He almost corrected that prim, breathless Lord Percival!, but decided he rather liked it. He stroked his tongue along the wet length of her slit.
A breathy, “Oh,” slid from Isabel’s throat. She threw one arm over her head as her hips tilted up and legs fell open wider. She had to have more of what his tongue offered. He smiled against her and flicked.
The fingers of her other hand wove through his hair and clenched. “Oh, that is nice.” She wasn’t shy about her desire. Yet one more thing he liked about her.
“Only nice?”
He’d stopped, and her hips squirmed at the loss. She bit her bottom lip. “It just feels so . . . so . . . good.”
His tongue laved across her sensitive skin as a reward. She gave a great groan of relief as she pressed his head.
She wanted, needed . . . more.
And he would give it to her.
His tongue found the sensitive place just below the hood of her sex. Her hips bucked as she gave a sharp cry of pleasure. There it was, the place that would make her come apart beneath him. His cock had begun throbbing. The tip of his tongue stiffened and focused on this tiny patch of nerve endings, stroking in tight circles, flickering in sharp taps. With each touch of his tongue, her body opened to him, even as it tensed. Her gasps grew sharper, more plaintive. She was close, so close, and wet, so wet. “Come apart for me, Isabel.”
The fingers of both her hands tangled in his hair, her eyes squeezed shut, face tensed in sweet distress, lips parted as she strained oh-so-eagerly for exquisite release, her entire being reduced to the patch of skin where his tongue touched her. She was a wanton, dependent on him for the one thing she craved in this world.
A few more flicks of his tongue, and there she went, breaking beneath him, crying out her pleasure as her sex shattered, her quim pulsing its release in quick flutters. His cocked begged him to take her now. She was willing and ready, and he was certainly willing and ready. But . . .
If he took her now, he wouldn’t be able to shake his craving for her . . . ever.
“That was . . . oh,” she breathed.
Her chest heaving beneath the confining corset that remained in place, and her cheeks bright with sated desire, she was a glory in the sunshine. Her eyes slid open, and her mouth curled into a smile no man in the history of time had ever resisted.
Yet he must.
He inched back and pulled her dress down until it reached the middle of her thigh. Her head canted to the side in question as he settled back to his side of the sofa.
“Is that—” she began on a confused sputter. “Is that all?”
Percy willed his cock into submission as his eyes shifted away from her too-direct gaze. “That was for you.”
In a sudden sequence of efficient motion, she pushed forward, and, before he could blink, she sat atop him, legs straddled to either side of his thighs, her hands angling his face up, forcing him to meet her in the eye.
“I am desperate”—her contralto voice cracked on the word—“to feel you inside me.” One hand reached down, between their bodies, and stroked the hard length of his cock through strained wool. “Would you deny me the pleasure of you?”
“Isabel,” he began, his voice reduced to gravel in his throat, “I would deny you nothing.”
They were the truest words he’d ever spoken.
She leaned into him, her head angling, her breath whispering across his neck, lifting goose bumps along his skin, before lush lips found his neck and nimble fingers the closure of his trousers, the next instant freeing his cock. Her slender hand wrapped around him and squeezed as she positioned herself above, her sweet cunny hovering tantalizingly out of reach.
He caught one hand behind her neck and brought her mouth to his, breath mingling, tongues tangling, as she lowered herself onto him, her quim hot and slick. Against every instinct, he grabbed her hips, preventing her from going too fast. Instead, he entered her one deliberate inch at a time. She was so deliciously tight.
She groaned into his mouth, and a wildness began to build inside him. Trembly hands clutched his shoulders, and she gave her hips a mindless swivel. Now it was him groaning into her mouth.
“Oh, the feel of you,” she moaned into his ear. “I need it—oh—I need it—oh—”
She’d lost the ability to finish a sentence. No matter. He knew how it ended. “Deeper?” He gave a hard thrust of his hips as he brought her onto him, and his inhibitions fell away.
“Oh, yes, and—oh—and—”
“Harder?”
She threw her head back in abandon. There was only him and her and this need that held them in its grip.
“And—oh—” she continued, “and—oh—”
“Faster?” he growled into her ear.
“Oh, yes.”
His mouth found her neck, her décolletage, hands pulling her bodice down to reveal a sweet rosy nipple. He took it inside his mouth as he brought her down on him, one relentless thrust after another. His release built with each stroke, but he wouldn’t reach it, not without her.
He made his strokes shallow, and she moaned in frustration. Good. The tease had her straining toward all the pleasure his cock could offer, if only he would just . . .
“I need more,” she dragged out between quick breaths. She was desperate for more of him. “Please,” she begged.
That please did things to his insides. He impaled her—deeper, harder, faster—just as she wanted.
“Yes,” she breathed in repeated litany, a plea, a prayer, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders, only heightening his lust, as she became wild in his arms.
She inhaled a deep gasp and held, the balance of the world suspended on the tip of a needle, as she hung at the edge of release. Then she tipped over into mindless oblivion, her quim clenching around his cock. He had no choice but to follow her as he broke, his climax crashing on him with relentless abandon, pleasure cascading through his veins with every pump of his heart, until soon—too soon—it was over, and he was left gasping for air, sweat trickling down the hollow of his spine.
From a distance, a thought came to him: He’d spilled his seed inside her. Twice.
Stupid. But the aspersion lacked any substance behind it. What was the worst that could happen? She could be with child? He would have to marry her in truth?