Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(68)

“Should I stop?” he asked, sliding a finger into her.

“God, no.” His finger dipped deeper, working slowly in and out. Lucy moaned against the back of her hand.

Then he was next to her, kissing his way back up her body, stretching out alongside her. Hard heat throbbed against her hip. His tongue flashed into her ear. The heel of his palm rocked against her as his finger worked in and out and in and out, and Lucy … Lucy wasready . Ready, willing, eager, prepared. Hot, liquid anticipation coursed through her veins. She was sinking through dark and wild and wet and hot, and she was ready, ready, ready. Ready for something to happen. Ready for it to never end. Never never ever ever end.

Waves of pleasure rocked through her. Flooding her, filling her. Forcing out everything else. Her hand fell away from her mouth, and a helpless cry surged from deep in her belly, wrenching into her throat. He clamped his lips over hers and took her cry into him. Joy, confusion, frustration, fear—she poured them all into one long, rapturous cry against his mouth. And he took it all. Took everything she gave, drinking it in, probing deep with his tongue to leave nothing behind.

He caressed her softly as she floated back down. Back into herself.

Oh, my.

Her body felt wonderfully languid, but soon restless questions churned in her mind. How could he know her body so well—so easily stir sensations it had taken her sixteen years to discover on her own? Ones she’d never discovered at all? How did she go about learninghis secrets, makinghim ready? And was this truly just preparation? What pleasure came next?

So many questions, and she lacked the words to even phrase them. When at last she thought she could trust it again, she tried her voice. “Jeremy?”

“Yes?”

“What is it called, that … that thing that just happened to me?”

He paused. “Well, there are several words for it.”

“Only several?” Lucy marveled. “I would think there’d be hundreds. Thousands might not be enough.”

He nipped her ear playfully. “What? Weren’t a few of them in your book?”

Lucy batted his shoulder with her palm. “I thought we discussed the limitations of book learning.” He kept nibbling her earlobe. She sighed and ran her fingertips down the strong muscles of his arm. “And it can happen to you?”

She felt his arousal throb in his breeches, prodding against the curve of her hip. “Yes,” he murmured against her neck.

“But it didn’t … not yet.”

“No.”

“Then why are you just lying there?” She pushed him away slightly and turned to meet his eyes. “How can you stand it?”

A strangled laugh tore from his chest as he rose to his knees. “With great effort.”

She rolled onto her side and reached for the fastenings of his breeches. Her hand brushed over the stiff, straining bulge in front. It jumped. Lucy was fascinated. She rose up on her elbow, working the buttons loose with her other hand. He finally took the task from her, freeing the last few buttons, pushing the fabric down over his hips. Leaving her hand free to explore.

And what she discovered, she would have never imagined. The hardness and strength, yes. He was hard and strong, in general. But the delicate softness, she could have never dreamed. Velvet soft, and lightly ridged. Like a kitten’s ear. She let her palm glide over his length. He jerked away from her hand, and she curled her fingers around him tight. So he couldn’t get away.

He exhaled forcefully. A rough, faintly dangerous sound. “Lucy, we don’t have to do this. We can wait.” He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Ican wait.”

“Whatever for?” She stroked him again, and he made a low growl in the back of his throat. “You want me, don’t you?”

Brushing her hand away, he kicked out of his breeches and lay down on his side, facing her. Staring into her eyes with a look so deep, so intense, Lucy’s whole body came alive with tingling. The narrow space between their bodies crackled with electricity, and when his hand shot out to cup her face, the shock sparked to the soles of her feet. “God, Lucy,” he said roughly. “You can’t know how I’ve wanted you.”

“Can’t I?” She slid closer to him, until her ni**les just grazed his chest. “Tell me,” she whispered, gliding her hand down his muscled back and over the taut swell of his bu**ocks.

He shuddered as she gently squeezed. “Not enough words.” His hand slid around to fist in her hair, and he angled her head back to trail hot kisses along her neck. “I would need more than several,” he murmured, his tongue weaving a wicked path downward. “Thousands might not be enough.”

“Then show me.” Lucy hooked her leg over his, tightened her grip on his backside, and rolled onto her back, pulling him with her. He settled between her legs, grinding his hard, pulsing heat against her mound. Pleasure echoed through her as she arched against him, and their moans mingled in an urgent kiss.

He rested his forehead against hers. “Lucy, I can’t—” His breath rushed over her face, hot and thick, like steam. He swallowed hard. She could feel himthere , pressing against her entrance. Poised to make her his.

“There is no going back from this,” he said, his voice strained. “If it isn’t … If you aren’t …” He nudged closer still, sliding into her a bit. She ached around him. Achedfor him. He gritted his teeth. “Just push me away.”