He was, in a word, a god. It was the only way to describe that lean, lanky frame, wiry with muscle. The kind of body that had been sculpted for years, art that ladies peeked at and giggled behind their fans, trying to determine if such a man truly existed in the world.
Imogen now knew theydid, and bit her lip as he shucked his trousers down his legs and fully exposed himself.
“Oh,” she squeaked, wishing she could be more eloquent, but her mind was addled at present. “That is something.”
He chuckled as he palmed his half-hard cock and stroked it. It immediately came to full attention, curling up toward his belly. “You’re going to swell my head.”
“Which one?” she teased, and got to her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed.
He moved toward her, never looking away as she touched his chest. They both sucked in a breath as she slid her hand down, down over his stomach, down over the vee of his hips, and across the hard expanse of his cock.
His eyes came partly shut as she stroked him from root to tip and repeated the action a few times. He rocked into her, low, needy sounds coming from deep within his chest. She gobbled his reactions up greedily because they meant she had power. Power to move this remarkable man the same way he moved her. She wanted that tonight after twice having received pleasure without giving it.
She wanted so desperately to unwind this man, to shatter him like she’d been shattered. So she bent her head, letting her dark hair fall around them, letting it tickle his cock before she darted out her tongue and stroked him with it.
Immediately he made a hissing sound that sizzled like hot grease in the room. His fingers came into her hair, wrapping the long locks around his fingers and tugging gently. She felt him watching her as she sucked him, reveling in the warm, clean scent of him, the hard thrust of him as she drew him deeper into her mouth, the way he bucked when she swirled her tongue.
“Bloody fucking hell,” he grunted as he began to thrust into her mouth. Slowly, gently, but enough to graze the back of her throat and trigger a slight response in her throat. She backed off, drawing away with a soft pop to look up at him as she continued dragging her hand over his now wet cock.
“Oscar,” she murmured.
She didn’t get to continue. He stepped forward, pressing his hands to her shoulders and making her fall back on the bed. She pulled her legs out from under herself and he collapsed over her, his mouth hungry for hers as he kissed her so hard and heavy that it felt like the ribbon of his control was stretched far too thin. Almost ready to break.
She wrapped her arms around him, letting her nails scrape his arms, his back, as she lifted up against him so that her pelvis ground against his.
He yanked his head back, and there was the snap of the ribbon. There was the beast hidden beneath control and cravats and careful planning and management of everything around him. She shivered to see that unleashed, shivered at what he might do.
What he did was devour her. He pressed her breasts together and bent his head to lick between them, scraping his teeth against the tender flesh as she writhed with the sensation of pleasure balanced on the edge of pain. He held her down as he dragged his mouth lower. He pushed her legs wide and found her center again, driving his tongue inside as he ground a thumb against her still-sensitive clitoris. She gasped, digging her fingers into his thick hair, grinding up to find pleasure.
But unlike before, he didn’t give it to her. He knew how, he’d proven that, but as he smiled up at her, that didn’t seem to be the purpose. What he was doing with his tongue, with his fingers, was drawing her up to the very edge of the pleasure. She shook with it, keened for it, her feet flexed as she reached for it.
And then he backed her away from the same edge until she was clawing at him, begging him, wanting what he could provide more than she wanted anything in the world at that moment.
He laughed as he licked her one final time, still not allowing the release. He caught her behind the knees, his fingers tracing patterns there as she writhed, and tugged her to the edge of the bed. He loomed over her, this naked man, his face cloaked in dark shadows that made his dark beard even more of a mask. He stared down at her with wicked intent as he aligned his cock to her ready sex.
He claimed one inch and she clenched at the coverlet with both fists. He was thick, and he stretched her, but it was such a delicious sense of sensation. He claimed another and another, and she lifted toward him, forcing yet more. She wanted all of him. All of him and then she wanted more still.
His expression shifted as he acquiesced. He was watching her so intently, his dark gaze flitting on her face, almost reading her or memorizing her in this moment when she was so damned vulnerable to him.
He dug his fingers into her hips as he fully seated himself, and shuddered out a sigh. The connection of their bodies was perfect, and she gave a sharp cry at how instant and heated the pleasure became. She could come in less than a minute if he kept doing that.
So of course he didn’t. Still teasing, he ground against her, then pulled back for deeper thrusts. He fell into that rhythm. Grind, grind until she was desperately on the edge, then long thrusts. She was sweating, panting, calling out his name.
“What do you want, Imogen?” he asked at last, his voice impossibly rough and dark. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come,” she admitted. “I want to come and then I want to make you come.”
His eyes widened slightly at the second declaration. As if she’d thrown him off his plan. But it gave her what she wanted. He braced himself on the bed, one hand on either side of her head. He never broke eye contact as he stopped the deeper thrusts and merely rolled his pelvis against hers.
She slid her hands along his spine, down to cup his hips, increasing the pressure of her fingers as if she could control what was happening. The pleasure was right there, so ripe for the picking, so close. But it had been close before and he’d denied it. Would he now?
He answered her question by grinding even harder, and the molten pleasure finally peaked. She jerked against him, her body clenching at his as she came. He continued to work at her, his gaze so focused on her face that she almost got lost in him as the sensation overwhelmed.
It was only when she relaxed back, sated, that he drew almost all the way from her and then took her with a full thrust again.
“You want my release?” he growled. “You want to make me come?”
She nodded. “I do. I want to see it.”
