He cleared his throat. “For you.”
“My Christmas Eve-Eve present.”
“Do you really want to . . . ?”
She sat up and her hand began moving over his length. “I’ve wanted to—oh, since we met.”
He tried to scoff. “I looked like a vagabond.”
“Oh, no, Kit. You were handsome and mysterious and savage. I wanted to climb onto your lap and ride you all the way to London.”
He had gotten harder and harder, not just from her stroking, but from the image she had created of them fornicating in the coach.
“Please.” It came out as a strangled entreaty.
She lay back. “Slowly, at first.”
“Yes.” He was eager to begin but not eager for the coupling to be over.
He knelt between her legs and she drew her knees up. He could see the wetness and swelling and redness from her arousal. He put his weight on one hand and used the other to place the head of his cock at her entrance.
He pushed into her. She mewed just as she had when he had put his finger inside her.
He went in farther and the sensation was sublime. Her walls clung to him, pushed against his cock, surrounded him with heat and pressure.
She had one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder. She anchored him as he eased himself into her celestial cunt.
“I like this,” she whispered. “You feel so big. You fill me so completely.” A pause. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not all the way in.”
A gleeful laugh, a wicked grin showing her gap. “Even better. Give me more.”
He pushed. Now, he really was completely seated inside of her.
“Oh, Kit. You’re . . . you’re decadent.”
He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Can I move?”
“Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes, yes. Please.”
He withdrew slowly and pushed back in.
Oh, my God. She was looking at him with such relish. And her lips. He came down and kissed her as she strained upward and met him.You’re beautiful, your cunt, your arse, your breasts, all of you. I cherish your laugh. I adore that you tolerate me.
You’re the only woman for me.
Her arms came around him tightly. He moved in and out and her kisses were as fervent as he could wish, but still he thought he should be doing more.
“Tell me what to do, Franny.”
“Do what feels good to you,” she said and hesitated.
“Tell me.”
Her hands slid down to his buttocks. “When you come into me, right at the end, tuck your tailbone in, toward me. And when you withdraw, flex a little. Stick your bottom out.”
He tried and the first time he withdrew, he went too far, and his shaft popped out of her quim with a wet noise.
