself with the needs of others more than her own.
With Conrad, she was recognizing what she wanted. And it didn’t matter if it wasn’t proper or good. She had only to be herself, and the recognition incinerated her inhibitions.
“You are a bloody gift,” he marveled. “And you’re all mine.”
In a rapid movement, he pinned her hands above her head. Feeling the possessive strength of his grip, instinctive panic shot through her. Her first instinct was to tug free, but he held her fast. As her lungs pulled for air, she saw that his gaze was fixed upon her heaving breasts. His pupils were dilated, his features sharpened by hunger.
The satyr…my husband.
Desire thrummed in her blood and guided her actions. She went slack in his grip, surrendering to the fantasy. To his seductive dominance.
“Now that you’ve captured me.” The tremor in her voice was not entirely feigned. “What do you intend to do with me?”
His eyes lit with astonished lust. His nostrils flared.
“Anything I want,” he growled.
He fell upon her like a ravening beast. She writhed as he used his mouth on her. He grunted with enjoyment as he licked her breasts. When he bit the soft underside, she jerked, then moaned when he tongued away the small hurt.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” he murmured.
“You don’t sound too sorry about it,” she said breathlessly.
“I’m not.” His smile was sensual and unapologetic. “Before the night is done, you’ll bear my mark in more ways than one.”
He took his time licking her nipples. All the while, he anchored her to the bed for his ravishment, his hands still holding her wrists, his hips pinning hers down. His cock felt like a steel bar against her thigh. Wantonly, she strained against him. His restraint heightened her sensations until she felt as if she might burst out of her skin.
“Rub that needy little pussy against me until you come,” he instructed.
He nudged her legs apart with his knee, and she was so aroused that she didn’t think twice about obeying his carnal command. She arched her hips, sliding her throbbing sex against his hard thigh. The motion made a lewd, slick sound, but it felt so good that she didn’t care. He sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, and when she felt his teeth, she flew over the edge.
“Devil and damn, you’re gushing like a fountain.” Beneath his heavy lids, his eyes shone with lust. “Keep your hands where they are, sweetheart. I have to taste you…”
Releasing her wrists, he slid down her body and buried his face between her legs.
Conrad grunted with pleasure as he ate his wife’s cunny. She was more delicious than the chef’s croquembouche. With her, he was insatiable, and it wasn’t just the way she squirmed and sighed, squirting cream onto his greedy tongue. It was also how she obeyed his command, keeping her hands above her head. The sweet sounds she made and the purity of her surrender. Having pledged herself to him, Gigi was giving him everything.
The thought made him crazed with desire. He redoubled his efforts, circling her pearl with his thumb and tonguing the virginal hole he would soon breach. He worked a finger inside, panting at her tightness. Beneath his robe, his turgid cock pulsed with the imperative to claim his bride, but he wanted her to be ready—to be as wild with need as he was.
He licked her to another orgasm, sucking her pearl while she squealed his name. Only then did he mount the mattress, kneeling next to her head. Fisting a handful of her luxuriant tresses, he guided her lips to his dripping erection.
“Suck it, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “Make it nice and wet. I don’t want to hurt your snug little cunny when I take you.”
Her vivid eyes, the color of a dream, widened at this new demand. After a brief hesitation, she wetted her lips and parted them. Pride and lust pounded in his chest.
“Such a good little nymph,” he crooned.
