Good she had spoken before he had licked into her, his tongue probing and seeking, because now she was not sure she would ever be capable of another coherent thought. All she could do was lie there beneath the veneration of his mouth, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Her body bowed from the bed, seeking. His hands moved over her, caressing her stomach, and she could not look away from the wonder of him between her thighs, his handsome face nestled there, his touch on her. His hands were large, callused, the ink of the dagger there a sharp contrast to her pale skin. She never wanted him to stop.
Duty no longer mattered.
Nothing mattered but this man. This moment.
When one of his hands cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple, at the same moment his tongue plunged deep inside her, she came undone. Bliss slammed into her, starting in her core and rippling throughout.
“That’s it, love,” he murmured against her throbbing flesh, “spend for me. All over my tongue.”
His sinful words only served to heighten the pleasure. She was shameless now, writhing against him to get him nearer. And he remained where he was, giving her what she wanted and then giving her more. Giving her what she did not even know she needed.
His tongue played over her, licking her up as if she were the finest dessert.
“Blade,” she gasped, certain she was going to perish from the unprecedented ecstasy.
Her heart was racing at a gallop, her breaths ragged and shallow. Her entire body was humming, aflame, the aftereffects of what he had done to her still coursing through her like warm honey. Slow, sweet, decadent.
But he was not finished. He kissed her there, on her mound, his hands coasting over her hips to cup her bottom and lift her to a new angle. His tongue flitted over the sensitive bundle of flesh hidden in her folds. She was on the edge. So close again.
He sucked hard on the bud of her sex, then slid a finger to her entrance. He teased her there, his finger shallowly thrusting as he had with his tongue. The ache within intensified. She wanted him there, inside her.
“Come again, love,” he cajoled. “I want to give you so much pleasure, you cannot think.”
He had already succeeded. Her thoughts were a blur of light and brightness, muddled together. She was soaring. Then bursting as another impossible rush of pleasure swept over her. She was falling apart. Shattering into stars. Trembling beneath him. He hummed against her flesh, and she absorbed the primal rumble of his baritone, a new ripple of awareness tremoring through her.
When the last rush subsided, he kissed his way up her body, lingering on her breasts and nipples, before stretching himself at her side. As her wits returned to her, Felicity realized he was still clad in his dressing gown. His lips were dark and glistening.
From her.
His too-long blond hair was rakishly mussed.
He looked deliciously disreputable.
Her heart thumped.Mine, it said when their gazes met and held. And she wished it were true.
“Thank you for letting me pleasure you,” he told her.
“But you have not taken any pleasure,” she protested, confused.
She had thought he intended to make love to her tonight. And she wanted that. She wanted it more now than she had realized.
“I found pleasure enough in making you spend, love,” he said. “You are going to be married, and I will not take your innocence. It would not be right.”
Could this be? An honorable rogue?
Why?
Did he not know honor was the last thing she had sought in coming here to him tonight? She had taken a great risk to find her way here, to his chamber. And she wanted her reward. She wantedhim.
“I am not married yet,” she said, shivering as a cool draft of air swept over her, reminding her of her nudity. “As you said, no one will know I am ruined.”
“I will know,” he admitted in a low rasp. “I want to be a gentleman for you, Felicity. You deserve no less.”
Her heart gave a pang. “Blade, please.”
“You do not know what you’re asking of me,” he said.
