Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)(88)

Because she wanted him, too.

He ground his hips against hers, and she moaned around his tongue. There was nothing like the feel of this, his body hard and eager and crushed against hers. Knowing that she’d made him this way, driven him desperate with need until nothing—not pride or money or lies—could keep him away.

He pulled away suddenly, rising up to his knees. His shirt fluttered up over his head, a white sail caught in the moonlight and swept away into shadow. He reached between them, loosening the cord of his trousers. As he worked the knot, the back of his hand brushed against her mound, and Sophia gave a wanton sigh. When he finished, she bent her knees and hooked her toes under the loosened waistband. He leaned over her again, and she slowly dragged the trousers down over his hips, savoring the feel of hard muscle and downy hair under the arches of her feet. She felt his erection spring free and brush against her thigh. They moaned in unison. And that was the final leisurely caress. They moved quickly now—to seize this time, this pleasure, this chance, before it could slip away into the night. He kicked off his trousers, and together they tussled with her chemise, bunching it up to her br**sts and tugging it over her head.

“Gray,” she whispered, reaching for him in the dark.

“I want you.” He buried his face in her hair as they tumbled back onto the pillows. “God, how I want you. I want to kiss you.” He pressed his lips to her ear, her neck, the small notch at the base of her throat. “Touch you.” His hands, rough with fresh calluses, roamed over her br**sts and hips, kneading greedy handfuls of flesh. “Lick you.”

Sophia shivered at the mere words, and when his tongue made hot, wet contact with her skin, she gasped. A trail of gooseflesh rose up in the wake of his tongue as he traced the slope of her collarbone.

“I want to suckle you,” he murmured against her skin, sliding down her body to draw her nipple into his mouth. She arched, gasping his name. He pulled gently at first, holding the tight bud firmly between his lips as his tongue flicked lightly over the peak. Sparks danced over her skin with each teasing caress. Then he sucked harder, catching her nipple between his teeth, and pleasure mingled with pain. Sophia twined her hands into his hair, digging her fingernails into his scalp—whether to wrench him away or hold him there forever, she didn’t know.

Then he released her nipple, and his rough chin scraped against her breast. She opened her eyes to find him staring up at her, studying her intently in the darkness, as if counting her shallow breaths. Dark-blue eyes reflected tiny silver moons. All the while, his fingers toyed with her other nipple, pinching and rolling it until she bit back a moan.

“Sweet,” he said, the smooth edge of his voice frayed. “I want to taste you. Let me taste you.”

Hooking one arm under each of her knees, he sank between her thighs. Sophia gasped as he raised his shoulders, pushing her knees to her hips and spreading her legs wide. Her eyes squeezed shut. Never had she felt so naked, so exposed. She gave thanks for the robe of shadow night afforded her.

The darkness did not hinder Gray. His mouth went straight to her core. Sophia bucked when his tongue delved into the cleft of her sex.

“Shhh.” The rush of his breath caressed her most intimate places. “Trust me.”

Inhaling slowly, she willed herself to relax. “Yes.”

He bent his head again, learning her body with his mouth, seeking the center of her pleasure. How could such tender, gentle exploration give rise to sensations so unbearably acute? His hands tightened over her hips, holding her down while his lips and tongue teased her most sensitive spot. And when his tongue dipped inside her, she cried out.

The climax burst through her, wave after wave of bliss rippling out from her center. And even as the tremors faded, he kept up his efforts, licking and gently suckling her swollen flesh.

“Gray,” she panted, tugging on his hair. “Gray, please.”

He unthreaded his arms from her legs and kissed his way up her belly before sitting back on his heels. “I want you.” He pushed her knees wide. “I want to know that you will never spread these legs for another man.” He wedged his hips snugly between her thighs and pushed into her, an inch. Sophia whimpered and reached for him.

He caught her hands in his, interlacing their fingers. Her arms bent at the elbows as he leaned forward, pinning her hands to the pillow.

“I want to know that no other man will ever have this.” He pushed in a bit further.

It wasn’t enough. Sophia strained toward him, wrapping her legs over his.

“Gray. Oh, God. More.”

He thrust into her roughly, his fingers tightening over hers. “I want you to know that you are mine.” He withdrew and thrust again, this time sheathing himself to the hilt. “Mine.” Thrust. “Mine.”

Sophia’s body sang under his tender assault, even as her heart ached. She longed to wrap her arms around him, draw him close. Whisper promises into his ear and hold him until he understood not just that she was his, but that he was hers. He was striving so hard to conquer her, but she knew all he wanted, in his heart, was to be claimed.

He held her hands in iron grips as he pushed into her, again and again. Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto her br**sts and her neck. The bed protested his every stroke, and she moaned with it.

“I want you.” Rasping breaths broke up his words; he punctuated each phrase with a thrust. “I want you … to be mine. Now. Always.”