But he would not neglect such a pleasurable duty. He dragged his fingers over her, relishing how she twitched and squirmed. “You want to be ready…here?” He pressed one finger inside her.
Her head fell back with a sigh. “Yes.”
“Ready to take my cock?” He slid his finger deeper, then added another.
She let out a soft moan. “I never taught you to talk that way.”
“Some things don’t need to be taught.” He worked his fingers in and out, feeling how her tight muscles slowly relaxed around him. What would that warm, wet heat feel like wrapped around his cock? It seemed inconceivable that he might be moments away from finding out.
He spared a moment to briefly compare the thickness of his fingers to that of his cock, then slid a third finger into her.
“Oh!” Her hips flexed, and he matched the movement, finding the rhythm she liked.
With his free hand, he stroked the sensitive bud at the top of her sex. “Am I meant to make you climax before the act?”
“Not necessarily.” Her voice was breathless, the words garbled.
“Good.” He moved his fingers in a few light, teasing circles. “I want you desperate. Aching. I want to feel what it’s like to be inside you when you’re frantic with want.”Like me.He increased the pace and pressure of his movements. Her muscles gave a spasmodic twitch around his fingers, and he slowed.
“Felix!” she moaned. “I’m ready. I’m ready now.”
He gave her quim a pensive look. “I’m not sure. I think you require more preparation. You taught me not to rush, remember?” He played her with his fingers again, driving her pleasure high and then backing off when he felt her muscles begin to tense.
She let out a frustrated hiss. “I’ve taught you much too well.”
He chuckled, but allowed her to sit up.
With surprising force, she pushed him flat on the bed and climbed on top of him, palms braced on his chest. His hands grazed her thighs as he looked up at her. She was as magnificentas he had imagined—all flushed curves and hazel eyes burning with lust.
She wrapped her hand around his cock, which gave a demanding throb that made Felix catch his breath. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes,” he hissed.
She anchored her hand at the base of his cock, then moved herself above him. Felix wanted to watch exactly how she positioned herself, but his eyes fluttered shut as soon as he felt the warm heat of her enveloping him.
His fingers sank into the flesh of her hips, gripping her as if that was the only thing tethering him to reality. She lowered herself slowly. She was somehow pleasurably slick and achingly tight at the same time, the sensation like nothing he had ever felt.
She settled all the way onto him with a little sigh. His hips flexed of their own accord, driving into her. “Fuck, Lucretia,” he breathed. Now he understood why she wished to be on top their first time; he was already perilously close to losing control, and if he was atop her, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop at the requisite moment.
“Good so far?” she murmured. She wiggled her hips, working him deeper.
He groaned. “Very good.” The words were hideously inadequate, but he was fast losing his ability to compose a rational thought.
She leaned into her hands, still braced on his chest, and moved her hips up and down. The rhythm was slow, tantalizing, the friction delicious.
A familiar tingling pressure built at the base of his spine. He tightened his grip on her hips. “Lucretia,” he ground out. “You may want to s-slow down…”
She ceased the motion. “Already?” She let out a dark, smug chuckle that did nothing to calm his ardor. “Perhaps we should return the focus to me, then.” She removed one hand from his chest and slid it between her legs. Her back arched, hips angling forward as she touched herself. Each movement, no matter how small, sent stabs of pleasure through him. And when her muscles twitched around his cock—he had to bite his lip.
Given his tormenting of her earlier, it took little time for her to lose herself in pleasure. “Fuck,” he grunted through gritted teeth as she shuddered atop him. Her quim was clenching in a way that seemed designed to make him lose control, and the writhing movements of her hips didn’t help.
But somehow, he managed to hold on, and when the climax left her, she gazed down at him with a satisfied smile.
“That nearly killed me,” he growled.
Her smile widened into a grin. “I’m sorry,” she said with mock pity. “Will this make it up to you?” She leaned forward onto her hands and began to ride him. Once she established a slow, deliberate rhythm, it was easier to anticipate the movements, to breathe through them as he grew accustomed to the sensation. He wanted to make this last as long as possible, so he strove to gather every ragged thread of control he could.
But when she did something—he wasn’t sure what—that changed the angle of connection and sent him even deeper into her, he knew all hope was lost. “Lucretia!” he managed.
