Page 13 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“Paul!”

He ignored her exclamation and clamped her legs tighter with his arms to stop her squirming, burying his tongue deep inside her, the warm pad of his thumb rhythmically stroking her engorged nub in exactly the right place.

All plans to remain silent flew out the window the moment the coiled bliss inside her exploded. She was vaguely aware of loud, animalistic cries—hers—and the feel of his hair between her fingers as she first ground against him and then, after her climax began to ebb—tried, and failed—to pull his head away.

“Paul! It’s too much,” she whimpered.

“Just once more.” He lightly sucked her throbbing peak between his lips.

Phoebe had thought she was too sensitive—painfully so—to climax again, but he proved yet again that he knew her body far better than she ever would.

When she was quivering and limp from her second orgasm she tried to close her thighs, but he easily held her open.

“I won’t touch anything sensitive,” he promised between licks. “I just want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.” He was as good as his word as he carefully, and thoroughly, laved and kissed every part of her. “So good,” he murmured, his tongue lightly probing the entrance to her body. And then he groaned and plunged deeper.

Phoebe’s face was on fire as he feasted on her. She considered trying to get up but knew he would not release her until he was good and ready. In fact, any sign of resistance only made him dig in.

Besides…she loved this part, when he worshipped her body, which he—inexplicably—continued to be obsessed with. Indeed, he seemed to want her more, despite how horribly ungainly she’d become.

Her lips curved into what she was sure was a fatuous smile and she gave herself up to the bliss of the moment.

An indeterminate time later he heaved a reluctant sigh, gave the source of her pleasure one last, lingering, sucking kiss and then gently lowered her legs before standing. “I would do this all day—if not for the fact that I have a blasted meeting with Bixby and I’ve not read over his report yet.” Bixby was his man of business who’d come all the way from London, otherwise she suspected Paul would have made the poor man wait.

He smiled down at her, his lips red and swollen from his labors. “Did I hurt your hips?” he asked when she brought her knees together and winced.

“It was worth it,” she said as she straightened her skirts.

He laughed and then strode to the door and unlocked it before returning and slipping his arms beneath her and returning to his chair, holding her cradled in his lap.

“There, you see? You have pleased your husband greatly and nobody is the wiser.” He lifted her close enough to kiss her, a faint, musky scent lingering on his lips.

“You like tasting yourself on me, don’t you?”

Predictably, she blushed.

He chuckled smugly, kissed her hard, and then leaned back in his chair, wincing as he adjusted the long, hard ridge that was jammed into her hip.

Phoebe slid a hand between their bodies and lightly squeezed the thick bulge. “May I help you with this, my lord?”

His eyes kindled and she could see he was seriously considering it. But, after a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, there is no time. But rest assured that I will save it for you.”

“Save it?” she asked with a wide-eyed look, continuing her stroking, purposely goading him because she loved it when he was filthy, no matter how much it shocked her.

“I am saving it for tonight, when you will beg for every inch.”His gaze flickered to her mouth and his eyes narrowed. “I fact, I think you will take me twice.”

“Paul!”

He raised a black velvet eyebrow, one of his big hands suggestively stroking the crease between her buttocks, a thick finger pressing against that most taboo part of her. “Perhaps even three times.”

Phoebe gasped. They had done that on only two occasions, and she had, to her intense astonishment and mortification, enjoyed it.

“My wicked wife,” he said, chuckling at whatever he saw on her scarlet face—probably her unladylike eagerness—and kissed her hard, taking her hand by the wrist and firmly removing it from his manhood. “Behave.”

“I thought I was behaving?” she said, pouting.

He kissed her again. “What a little monster I’ve created.”

“Ugh. Not so little.” She shifted uncomfortably and glared at her bulging midsection.