“Do you think the duke will like my breasts, too?”
He raised his head, surprised, letting her breast pop from his mouth. He was so lost in his delight in her bosom, the feel of her hands on his head, his desire to make her say his name again, he had almost forgotten what this was about.
Her hand moved off his head and slid between their bodies. She grasped his cock.
“Show me how to move my hand on your sex now.”
He kissed her breast and murmured, “Not yet, Phee. First, I’m going to touchyoursex.”
She gasped as she let go of him. He could hear her gulp even as he peppered the flesh of her breasts with tiny kisses. “You are? Is that something husbands do?”
He looked at her and met her eyes with the steeliest gaze he could muster. “A good husband does.”
“Yes, George.”
He couldn’t resist lunging and kissing her mouth. Again, he was startled by how perfect her lips were.
He brushed her soft, rounded abdomen with his fingertips. She shivered under his touch. Before he could ask, she said, “No, I’m not cold. I’m excited. By you, George.”
His cock twitched. “By me?” He moved his hand down to her thatch and cupped her there.
“You’re the one in bed with me.” She moved her legs apart slightly. He ran his fingertips down the delicate skin of her inner thigh to her knee.
“It’s very warm under this counterpane, Phee.”
“Yes.”
“Would you mind if I looked at you?”
She met his eyes boldly. “Not if you don’t mind me looking at you.”
He pulled the counterpane off of both of them and threw it on the floor and then returned his hand to her maidenhair. “I want to find that achy, pulsing place.”
Watching her face, he put a finger against the seam of her mound. She formed an O with her lips, and as he put one of his legs over hers, she spread herself open to his hand.
She was hot to the touch. Her folds were silky and dewed. He brushed her little berry and it was already hard and the O of her mouth transformed into the most wicked smile he had ever seen from her.
She inhaled sharply through that smile. “Oh, George. Oh, oh, oh.” She reached for his head, pulling him down as she strained upward off the mattress, her lips hungry, her tongue searching. It was the most erotic kiss of his lifetime as she lapped against the inside of his mouth and rubbed his head with such a frenzy he thought she might rub his scalp off.
Then her body arched into him.
Was it possible she was climaxing already? He had been so focused on his own sensation, he had not noticed that her berry had become even harder and more prominent under his rubbing finger, but yes, her hands were clutching his head as she spasmed against him and she was—could he call it grunting? It was more of a huff. A delightful little voiced exhalation against his mouth.
“Huh . . . huh . . . huh.”
He wanted to capture that huff and bottle it.
He took his hand away from her mound and wrapped his arm around her and eased her back to the mattress slowly.
Her eyes were closed. She was turning her head from side to side as if she were sayingnoand sliding her hands again over his skull.
“Oh, George. Oh, oh, oh.”
“Yes, Phee.”
“Oh, George.”
Her lashes fluttered and she looked up at him.
