I circled her nipple slowly with my tongue. Then I drew her deeper, sucking gently as a groan rumbled in my chest. She writhed beneath me, her fingers scrabbling at the fabric of my tunic. Every arch of her body, every breathy whimper, made tension coil low in my gut.
I laved the other peak with the same heated attention, gently rolling the one still damp from my mouth. Her hips lifted, and she ground herself against my thigh. Moonlight traced goosebumps across her flushed skin, and her magic flared brighter, hotter, humming in the charged air between us.
I traced my fingers down to her hip and bunched her skirt higher and higher. Her breathing stuttered as I slid my hand over the curve of her knee, then the soft skin of her inner thigh. Higher until I could run my knuckles across her damp undergarment.
I met her gaze, and she nodded, giving me all the permission I needed.
With a flick of my finger, the garment dissolved, giving me complete access to her heat and wetness. I stroked my finger down her seam, then returned to the top, dragging my thumb across her clit. She cried out, her voice echoing in the garden.
The broken plea skittered along my nerve endings. I ran lazy circles around her clit, teasing with a light touch, while she thrust her lower body against my hand.
Her back arched again, lifting her off the cushion, seeking more contact. I slid a finger inside her and nearly came on the spot.
“Wet,” I growled. “Wet forme.”
As I pumped my finger in and out of her, keeping my thumb on her clit, her entire body trembled.
She was slick and swollen, the moonlight glistening on her pale, silken curls, and I couldn’t resist.
I would kill to taste her.
But first, I teased her until her thigh muscles became rigid ropes straining against my arm, until her musky scent surrounded us.
She was close, trembling on the edge. But instead of pushing her over, I removed my touch completely.
Her eyes flew open. “No. Don’t you dare stop?—”
I smiled and pulled her upright while my erection throbbed beneath my pants.
When I was kneeling in front of her, I met her gaze.
“Legs up,” I barked.
I helped lift them from the ground. She braced her shoulders against the cushioned backrest as I hiked up her skirt to the top of her hips. Her silhouette against the moonlit drove me mad. Glorious breasts exposed. The mound of her sex lifted for my touch. I tugged her forward until I could spread her wide in front of my face. A feast laid bare for me to devour.
Her thighs quivered against my shoulders.
“I’m going to give you what you need, Minx.”
Then I leaned in.
I stroked my tongue through her folds slick with desire. Her shuddering cry tangled with the wind whispering through the camellias. Taste flooded my senses, rich and thrillinglyhers. Far better than wine. I became a conqueror savoring the spoils of war. Licking deep. Tracing elaborate patterns around her quivering entrance before surging upward again to find the hard nub.
Her whole body arched. “Oh!”
I trapped her against the cushions with one hand. The sweet core of her was slick and welcoming. I tasted every ripple of her response. When I pushed my fingertip inside her tight channel, she moaned again. With the tip of my tongue driving hard circles against her clit and the slow thrust of my two fingers within her soft walls, she shattered, giving way to shudders.
Her hoarse groan echoed in the garden.
My cock surged forward, shooting everything I had inside my pants, my sharp bark echoing in the night.
Her legs clamped hard on my temples as her internal muscles seized around my fingers. Tremors raged as her orgasm sent cries upher throat. I pushed her through the spasms until she lay against the bench, limp and boneless above me.
Completely wrecked.
Utterly beautiful.
And all mine.
