He moaned. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”
“Can I… taste you, as you did me?” Her gaze flicked to his member, her hand still wrapped loosely around.
“Yes.” The single word more of a yelp. “You do not have to, though. You?—”
Her mouth was already on him. First, she set a kiss there on the very tip, then she used her tongue to explore the rest of it. He moaned a curse, low and long, that made her hips want to roll again, made her crave his fingers between her legs.
“I need inside you.” His last word almost a whimper as his muscles bunched. She would be flat on her back again in no time.
She pressed him back to the bed with a palm. “I want that too. But… I do wonder… I have accidentally seen this act done in a variety of ways. Lady Chattaway does not lock doors.”
“What do you want? Anything, sweetheart.”
“I want to control it. Can I… I mean, I know it is possible to…” She straddled his hips, her sex brushing against his staff, stiff between them. “I should like to be here.” She wrapped her hand around the head of his shaft and stroked it downward. “Or here, more precisely.”
“Yes.” The word a rough, guttural sound, as if he were holding back.
She nodded, barely rose, inching forward on her knees, lifting up. She grasped him, wrenching a groan from his parted lips. He grasped her thighs, his hands big there, and scalding, and he stroked them up and down as she parted her folds with the head of his shaft and lowered herself. He hissed, hips almost bucking, their impulse harnessed under Remmy’s tight control.
She bit her lip. He filled her up so much, stretched her out.
He squeezed her thighs, and she met his gaze.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice strained.
“Not quite. Can I go slow?”
“You’re killing me.”
“I should stop.”
“Thatwill kill me.” He coasted his hands upward, foundher breasts, and loved them gently. He rolled his hips beneath her, encouraging her, and each stroke of his fingers across her nipples made her achy again.
“Remmy,” she sighed, relaxing as he rolled up to meet her with a groan.
He grasped her hips, burying himself to the hilt and instead of the inching pain, she felt nothing but growing pleasure.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Up and down, sweetheart, in and out, over and over.”
“Stage directions even a novice like me can follow.” She tried, up and down, slowly, awkwardly, frustratedly. With a growl, she slapped both hands to his chest.
He curled up and kissed her, such a sweet thing she almost forgot her frustration. “Let me? Please let me, Tessa.”
Remmy wanted for her what she wanted. She trusted him. She could give him control because he would use it to bring her pleasure then give it right back when she asked. “Yes.”
His eyes blazed, and he surged upward, wrapping his arms around her, flipping them both so that he was above her, in her, and she was breathless and dizzy. Before she could recover, he was kissing her, pulling out of her, driving hard into her.
And each meeting of their bodies spun her back to that edgeless cliff where stars had settled into the grass and she could waltz on air.
He slowed, and she caught her breath, but only until he slipped a hand between them, finding her throbbing pearl once more. And then she barely recognized the sound she made as hers.
He rocked slowly.
She matched his pace.
His perfectly wicked grin flashed above her.
