A Lily Among Thorns(86)
In her haste she fumbled with the sponge, and for a moment she was afraid that she wouldn’t remember how to put it in properly, it had been so long—and then it was in and she couldn’t wait any longer. “Take off your shirt.”
She leaned back against a bedpost to watch as Solomon slid off his braces and pulled his shirt out of his breeches, not quite as deft with his own clothing as he had been with hers. She gave him a predatory smile and slid a hand under his shirt. His stomach was hot under her palm and his gasp sent shivers up her spine. She hummed in satisfaction and pulled the shirt over his head.
A quick tug, back and down, left his chest and shoulders bare and his arms trapped behind his back by the inside-out shirt. She ran her hands over his shoulders—they were pale and freckled and broad, and when she squeezed a little the muscles in them jumped and Solomon made a low growling sound in his throat.
Dear God, his upper arms. It was unfair that anyone should have arms like that. She pressed a hand against his chest. His lungs expanded and contracted, and his heart raced beneath her palm. He made no move to free his arms from their tangle of shirt, just watched her hands on his skin as if they were his hope of heaven. She let them wander lower, and finally set about unbuttoning his trousers. He stood very, very still until she slipped her hand inside and wrapped it around his cock. Then he bucked forward, once, as if he couldn’t help it. He shut his eyes abruptly and made a sound that had no voice in it, only breath.
She put her other hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss her, hard, pressing against him, skin on skin, rubbing her nipples up and down on his chest. She stroked his cock, long, slow strokes, feeling a fierce, primitive satisfaction when he trembled against her.
“Serena,” he gasped into her mouth.
“Take the shirt off,” she said abruptly, letting go and stepping back. “I need you to touch me.”
His eyes fluttered open, crinkling with laughter, and he fumbled to free his arms. Dropping the shirt on the floor and coming at her, he pushed her back onto the bed and dove on after her. They landed in a tangle of limbs, his hands holding her wrists captive above her head, one hard thigh between her legs. “Oh, you need me, do you? Maybe I should make you beg.”
Serena stared at him. Would he really? And could she stop herself from doing it?
He snickered at her consternation and let go of her wrists, trailing his hands down over her arms and shoulders to cup her breasts. The sight of his stained hands on her naked breasts was the most erotic thing she had ever seen. One of his fingers was the exact same shade of blue as her third-best bedchamber. Why did that drive her wild? She arched up against him, unintentionally rubbing against his thigh.
She whimpered, and Solomon laughed softly and squeezed her breasts, catching her nipples between two of his fingers as he did so. She really might die, right here. All her experience, all her expertise, and she was as helpless and clumsy with desire as any green girl on her wedding night. “Do that again,” she demanded.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking adorably pleased with himself, and obliged her.
Sliding down her body, he flicked at one nipple with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and sucking, hard. His hands swept down her sides and over her hips and back up again, his calluses catching lightly on her skin, his hands so hot that everywhere they touched felt cold when they were gone. She shivered again, and again, straining against his hands. “Solomon, I’m ready. I’m ready.”
He pulled his mouth off her breast with a little nip that sent tingles of pleasure coursing all through her. His eyes suddenly solemn in the firelight, he raised himself back up to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Are you sure?” Guiding his cock with one hand, he rocked against her experimentally once, twice, three times.
Oh Christ yes now I’m not a virgin what are you waiting for? she thought, but she said, “I’m sure,” and pulled him down for another kiss. And then in one stroke he was in her, Solomon was inside her, moving slow at first and then faster. She tilted her hips up and closed her eyes and met him thrust for thrust, strung so tight that it was hardly any time at all before she felt her release building.
She arched up against him, cursing, and opened her eyes. She met his darkened hazel gaze. He had been watching her face, and she hated when men did that but somehow, right here, right now, the shock of awareness that passed between them pushed her over the edge, her whole body racked with pleasure. She was melting, no, she was boiling. She was consumed like a snowflake falling into a bonfire.