A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(67)

She froze. “What?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. This—this—was why he had the rules about virgins. The lewd request had just flowed out of him, in a lascivious drawl.

“I’m drunk, Min.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Forget I said anything.”

“How could I forget you said that?” Her hand gripped his c**k tight, as if she could wring an answer from its tip. “What a suggestion. Do women really . . .” She swallowed, audibly. “Really?”

“Would you like to hear a very bald, very earthy, completely scientific truth?” He struggled up on his elbow, reaching one hand toward her face. He cupped her cheek in his hand, traced her parted lips with his thumb. “You,” he whispered hoarsely, “have the most goddamned erotic mouth I’ve ever seen. These sweet, plump lips drive me wild. It’s impossible to look at you and not . . . not wonder, how it would be.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’ve wondered.”

He nodded. “Oh yes.”

“Y-you’ve actually spent time—”

“Hours, probably, if you added it up.”

“Thinking about—”

“This.” He slid his thumb between her startled lips, pressing it deep into her hot, wet mouth. “Yes.”

They stared at each other, unmoving. Then, after a prolonged, excruciating hesitation, she closed her lips around his thumb. Her tongue curled beneath it, gently tickling. Stroking. A bolt of sensation shot straight to his cock. He groaned with helpless pleasure.

“God, yes. That’s the way.” He slid his thumb out half an inch, then pushed it in again, deeper. Her cheeks hollowed as she lightly suckled. “You are unspeakably clever, Min. And so . . . so damned lovely.”

She moaned a little as he withdrew his thumb from her mouth. Her lips cinched him so tightly, he heard a small popping sound when it finally slipped free.

“Holy God,” he muttered, collapsing to the mattress. “You’ll kill me.”

She regarded his cock, holding it steady in her grip and giving it a bold, assessing look. Just the thought of watching his length disappear into her mouth . . . it was almost enough to bring him off, right then.

But then his damned conscience caught up with him. “Min, you needn’t . . . hell, you really shouldn’t.”

“Why not? You want it, don’t you?”

“With every corpuscle in my body, believe me. But I can’t ask it. And you shouldn’t offer. It would . . . it would make things awkward in the morning.”

She convulsed with laughter. “We can’t have that. Because we’ve been getting along so smoothly as it is.”

With a toss of her head, she flipped that mane of long, dark wavy hair over her shoulder, and then her head—that enticing mouth—began a slow yet steady descent. She was true scientific adventuress, this girl.

Rules.

He had to have some rule against this. And even if he didn’t have a standing rule—any code of conduct that allowed him to slide his c**k into a virgin’s mouth but not her cunny? Well, that code probably needed some rethinking.

But then her sweet kiss was upon him. And then he was in the hot, slick heaven of her mouth. No more thinking would happen tonight.

“Oh,” he moaned, as her warmth enveloped him. “Oh, Minerva.”

Her lips slid downward, slipping over the swollen crown of his erection and partway down the shaft. Then she suckled lightly, her tongue caressing him in sweet waves. His hips arched off the bed, and he cursed.

She pulled away, leaving his c**k glistening, aching, and quite possibly hard enough to crush stone. Colin struggled to master his disappointment. She’d performed her experiment, and now she was satisfied. He would not, could not ask for more.

But rather than abandon him entirely, she began to press little kisses up and down his length. He closed his eyes, reveling in the coy whispers of sensation. It was the sweetest torture he’d ever known.

When she took him in her mouth again, he slid deeper this time. Near halfway inside. Her slow, slippery retreat drove him wild with need. He writhed on the bedclothes, grappling for restraint.

No restraint to be found.

Rutting bass-tard that he was, he reached for her and did what he’d been longing to do for ages. He tangled his hand in all that dark, silky hair and made a tight fist. And then he guided her, teaching her how to please him. Dragging her lush, hot mouth up and down his length, in a deep, steady rhythm.

He was a cad. He was a monster. He was going to burn in the fires of hell.

It would be worth it.

“Yes,” he told her, wincing at the exquisite pleasure. “Min, that’s so good. You’re so good.”

He relaxed his grip on her hair, and she backed off him again, sitting straight.

“You don’t—” He gulped for air. “You don’t have to continue.” As if that made him some kind of generous saint.

She only smiled. First, she removed her spectacles, folded them, and set them aside. Then she readjusted her position, hiking her shift to her knees and straddling his sprawled leg as she bent to once again take him in her mouth.

He groaned. She was such a quick study. This was serious now. Shameless, he watched those plump, ripe lips sliding up down his cock. The tight, wet friction was only part of the pleasure. The rest came from the sweet triumph of being stroked by her, pleased by her. Most of all, just being inside her, in some way. He’d been wanting this so damn badly. Those nights of lying next to her, wanting to be inside her. To be part of her.