A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(81)

Minx. He could tease, as well.

He pursed his lips and blew, sending a current of air rushing over her nipple. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh, and a delicious shudder traveled through her body and straight into his.

He stretched his tongue—just the very tip of his tongue—and flicked over just the very tip of her nipple.

Then he pursed his lips and blew again.

“Samuel.”

He ached for contact and physical release, but the needy edge in her voice was satisfying in a different way. A deeper way.

She lowered her breast, rubbing its silky weight against his unshaven cheek. He closed his eyes as the sweet, tender berry of her nipple traced his bottom lip. He smiled—a rarity for him—just to stretch his lips and give her more distance to cover.

They spent several minutes like this—teasing, lightly tasting. Each baiting the other in turn. As if acknowledging they had a lifetime to enjoy this, so there was no reason to rush just now.

He lazily mouthed her br**sts—first one, then the other. She braced both hands on the headboard and leaned close, so he might alternate at will. Her breathing went ragged and a heady musk filled the air. As he licked at her ni**les, she began to rock in a slow, steady rhythm, grinding against his belly. He drew one peak into his mouth and suckled hard, until she gave a low moan.

She responded to him so naturally. He might have been able to make her come this way. But that couldn’t be enough for him now. That moan pushed him past some breaking point, and he craved more.

He let his head fall back against the pillow, releasing her glistening breast to the dark, cool air. He unlaced his hands from beneath his head and grasped her by the waist.

And then he pulled forward, drawing her toward his mouth.

She tensed. “Samuel.”

“You claimed to know there are other ways.”

“Yes, but—”

“You wanted to know my every dark, depraved fantasy.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s just—”

Her words broke off as he lifted her by the waist, resettling her so her knees rested on either side of his broad shoulders. The pose spread her wide. She was pink and dewy and beautiful. Perhaps he shouldn’t push her this far, this soon. But he was out of his mind with lust, couldn’t rest now until he tasted her. All of her.

“Hold the headboard,” he commanded.

“Are you certain this is right?”

“It’s perfect.” Then, more hoarsely, “You’re perfect.”

He parted her with his thumbs, opening her to his kiss. He needed to get his mouth on her, and then she’d warm to the idea.

He began slowly, just as he had with her br**sts. First teasing her with his breath, then sweeping light, flickering passes of his tongue all along her crease. He explored her every ridge and fold. When he focused his attentions on the swollen pearl at the crest, he heard a little sob of pleasure catch in her throat.

Yes.

Triumph pulsed through his veins. He gripped her hip, holding her still and close for his attentions. With his other hand, he reached for his own throbbing staff.

Easier this way, he thought. If he tended to matters himself, he wouldn’t be tempted to paw at her afterward. By taking himself in hand, he’d keep his baser needs under control.

It wouldn’t take long, for either of them. As he stroked his eager cock, he kept up a brisk, relentless rhythm with his tongue. With a bit of trial, he found the angle and rhythm that pleased her—one that had her gasping and arching against his open-mouthed kiss.

Yes. Move with me. Come for me.

Her mewling sighs of pleasure drove his own excitement to a dizzying peak. He’d never known anything so arousing in his life. She was so trusting, so completely spread open and vulnerable. So damned delicious against his tongue, positively molten with desire for him. For him. Perhaps he would never make her light up from within, but he could make her burn.

He could make her pant. And sigh. And moan.

This was a fantasy indeed. Lifting his eyes, he could watch her br**sts sway and bounce. Her thigh muscle gave a sweet quiver against his jaw, and he knew whatever thin cord of restraint was left to him would surely snap. Soon. Raw, animal need chased beneath the surface of his skin, seeking release.

He gripped his c**k tighter, pumped faster. So close.

“Samuel,” she gasped. “Samuel, I can’t—”

She cried out and bucked against his mouth, shaking the headboard with the force of her crisis.

Hearing his name on her lips, in that lusty voice . . . it sent him over the edge. His own climax erupted, wrenching his hips off the mattress. He came growling and shuddering, spilling his seed in forceful jets.

In the aftermath, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the muted patter of rain, and the hoarse, open-mouthed rasps of their breathing.

Well. She’d wanted carnality.

As soon as he could regain some strength in his limbs, he guided her aside and helped her settle onto the mattress. She curled next to him with her eyes closed, still working for breath.

She was so quiet for so long, he began to worry. Damn it. He must have shocked her too greatly. She was having regrets, wondering just what sort of beast she’d tethered herself to.

He stroked her hair, teasing out the rain-induced tangles with his fingers. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m well indeed. I’m just not sure how to look at you after that.”