“Your turn.” She’d pushed herself up to sit, her arm still clamped over the sheet. Not for the first time, I’d noticed her gaze skate over the small tattoo on the inside of my bicep. Roman numerals recording the date my life changed forever. A tattoo to remind me of the responsibilities that fall to me under the heavy chains of my dukedom. But she didn’t ask for an explanation, and I would never have uttered the truth.
“So, it’s my turn to . . .?” Before the words were out of my mouth, she’d whipped the sheet away from my cock. It settled parachute-like around my shins. The gust of cool air, her expression, and a world of possibilities made my cock pulse. I’d groaned. It was my turn to do whatever the fuck she’d wanted.
“I can’t believe you’re hard again.” Her whisper sounded a little awe-filled.
“You’re suggesting there could be too much of a good thing.”
“Only if it falls off, I guess.”
I might’ve laughed but for the fact that she was climbing over me. Her knee twisted in the sheet, but she’d fallen forward, though caught herself against my thigh. Five hot points of contact branded my skin, my thighs and abs tensing, my hands under my head clenching tight against the instinct to reach out. I needed to see how far she’d planned to take this.
“How’s it looking down there?” My voice was a low rumble, my muscles taut with anticipation.
“All present and accounted for.” Her warm breath coasted over the sensitive crown of my cock, a sudden pulse making it jerk.
“Lose the sheet, Holland.” It’s not like it was covering much in the first place. My gaze had dropped from her face to the linens banded to her breasts, then still lower to where it cut across her belly, leaving the rest of her gloriously naked beneath. Even now, so long after the fact, my tongue rolls along my bottom lip as though thirsty to taste her. “Tell me,” I’d demanded, “what my turn means.”
“You distracted me. I was going to say it’s your turn to guess what I do for a living.”
“That’s easy,” I’d purred. “You’re a woman on top.”
With an inciteful look, she’d gathered her hair over one shoulder. “Damn straight I am.”
The knot in my belly tightens, my cock throbbing as I recall how she’d bent forward and flicked her tongue across the wide crown. There’s always something beautiful about the moment a woman takes your cock into her mouth. It isn’t just in the sensation of her lips wrapped around you, whether she toys or plays with you or sets to sucking the essence right out of you. Any of that is beautiful. Gratifying. Pleasurable in the extreme. But there’s also beauty in the moments before, beauty that sometimes sticks with a man long afterwards. The contrast of slender fingers curled around something so rigid and ruddy. The anticipatory breath as she leans closer and the way her soft lips look stretched around something so unyielding. So severe. It’s all about the contrasts, I suppose. But it was so much more at that moment, staring into eyes that were suddenly the colour of bitter chocolate. Bitter chocolate with flecks of sweet, sweet caramel.
“At the risk of sounding like a cheap porno . . .” Her eyes shone with a mixture of mischief and delight.
“You can say it.” Even now, it makes me smile.
“No, I don’t think I will.” She’d lowered her head, and our eyes had locked, and the way she slid her tongue along the underside of my cock stole my words and thoughts. I’d groaned, the sound deep and carnal as I’d watched my cock slide into her soft mouth.
“Holland . . .” At the agony in her name, her gaze flicked to mine. Desirous. Darkly dilated. “You are so beautiful.” Those full lips stretched wide, the sheet falling from her body. Pulling my hands from behind my head, I slid them into her hair, not because she needed any direction but because I needed the connection, needed to see her face as her hair fell around it like a veil. “And you suck my cock so beautifully.”
Her groan was an exquisite layer of sensation, signalling a change of tempo as she began to work me deeper, wetter. Her hand wrapped firmly at the root, she stroked where her messy mouth couldn’t reach.
“That’s it, darling.” One hand still twisted in her hair, I’d stroked her cheek as she stared up at me. “Take me. Take me all the way in.”
My God. Her mouth. Her tongue. Those dark, shining eyes. The dark cascade of hair tantalising my thigh, tautening the muscles there. I could barely stand it. I wanted her so badly. I want her now.
“Get up here.” I’d slid my hand under her arm, coaxing her higher. “I need to be inside you.” Eyes screwed tight, I’d conjugated a few verbs in Latin as a distraction to this feeling tightening my balls. “Kiss me,” I demanded, winding my hand around her nape, pulling her lips down to mine for a punishing kind of kiss.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she whispered, her colour high. “It’s not your turn.” Pressing her hands to mine, she’d linked our fingers, and I’d allowed her to press them back against the pillow. For all her strong words, a rapid pulse flickered in the base of her throat right before her mouth came over mine. A press of lips. A teasing swipe of her tongue. Her teeth settling over her bottom lip, hard enough to make me buck under her with a groan.
“Now who’s bite-y?”
But her only answer was to press her teeth to my jaw. My body reacts under hers, her beautiful curves reacting in turn.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked, her whisper ending in a playful curl.
“Harder,” I grunted as her teeth grazed my neck. My spine arched as she sucked over my pulse, and my cock brushed against her wetness. “Holland, fuck me.” My fingers tightened on hers as her kisses pulled against the skin of my collarbones. God, the sweet scent of her hair and the temptation of her pussy made me feel fucking deranged.
She rose above me, lithe and sinuous, her hand sliding between her legs. Her lashes flickered, her eyes rolling closed as she pressed my cock against the warm, wet ribbon of her flesh. I hissed out a curse, my body twisting under hers.
The soft slickness of her acceptance.
The hot grip of her walls.
The surge of her body above me.
I felt like I was truly coming undone, unravelling at the seams.
Heat began to twist inside me, my balls drawing tight as I’d wrapped my arms around her back and flipped her under me. At least, I think that was my plan. But not hers. On my knees, one hand braced against the wall, the other bound her to me as my movements became wild and frantic. My mind was a haze of pure red, the need to own her something darker and harder than I’ve ever felt. Amazingly, she accepted this frenzy, her arms wrapped around my neck and her heels at my back.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe it’s happening again.” There was a tremor in her voice, her disbelief, the second before her body began to throb around me. And it was in that moment of awe-filled amusement when everything ceased to make sense. Life, the bed, the room around us blurring around the edges.
“Fuck . . .”
With my last remaining brain cell, I’m sure, I’d realised the risk we were taking. The risk I was taking. There is no room for a child in my life, let alone a woman.
Lowering her back to the bed, I began to pull out, probably going cross-eyed as Holland’s internal muscles clenched around my cock, determined to keep me there. I pressed my lips to hers and took my glistening cock in my hand. Not a moment later, I began to come undone, painting her body’s blushes with lashes of my cum.