Without prompting, she kneeled before him, and he twitched at the sight. Very few ladies had prioritized his pleasure like this, and none had sent such a visceral reaction through him, as though lava ran through his veins. He was burning, half-mad with desire.
“Sybil,” he said… no, growled… as she brushed her fingers against him. He cursed again, the word low.
“George.” She took him in both hands now, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. “You taught me once to do this.”
“Yes.”
“I wish to do it again.”
“Lord, Sybil.” He gripped a bedpost, knowing his knees would be likely to give out if she placed that pretty little mouth on him. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“So tell me.” Her tongue flicked out across his head, and his grip tightened. His head fell back. “What do I do to you?”
“You make me want to keep you in here forever. In this room. So no one else can see you but me.” His words were savage, and at them, she took him in her mouth.
Too much—the sensation was too much. At first, her movements were hesitant. He rested a hand on her head, stroking her hair, holding the curls back from her face as she slid up and down on him.
She broke away, her pupils swollen. Her breasts, too, were swollen; he could see them through her chemise, nipples pearled and ready for him. “Is this… is it—?”
“Sybil,” he said, bending to kiss her again, lips wet against his. “If you didn’t stop, I would have had to stop you.”
Her eyes were wide when he leaned back enough to look at her. “Oh.”
He took her arm and guided her back to the bed. “Now,” he said with a smile he couldn’t hold back, “it’s my turn.”
* * *
Sybil watched as George loomed over her. Her heart was racing. The way he had swelled in her mouth—the way he had held her head and groaned, his hips thrusting as though he could not help himself.
She liked that. Rather more than she should have, but being demure was notnearlyas fun as being depraved. With George, she could countenance being depraved. And, more importantly, she would enjoy it.
His fingers smoothed over the skin around her stomach, her hips, and the tops of her thighs. She was enjoying the sensation of being explored. Even if he wasn’t exploring the precise area she wanted him to.
Specifically, the aching wetness between her legs.
“You have yet to ask me,” she prompted when he showed no signs of altering what he was doing.
“Ask you what?”
She fisted her hands in the sheets. “You know what.”
He took hold of her knee and eased her leg up so she was fully revealed to him. “Yes, I believe I do.” With a shock of slick, hot wetness, he licked between her legs, right at her center. She gasped. “Fear not, I have not forgotten.”
Her entire body was quivering, nerves firing at his every touch. The hand on her knee slid to her stomach, holding her down as he licked her again. Oh, she was going to explode. This was too much for any one person to handle. Her body would burst into flame and perhaps the conflagration would consume him, too. They would burn together, and it would feel a lot like—
“Not yet,” he whispered against her skin. “I don’t want you to climax yet.”
Her thoughts were mere wisps of ideas, lost to the ether. “I—what?”
“Hold on just a little longer, my love.” He slid a finger inside her, and her back arched. He groaned. “God above, Sybil, you are irresistible.”
The combination of his finger and his tongue was enough to bring her closer to the edge; bright pleasure beckoned, drawing ever nearer until her body was humming with the building pressure.
She looked down at him, at the way one hand had descended below the edge of the bed, to where she knew his manhood lay. His bicep tensed as his hand moved. The sight stirred something in her, and she clenched around him.
“Not yet,” he commanded, and she held her breath, clamping down on the rising feeling.
“George—”
