Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(83)

He blinked as if awakening from a daze, his eyes growing wary. “No. No, of course not.”

“Now who lies?” she murmured as she gently squeezed, testing his hardness. “Would it hurt you if I took this out and touched it?”

He inhaled. “I think I could bear it.”

“Could you?”

“Please.”

His husky plea decided her. Carefully, delicately, she unbuttoned his smallclothes and pulled back the flaps. And then she simply looked.

He was truly magnificent, sitting in her worn armchair, his legs spread, his penis enormously erect. The fact that he still wore his shirt and breeches, hose and shoes, made the sight of his black pubic hair and ruddy cock all the more arousing. The sight was shockingly intimate. He looked like a king, arrogant and sure of his power.

“I love to look at you,” she said.

“Indeed?” he whispered, his voice a deep male purr.

She glanced up at him and at the same time wrapped her hand about his cock. “You’re sure you wouldn’t want me spread upon your bed? Powerless, helpless to your desire?”

His eyes had half closed, his cheeks flushed with sexual hunger. “I… I… perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” she murmured, her attention drawn back to the prize in her hands. Truth be told, her interest in the game had waned. “I’ve never known you to be uncertain as to your wants. Your desires.”

She squeezed very carefully, feeling the softness of his skin, the iron hardness underneath.

He gasped, arching his hips so that his cock thrust into her hands. “Damn it. Put it in your mouth.”

She bit her lip, a little shocked. She’d never done such a thing before. She stroked her finger over the tip of his penis, where a tiny slit leaked liquid. What would that liquid taste like in her mouth?

“Temperance,” he said, his voice very deep and very clear in the quiet room. “Suck me.”

She bent her head and stuck out her tongue hesitantly. And licked. She wrinkled her nose. It was salt and musk, not unpleasant, but not what she’d expected either.

Above her, he moaned. “Please.”

Oh, to hear him beg. There was something in her, something wicked and base that lapped up that plea in his voice. She opened her mouth and placed the head of his cock inside.

Sucked.

His hips jerked, jamming his cock farther into her mouth. She almost backed off, but then she held him more firmly and flattened her tongue against him, sucking gently. His hands came up, stroking her head. She felt him take the pins from her hair, wrapping his hands in the locks, pulling gently. She wasn’t sure he even knew what he did. She leaned back a little, letting him slide from her mouth so she could look up at him.

He was watching her.

The knowledge made her wet. She laid her tongue against him and, locking her eyes with his, licked all the way around the head of his cock.

“Jesus.” His jaw gritted, flexing in the firelight.

She stroked down on his penis and opened her lips about him, sucking gently on the very tip.

His face was strained, the muscles standing out on his arms. “Take it deeper.”

And she did, swallowing as much of him as she could, her eyes still on his even as his hips moved under her. He covered her hand with his own to help her stroke faster.

He was gasping now, his cheeks furrowed, his face flushed. “Do you want it?” he whispered. “Stop now if you can’t take it.”

She couldn’t talk—her mouth was full of his cock—but she wanted to see this. Wanted to bring him to the inevitable end. She watched him as she felt his cock swell in her mouth. Watched him as his hand jerked powerfully on his length. Watched him as he bared his teeth.

“Ah, God!”

She tasted salt and warmth. Felt tears fill her eyes as he spasmed helplessly. He was big and strong, but she’d brought him to this point.

She licked him as he softened, feeling tender, feeling somehow lost.

“Come here,” he ordered, and pulled her into his arms.

He tucked her head under his chin, and they lay there for long moments as he stroked her hair. Then he began to pull her skirts up. Wordlessly, relentlessly, he uncovered her limbs until she lay sprawled on him, the fabric of her skirts around her waist.

He looked down and she followed his gaze. Her dark curls were a shocking contrast to the whiteness of her skin. She wasn’t used to this, to a man examining her in the firelight, and she started to pull down her skirts to cover her nudity.

“Don’t.” He stayed her hand, his eyes meeting hers in command. “I want to see you.”

She shook her head, but the movement was weak.

He moved his hand to the juncture of her thighs, and she turned her head, hiding her face in his shoulder. She felt him pet her, stroking through her curls.

“Open your legs,” he said quietly.

She complied, swallowing shallowly, waiting for his touch.

It was so delicate when it came that she almost missed it. He skimmed her inner thighs, up close to where her center waited for him. But then he skirted up, around her mound, touching only the edges of her hair.

“Watch,” he said.

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

She inhaled and raised her head.

His big hand lay over her mound, his fingers spread possessively.