After what felt like the most blissful eternity, they shifted, moving together as if they shared a mind, a body. He guided her back toward the settee before his fire. Honestly, at some point he needed to do this with her on a bed rather than a couch, but that was for later.
Right now he sank down and couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. She sat beside him but arched a brow instead of returning to those wonderfully drugging kisses.
“Grantham,” she whispered, and there was reality, coming back to the edges of his mind.
He shook his head as he reached out to cover her hand. “I have talked about it ad nauseam, Ophelia. I cannot say the words one more time.”
He expected her to spar with him, as she was so driven to do. Perhaps she would even mean it to be playful, but today he was not up for it. Still, he braced for the game.
Only it never came. Instead her expression softened. She reached up and traced his cheek with her palm, then lower, down his shoulder, his chest, his stomach. He let his eyes flutter shut and simply sank into the pleasure of that touch. When her fingers danced over his body, even though all the layers of clothing that separated them, peace followed. Desire yes, but also a sense of calm.
He felt her shift, move off the settee and he opened his eye. She had knelt before him and wedged herself between his knees. His heart stuttered at the vision of this woman on her knees, her gaze both warm and wicked as she slid both palms up his thighs, massaging lightly, and then went to work on the buttons of his fall front.
“Ophelia,” he ground out through tightly clenched teeth.
She shook her head. “Be quiet, Your Majesty.”
He had to laugh at her cheek. God, but she set him on his head. And he liked it. He liked her and her warmth and her laughter and her force of nature personality that seemed to wash over him like some kind of tidal wave. He certainly liked it when she finally managed to peel away the front flap of his trousers and free his half-hard cock.
She smiled up at him as she took him in hand, stroking him to full attention with only the slightest effort. He should have stopped her. Should have caught her by her arms and dragged her up his body, but in this moment, coming from such an emotionally charged morning…he couldn’t. He wanted this pleasure she offered, this comfort.
Slowly, he let his head drop back against the cushion of the settee, shut his eyes and focused on her touch. And touch she did, the pressure of her fingers increasing slightly as she smoothed her hand over his length. Pleasure followed in the wake of the touch, echoes of it ricocheting throughout his entire body.
But he needed more. He wanted more. Slowly he opened his eyes and found her watching him, her lips wet from licking them, her pupils dilated with the pleasure she was obviously receiving from this act. That she liked it excited him even more.
“Tell me what to do,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard. Every gentlemanly instinct told him to shield her from what he wanted. Every animal one demanded he ask for it.
“It is better if it is…wet,” he said, his voice rough and low.
Her eyes went slightly wide as she glanced down at his cock. “Oh, like it is inside of me,” she whispered.
He groaned because that only made him want more, not less. “Yes, exactly.”
She looked up at his face again, her expression unreadable in the firelight. Then she brushed her cheek to his cock. He jolted at both the feel of her satiny skin and the look of her touching him like that. It was such a striking image as she stroked him with her fingers and brushed the head closer and closer to her lips.
At last she darted out her tongue, swirling it around the head of him. He couldn’t hold back the strangled moan that followed the intense pleasure such a small act created. She had licked him and it was everything.
She smiled against his cock and then licked him again. Again, wetting the head thoroughly. He waited for her to now use that lubrication in order to stroke him, but she didn’t. Instead she took him into her mouth, lightly sucking.
Stars burst before his eyes at the sudden, powerful sensation being multiplied at the most sensitive place in his body. He barked out her name in the quiet, his hand going down to the crown of her head, though whether that was to push her away or hold her where she was, he couldn’t say.
She moaned around him, taking him a little deeper. The vibrations shot up his cock and he flexed against her tongue helplessly.
“Thrust,” he directed in a strangled tone.
She looked up at him without removing his cock from her mouth. Those beautiful blue eyes were mesmerizing, and she didn’t break the gaze as she began to move over him, stroking her mouth up and down his length. He gripped the edge of the settee with one hand, his fingers tangling in her hair with the other.
She might not have much experience in this act, but she had natural talent. She watched him for his response to her every touch and adjusted accordingly. Her hand folded around the base of his cock and he grunted in pleasure. That made her grip tighter as she sucked him, swirling her tongue around him like he was the sweetest treat.
He dropped the hand in her hair, tracing her cheek as she took him, and then caught her wrist. She stopped licking and looked up at him, meeting his stare as he began to move her hand over his base. Her eyes went slightly wide and then she nodded. She wetted his cock more and slid her hand higher to lubricate her palm. Then she went back to sucking him, adding the solid, heavy stroke of her hand to the absolutely life-altering swirl of her tongue.
He found himself pulsing lightly into her mouth, pleasure mounting with every swipe of her tongue, stroke of her hand, with every soft moan she made deep in her throat, like she was as aroused by this as he was.
As she watched him react, she began to increase the pace of her mouth, her tongue swirling faster, her hand pumping with more drive. He found himself grinding into the sensation, pleasure mounting in his balls, racing up his spine, sending spiraling tingles through every inch of his body.
He was going to come—he felt the edge of it growing insistent and wild. He sat up a little and touched her soft hair again, trying to urge her to stop toying with him.
“Ophelia,” he gasped. “I’m going to spend.”
She lifted her gaze and smiled around his cock before she finally stopped sucking. “I thought that was the point, Grantham.”
He managed a strangled laugh at her wicked expression, but when she lowered her head again he caught her chin. “You might not like it in your mouth. Many ladies don’t.”
She shrugged. “I suppose we’ll have to find out.”
Without another word, she returned her mouth to him and went back to her work. She took him deeper now, faster, as if his declaration that he would spend was a challenge she intended to win. He arched back as the pleasure built higher, harder, faster, stronger than he had ever felt before. His breath came short, his hips flexed as he took every lick and suck, and finally, the crisis arrived.
“Ophelia,” he grunted. “Now!”
He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. He came and she took it, though she didn’t swallow, but let the essence of him flow back down over his pulsing cock. His mind emptied with every burst of come, leaving him blissfully relaxed as he flopped back on the settee, boneless and weightless, if only for a moment.
She smiled as she finally released his cock from her lips. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I don’t know about many ladies, but I liked that very much,” she said softly.