Daffin braced his hands on either side of her head, shifted himself into place, and slid into her hot, wet warmth. Once he was in to the hilt, he groaned. He’d never felt anything as perfect as Regina’s body clamping around him. She fit him as if she’d been made for him.
He pressed his forehead to hers and forced himself to count to ten. Then he opened his eyes and looked down at her. The effort to keep from moving inside of her was about to cause his premature death, and the fact that her hands were still cuffed above her head made him harder than he’d ever been, but he leaned down and traced her cheekbonewith his finger, kissed the sides of her eyes and the tip of her nose. “You’re perfect. Do you know that?”
“I think the same about you,” she breathed.
He braced his arms on either side of her head again and pulled nearly all the way out of her. She gasped. “Daffin!”
He lowered his mouth to hers to silence her while he sank slowly back inside.
His hips continued their torturous movements, in and out, while her hips thrashed beneath him and her head moved fitfully on the sheets. She strained against her handcuffs, obviously wanting to touch him.
He pulled all the way out and circled his hips against her.
“No!” she protested.
“No what?” he prompted breathlessly, still circling his hips, teasing her, tempting her.
“I want you. Come back.”
“Beg me,” he ordered.
“Please, Daffin,” she breathed. “I want you. I need you.”
He slid back inside her then, and she gasped when he filled her. He did it again and again, pulling out of her and making her beg him not to stop. By the time he plunged into her for what was no doubt the dozenth time, they were both panting and nearly mad with lust and the need for release.
He reached down to touch the sensitive nub between her folds with the tip of his finger. “Tell me you want me,” he growled in her ear.
“I want you,” she cried. “I need you.”
“Beg me.” He nipped her ear.
“Please.”
His finger circled her flesh again and again. She was so close. So very close. Right on the edge.
And then he stopped.
“No,” she cried. His mouth swallowed the word.
“What do you want?” His grin tortured her.
“Don’t stop. Your finger… please don’t stop.” She tried to bring her hands down to pull him toward her, but he clamped a hand against her arm, holding her cuffed wrists above her head.
“This?” He circled her again with his finger. “You want this?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He circled her again and her hips picked up the rhythm once more. She was going to come. She was going to—
He pulled his finger away.
“Please. Don’t stop. Please, Daffin.”
His mouth covered hers and his finger returned to circle her nub, again and again, while she arched her hips, helpless against the movement of his hand. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t stop.”
He quickened the intimate caress without stopping this time, and the crushing weight of her climax made her scream his name into his mouth.
He pushed her legs apart roughly with his knee and slid into her, thrusting until his own climax followed hers. As it peaked, he pulled out and spilled his seed on her belly, crushing himself against her, groaning her name into her ear.
