The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(66)

Aroused, curious, she obeyed. It was sinfully titillating to watch him, fully clothed, doing as he wished with her naked body. What he was doing was wicked… but it also made her feel worshipped. He gave her breasts one last lingering kiss before pressing his lips between her ribs, down the pale valley of her belly. She twisted restlessly, clutching the sheets; her nipples, still damp from his suckling, strained upward, wet and glistening.

“Do your breasts ache, sweeting?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, hoping he would ease that sweet throbbing.

“Then touch them.”

Her eyes widened in the reflection. “Pardon?”

“Pet your tits, love. Help me give you pleasure.”

Her breath stuttered. She couldn’t possibly… could she? Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own, moving toward the full mounds. Her trembling palms cupped the needy curves, pleasure tingling through her. What she was doing was depraved—and powerfully arousing.

“That’s right, darling. Touch yourself for me,” he encouraged in a guttural voice. “Play with those pretty nipples.”

In the reflection, the woman shamelessly caressed her own breasts, rubbing the stiff pink tips between her fingers. Hot sparks danced from her nipples to her pussy. Knowing that Andrew was watching her, hearing the hunger in his growled praise, unspooled her remaining inhibitions. Pinching and playing, she abandoned herself to the pleasure that her body could give her.

Large hands clamped on her thighs, spreading them. Panting, she watched as he parted her blonde curls, exposing her vulnerable center. He ran a long finger along the slick seam, and her entire being shivered.

“Look at your beautiful cunny,” he rasped. “Pink and wet with your cream. Can you see, love?”

Heavens, she could—and the fact made her even wetter. Need coiled in her belly. She was desperate for the relief he could give her.

“Look at me, Primrose.”

Her gaze flew to his; the primal possessiveness in those dark depths made her pulse race.

“What do you want? Tell me, and it’s yours,” he commanded.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

“You can do better than that, sunshine.” His thumb nudged upward, skirting around the peak of her bliss, teasing her. “Give me the words. The ones I taught you. The naughty ones running through your head right now.”

Desire tore fear to shreds, tossing it to the winds.

“Put your cock in my pussy,” she pleaded. “Please, Andrew.”

Triumph burned in his eyes. “God, yes.”

He tore off his shirt, and her mouth pooled at the sight of his virile beauty, those carved slabs and ridges of muscle. His boots thumped onto the floor, his hands working on the waistband of his trousers. He stripped them off, baring his erection.

She couldn’t help but gawk at the extent of his arousal: the thick, turgid shaft stood tall against his flat belly, the head engorged and glistening. He wrapped one hand around his member, the other taking something from his discarded trousers. Puzzled, she watched as he brought a white tube with dangling red strings toward his straining cock.

“What is that?” she said.

“A French letter.” At her blank look, his lips curved. “It prevents conception, love. I promised to protect you, remember?”

As understanding dawned, her cheeks heated—and her belly did as well as she watched him don the sheath, which barely accommodated him. He deftly tied the strings and then he lunged over her. He pushed inside, and she gasped at the steady invasion, the unrelenting stretch of his cock opening her up. When he hilted fully inside her, she moaned, discomfort chased away by bliss. By having him where she needed him.

“Christ, that’s good. The best bloody feeling in the world.” His gaze smoldered into hers. “Being inside you, Primrose—there’s no place I’d rather be.”

The force of her emotions was almost too much to bear.

“I want you,” she said achingly. “So much, Andrew.”

“Then take me, love,” he growled.

The rhythm of his hips whirled her senses. Gentle at first, then harder and harder, his thrusts pushed her toward that sparkling edge of abandon. Her mind blurred as he whispered hot, naughty words into her ear: how sweet her pussy was, how he loved its hungry kiss, loved feeding every inch of his prick into her tight little hole. She held on as best as she could as he pounded into her, grinding against her mound, making her see stars. The sound of smacking flesh mingled with her moans and his harsh breaths, and her gaze suddenly caught the reflection overhead.

Her slender limbs were wrapped all around Andrew. Her hands clutched his hard, flexing shoulders, her legs circling his lean hips as he rode her. The ropey muscles of his back rippled, his buttocks hollowing as he filled her again and again with throbbing joy.

The power of their mating surged through her. Their lovemaking was carnal, raw.

Beautiful.

Something broke inside her. She moaned his name as torrents of pleasure set her free, carrying her over the edge.

“Yes, Primrose,” he groaned. “I can feel you coming.”

Tremors of bliss shook her, yet he didn’t stop. He continued to drive into her, his burning gaze her only anchor in the maelstrom. She absorbed the potent pummeling of his hips, the focused momentum of his thrusts, wanting to give him the same rapture he’d given her. Suddenly, he pushed her knees back, opening her further to his commanding incursions, and, incredibly, her spent nerves rekindled.