The ache in her quim overtook the ache in her heart. Her mouth watered, and she lowered her head and licked over the top of that proud cock.
He gasped and grasped the tops of her arms. She looked up, and his eyes were ablaze.
Keeping her own eyes on his face, she licked his cock again. She wanted him undone. She wanted him on fire. She wanted a conflagration that would consume them both.
His forehead creased.
“Susannah,” he said. Stern, a warning.
But she was naughty. She wanted to be naughty and free with him, and she could be because he loved her.
A third lick, a swirl of tongue around the edge of the crown. “Mmmm.”
“There will be consequences,” he said.
She felt a shiver of delight, and her thighs tightened. He was so forbidding with his threat of consequences. Such a lord, even on his back and in the mud.
But he was still far too capable of speech.
Yet another lick to the head, an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his shaft.
“Oh, but I want your consequences.”
She took the head of his cock into her mouth. It was perfect, smooth and firm and what she needed. What she craved. She sucked lightly.
He lurched, his fingers tightened. Good.
She stroked the underside of the tip with her tongue once, twice, thrice, and all the lines went out of his face, and his eyes took on a kind of madness.
She released his cock. “I want all the consequences you can give me, my lord.”
“I . . . you . . .”
She took his cock again into her mouth and showed her devotion with her tongue.
“Arrrrgh.”
It was him making that sound, not her.
He lifted her, took her off his cock, hauled her up his body. She came gladly, breathless already, laughing both at herself and at him and his wildness. He set her down on top of him and pulled at her sodden skirts with such roughness and force that she was surprised not to hear them rip.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The word made her even hungrier for that, for him, for fucking him, her earl.
He pushed her skirts up around her thighs, and she felt him fumble under her petticoat, seize her buttocks. His hands spread them, clutched them, owned them.
“Kiss me,” he said.
They kissed in the rain. Their mouths warred, both of them desperate for what was to come. His tongue plunged, filled her mouth, withdrew as she battled back with her own. Then his tongue overtook hers and promised her the consummation she needed.
She began to lose purchase on his lips because she had to move, she had to grind her bare cleft against his cock.
Ungh.
She writhed and moved, and he pulled with his hands on her buttocks, lifted his hips, and thrust at her aching folds. He slid over her pulsing need with his tip and then his shaft and back again. He was on the outside of her, but she needed him inside.
She needed him, she needed his cock.
