Her hips bucked into his face of their own accord, and his arm came across her stomach to hold her still, pinning her to the mattress.
Her fingers curled into his thick dark hair and gripped, pushing him harder against her, shameless in her greed for more. He obliged. His tongue circled the place where every nerve in her body seemed to converge, then drew it between his lips and sucked, and the noise she made was animal and desperate and entirely beyond her control.
There was no describing the sensations he caused in her. A breaking apart, the coming together of those pieces, again and again, until she forgot where she was, until the room dissolvedand there was nothing left in the world except his mouth and her body and the devastating, rhythmic worship he performed between her thighs.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
Time collapsed in on itself as he worked her. He varied the pressure, the pace, reading her responses like text on a page, returning always to the place that made her grip the sheets until her knuckles ached. And when he slipped a finger inside her, curling it against a spot she had not known existed, her whole body seized.
She cried out his name as the wave crashed.
Stars burst behind her eyes, her back arching clean off the bed, her body clenching around his finger in pulsing spasms that left her breathless and blind.
He did not stop.
He coaxed her through every last tremor, his mouth gentle now where it had been ruthless, until the final shudder left her body and she collapsed against the sheets, boneless.
Her legs lay parted and slick where he had been. She could not move. Could not think. Could only lie there, chest heaving, staring at the dark canopy above her while the room slowly reassembled itself around her.
He climbed atop her, held her jaw in one hand, and kissed her. She tasted herself on his tongue, sweet and strange and shockingly intimate. He groaned against her lips as she kissed him back, lazy and deep, her arms winding around his shoulders with the loose, heavy satisfaction of a woman who had just been thoroughly undone.
“Why did you do that?” she whispered shakily.
“I told you,” he purred. “I took what I wanted.”
“And what did you want?”
“Yoursatisfaction. To watch.”
She blushed, her face burning in the darkness.
“What if… what if I wanted that too?”
“No.” He laughed low, sought to kiss her again.
“But you can…” She spoke, and he paused, panting against her mouth. “Can you feel… the same things you make me feel?”
She felt more than saw the concerned frown that worked his mouth next.
“That is not why I visited you tonight.”
“That was not what Iasked.”
What Amelia knew of bodies and love, she had learned through intuition. But she had sensed the change in him when he pleasured her. She sought it now in the darkness, feeling for the swell in his trousers.
He flinched, his breath hitching.
She had guessed right.
“Amelia, you must not… ah…” He jerked atop her as she squeezed the hard length in his britches, her eyes widening in victory.
Biting her lip, she wrestled his shirt from the waistline of his trousers and fumbled for the buttons. His britches slackened around his waist, and Amelia reached a hand inside. She found him there, hard and warm. She had never felt anything like him, realized this must be what godly men kept hidden from women who were not their wives.
And why would they not want to hide, if touching them like this made them submit so easily?
She stroked him again, and he nodded, face contorting in what looked like pain.
“Is this how it happens for you?” she asked, squeezing his length. “Show me how, Nicholas. I want to know…”
