But he didn’t want that for her.
Phineas Edge didn’t love her the way he did.
He felt himself backed into a corner.
Trapped.
And what a wonderfully titillating trap it was.
“Fine,” he said and let his hands slide down from her shoulders, down her back, to her buttocks. “You win.” Oh, those lovely peach halves in his hands.
“Yes, I do. I win. Kiss me, George,” she breathed, her face turned up to his, her voice raspy.
He did. And as he did, letting his lips and tongue roam over her lips and her face and her neck, even as he squeezed those wondrous cheeks of her bottom, he felt her hands on his fall, unbuttoning. Then his trousers were being pulled down and he was stumbling out of them as he backed her onto the bed, falling on top of her as he tried to devour her mouth with his.
“Oh, George.” His cock, hard and throbbing, was between her thighs, and the tip was pressing into her warmth and wetness.
He kept one hand wedged between a cheek of her bottom and the mattress and supported himself with the other as he bent his neck and brought his mouth to a breast. Her hands were on his head again, caressing his scalp, tickling him behind his ears.
For the first time in his adult life, he thought penetration might be overrated. After all, he was groping her buttock and sucking on her nipple, his cock nestled between her beautiful thighs, and she was rubbing his head. Did he really need to fuck? This was heaven enough for him.
“George, I want you. Please.”
She reminded him this wasn’t about him. Blast. He pulled his hand from under her bottom and took his mouth from her breast.
“Are you sure, Phee?”
“George!” It was a frustrated shriek.
He took his aching member in his hand and rubbed it in her slick pinkness, up over her berry and then down to her entrance. She moaned and closed her eyes.
“Look at me, Phee. I need to know if I’m hurting you so I can stop.”
She obediently opened her eyes.
Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he pushed into her. Her entrance was small, tight. She bit her lip.
“Are you all right, Phee?”
“Unh.” She nodded. She did not smile.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
“N-no,” she whispered. Now she smiled. “Not with you, George.”
He pushed farther into her. His thought from a minute ago about penetration being overrated was gone. Completely gone. Oh, the pleasure, the pleasure of being inside her.
No, that was wrong.
Because pleasure was a totally inadequate word to describe being inside Lady Phoebe Finch.
Theparadiseof being inside her.
He supported himself with both hands and bent his head down to her. “Kiss me, Phee.”
Her lips touched his, but more importantly, now that he was hovering so close to her, his chest brushing her breasts, she moved her hands to his head again.
“Oh, George, please,” she said against his mouth. “Don’t hold back. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
