“Mo luran,” she murmured.My pretty boy.
He slid down her body, kissing her ribs and her stomach, and her legs moved apart, allowing his torso to fit between them so that he was lying on the mattress.
And now he was kissing around her maidenhair. With any other man, she would have been embarrassed about having his face so close to that place. But not with Jack Pike. She would let him do anything he wanted. She had no shame about anything with him.
She was only aching need.
She felt his fingers touching her gently, spreading her. She moved her legs apart wider, drew her knees up higher.
“Unnh. Jack.”
“You’re lovely, Helen. Like a rosebud.”
He kissed her then, in that wet, aching place. On her rosebud. She shuddered. And although it was dangerous and thrilling and made her want to grab his head and mash his face into her, she could tell the kiss had been as sweet as the words he had said. And it was good to know at least one part of her was lovely. She could not see it herself, so, this one time, she would take him at his word and allow herself to believe him.
And his tongue, it must be his tongue, touching her, her skin, her private lips, her opening. And he was so close, so close to where she needed him to be. But still he licked and kissed her in every other place than where she needed him.
“I need, Jack. I need.”
She lifted her head and he was looking at her over the curls of her maidenhair, just the top part of his face visible, his eyebrows raised. He winked even as his tongue stroked her, made her wetter, wilder, a fraction of an inch closer to going . . . over . . . the . . . edge.
She put her head down. A devil. He was a devil, her pretty boy.
He stopped for a moment.
“What do you need, Helen?”
She raised her head. “I need . . . relief.”
“Do you want me to give you relief now?
“Aye!” she howled.
“You don’t want to enjoy this a while longer?”
She whimpered. “Aye.”
“But I promised you relief, didn’t I?”
“Aye,” she sobbed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you relief. Lay your head back down.”
She laid her head down. She felt his hands on her inner thighs, kneading her there.
“Relax, Helen, relax. I want you just to feel right now. Only feel. Relax these muscles.”
She tried. She tried. Her legs slid down.
“Good,” he said, his mouth so close to her that the rumble of his voice reverberated into her womb.
And then he gave her the contact she had been wanting and needing. His whole face on her. His stubble burrowing into her. His soft lips on her soft lips and his pulsing, throbbing tongue against her pulsing, throbbing place. And she kept his words in mind.Relaxandfeel.
She felt. Oh, yes, she felt. She felt she was nothing but that pulsing, throbbing place. Every other part of her had melted away and there was only that place and what he was doing to that place.
Her release came. Oh, my God, the waves of pleasure this man and his tongue were bringing her. He splayed his hands over her pelvis and held her down as she bucked and thrashed. Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Oh.
