The King's Spinster Bride, (Royal Wedding #1)(23)
I love when she starts to pant, her body wriggling against me. “Mathior,” she gasps, and the hand in my hair tightens. “I don’t…wait…I don’t know…”
“Tell me to stop and I will,” I murmur briefly and then lower my head again, devoting more of my attention to her. I want to take her to the next level, to make her wild, and so I slide one hand under my mouth and begin to pet her cunt in the places that I cannot yet devote my tongue to. I stroke a finger against the entrance to her core and when she tightens, I tease the tip of it in even as I continue to lap at her clit.
“No,” she pants, arching up underneath me as if she can press herself against my mouth. “No…don’t stop. Please. Mathior!” Her voice grows more urgent and full of need with every stroke of my tongue.
My cock strains against my leathers and I force myself not to rub back and forth against the edge of the bed, lest I come and not finish pleasuring my woman first. I need her to come, and come hard and so good that she aches to marry me. An unsatisfied female can turn away the man that asks for her hand in marriage, and I aim not to be that man.
I push a finger into her cunt and nearly lose control at how tight and wet she is. Halla moans in pleasure, and I feel a new rush of her honey against my tongue. She’s close, if the flex and quiver of her cunt is any indication. Her gasps and cries increase with frequency and she rocks her hips wildly against my mouth. Her excitement is spurring mine, and it’s taking everything I have not to spill into my leather breeches. I thrust into her with my finger, pumping into her cunt as I want to with my cock. It’s not part of the “tasting,” but I can’t help myself. I’m too addicted to the soft cries she makes and the sensation of her body clenching around my finger. I push another one in alongside the first, and then I’m slowly fucking her with my fingers as I lap at her cunt.
Her thighs quiver and she gives a guttural cry. Her cunt spasms around my fingers and then her honey floods my mouth. She arches up against my mouth as she climaxes, and I keep on nuzzling her, determined to wring out her climax for as long as possible. With a whimper, she shudders and then goes limp on the furs, as if she’s lost all the strength in her body.
I continue to lap at her cunt, unwilling to let this moment end. I feel fierce satisfaction that I’ve made her climax so hard. Halla trembles with every stroke of my tongue, and I keep going until her thighs start to slide together and it’s clear she doesn’t want me there any longer. I still want to do more, of course. My body throbs with awareness of her, and her scent is in my nose, her taste on my tongue. How do other bridegrooms possibly stop when their woman is sprawled in bed in front of them, bare to the waist? I give the inside of her thigh a fervent kiss. “My Halla.”
She makes a breathless sound that might be a response.
I move forward on the bed, crawling over her. My pants are still on and I won’t do anything—not tonight—but I want to hold her, see her face as she recovers from her climax. I move next to her on the bed and caress her cheek, rubbing my nose against her skin. I want to kiss her, but I also don’t want to lose the taste of her cunt on my lips. “My sweet love.”
Halla’s eyes are glazed, her lips pink and plump from biting them. Her hair is disheveled and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her face. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful.
She moans and puts a hand to my face, kissing me ferociously.
I pull her into my arms, slicking my tongue into her mouth, giving her all the urgency I feel. We share hungry kisses and then she pulls away, panting. “That was…I…there are no words.”
“Did I please you?” I rub my nose against hers. I want to stay here forever, I think, and just drink in…her.
“Oh yes,” she tells me, breathless. Her hand skims up and down my chest, as if she cannot stop touching me, either. “But you…”
“Tomorrow.” I close my eyes and press a kiss to her hand. My need for her nearly overwhelms me and I hold her hand to my mouth, breathing deep.
“Did you get no pleasure tonight, then?”
“My pleasure was entirely in pleasing you, my love.”
She pulls her hand from my grip and slides it down my chest, then moves to the waist of my pants. “Can I…touch you? The way you touched me?” And she boldly cups my cock.
The breath leaves my body. “You want to touch me?”
“Is it allowed?” She hesitates, starts to pull her hand from my groin.
I push it back there, because I want her touch more than I want air. “Anything you wish,” I tell her.
Halla’s lips part and then she caresses my cock with a bold stroke. I close my eyes, because her touch is making me desperately close to losing control.
“You’re bigger than I imagined,” she whispers, all the while her fingers tracing and outlining my length, learning it with a touch. “Are you sensitive here?” When I nod, she gives me a fascinated look, continuing to stroke me through my pants. “What feels good? How should I touch you? You knew how to caress me, and this is all new.” She leans in close to me, her lips near enough to brush over mine and whispers. “And I want to learn.”
With a groan, I grip her hand and show her just how to touch me. I don’t use the same gentle touches she does. Mine are brutal and swift, and the sight of her lips parting in wonder as I use her hand to rub myself to climax is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her name is on my tongue as I come, swift and hard. I spill into my leather breeches with an almost-painful joy and then fall back onto the blankets, utterly spent.