Theodore’s eyes closed in a silent bid for strength. For willpower. For divine intervention because, God help him, he felt capable of ravishing her like a pillaging thief. “You are killing me, Lauren. I may burn up in flames on this very spot, but yes, you may touch me, however you like. Whenever you like. I am yours. You are mine. Remember that.”
She assessed his form again, lingering in certain areas, and damn if he didn’t harden all the more because of it.
Then, very softly, she instructed, “Lie back upon the pillows.”
Lauren’s pulse raced like mad.
For all her outward calm, she trembled like a leaf as Theodore followed her instructions without a hint of hesitation.
When he was in place as requested, she faltered, suddenly unsure of her next move. Because there was so much of Theodore to admire… to salivate over. To worship and adore. He sprawled across the bed, propped by stuffed pillows like a magnificent warlord. Great expanses of gleaming skin lay bare before her, waiting to be explored however she wished.
There were his shoulders to begin with. Wide and defined with angular edges and thick tendons leading to biceps that flexed and bunched with muscles when he moved his arms above his head, clasping his hands tight at the base of his neck. She’d already discovered the mysterious planes of his chest and the way he quivered the tiniest bit when she touched him.
Her determination to conquer his willpower led to the intriguing roadmap of ribs and the blocks of muscles that demarcated his abdomen. How intriguing to find a whispery fine and yet somehow coarse trail of black hair that extended below his navel, reaching downward to a nest of the same consistency between his magnificently sturdy thighs.
And then there was…
Oh, goodness…
Stretching boldly toward the ceiling, thick as a half dozen candlesticks bundled together and crowned with a glistening dewdrop of moisture, Theodore’s manhood waited for her to do as she willed. It appeared both soft and rock-solid, an impossible combination in Lauren’s opinion. The flared head, which she thought oddly resembled a mushroom of sorts, could almost be considered pillow-like. In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact it sat atop a long, thick rod that looked inflexible, she would say that particular bit was definitely non-threatening.
Below all that were two round parcels of flesh. Smoothly plump, they apparently served as the base for all the important bits and pieces, nestled like jewels in the mound of curling black hair.
Lauren studied it all carefully, intent on not missing a single detail, especially admiring the narrowness of Theodore’s hips and the trimness of his waist. Even his outer thighs swelled with muscles as they gave way to the firm globes of his buttocks. All in all, he was beautifully created. An exquisite masterpiece of the male physique.
“Lauren.” Theodore’s voice was low, shaky as if he might cry or shout. He stared at the ceiling as if he couldn’t bear to even look at her. “In the name of all that is holy… please. Do something. Anything.”
The desperation in his tone almost frightened her. “I’m unsure where to touch you first,” she replied apologetically. “Or what I should call the parts I do touch.”
His gaze immediately lowered, finding and latching on hers, burning with such intensity the orbs resembled twin flames in pools of deep ocean blue. Tight with unnamed emotion, his jaw clenched as words were forced through his teeth. “My cock. Touch my cock. The head of it… fuck… I’m begging you…”
Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, keeping her eyes on his, from her kneeling position beside him on the bed, Lauren reached out. Very lightly, afraid of hurting him for he sounded in such agony, she traced the slit marking the crown of his penis with her forefinger.
“G-goddamnnn…”
The moan rumbled from Theodore’s chest, and Lauren almost snatched her hand away. But his next word moved her even closer.
“More.”
With a deep breath, she did as he asked, experimentally making a circle with her finger and thumb and sliding it over the mushroom-shaped head of his cock. She was rewarded by a groan of appreciation. Encouraged, the rest of her fingers splayed wide and slid down his length, although she couldn’t encircle him completely.
Upon reaching the twin smooth spheres below, she cupped them briefly in her palm, amazed by their softness, before gliding back up the hard shaft to the top. Increased moisture leaked from the slit now, and as her palm traveled up, Theodore’s hips rocked skyward as well, following the motion almost mindlessly.
Instinctively, Lauren shifted closer and wrapped both hands around him, causing Theodore to arch into her grip.
“Your skin feels like velvet,” she marveled in a whisper as Theodore thrust into her hands. “How can you be so hard and yet so incredibly soft? I wonder if you will feel like this inside me. Like burning iron wrapped in velvet.”
“Christ above. Don’t say things like that, love.”
Lauren swallowed hard, staring at the massive hunk of flesh in her hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is proper…”
He huffed out an agonized groan, his body straining toward her when the motion of her hands faltered.
“I only mean that you might cause a reaction you’re not expecting…” he breathed out a hurried explanation. “I swear I don’t mind, darling.”
Lauren was relieved she’d not done anything wrong. Still hesitant, she resumed stroking him, noting how the skin of his shaft seemed to grow tighter around the hardness it contained. “This is all right, then? To keep touching you this way?”
“Yes… for God’s sake, don’t stop. Slide your hand up and then down just like that. Grip me harder…”
Lauren followed the instructions, intent on learning what she might do best in pleasing him.
When she rubbed her thumb first over the flared head, then the slit while her hand breached the top of him again and again, Theodore groaned his approval.
A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow, glistening over pectoral muscles and the flexing biceps so easily seen as he kept his hands locked behind his head. His head was thrown back on the pillows, his hair a ruffled mass of waves giving him the decadent look of an exotic sultan.
Lauren could not stop staring at him in all his masculine beauty. Her eyes darted from his face, where he now bit his own lip to contain his moans, over the massive width of his chest, heaving with unsteady breaths, and down to where her palms cradled his manhood.
She watched him as her hands pleasured him, fascinated by the savagery of his expression, the desperation she glimpsed in the stark, hard planes of his features. He stared at her before shutting his eyes in helpless surrender to the erotic moment.
Lauren found herself so entranced by his reaction; she was overwhelmed. She wanted more. More of him. More of this. More of it all. She wanted him in her bloodstream, coursing through her veins, and the only way of gaining such immediate gratification was to have his flesh inside her somehow.
Without thought, she bent low over his hips, her lips lightly brushing the crown of his erection before she pushed more of him into her mouth.
“Oh, fuck…” Another strangled curse that might have been her name followed that, exhaled on a fiery groan. Theodore jerked inside her mouth. The head of his shaft, the only part she had engulfed, twitched with shudders of delight. His hands, previously self-restrained, now plunged into her hair, burying themselves, gripping tight to keep her where she was. All ten of his fingers pressed against her scalp, reminders she’d placed herself in his hands, and now, he might not let her go.