How to Marry a Marble Marquis(57)
Dragging her nails down his marble chest, she scraped over his stomach, detouring around his groin to tease his well-muscled thighs. His cock was a rigid marble staff, jutting into the air as if it were waiting to have a flag run up it, just as swollen and stiff as it had been when she had left him that morning.
“Do you like the way my cock fills you, Lady Stride? Are you ready to come for me? I want to feel this sweet pussy flower squeeze me.” His words had been a taunting growl at her ear, holding her steady as she rode him, one final bit of pleasure before he turned.
Silas liked emptying his balls just before dawn, claiming his sleep was most restful after a good fucking, and then again shortly after twilight, when he woke, clearing his head for the night to come. Most nights she loved obliging him, for Silas Stride was a rake of his word and always, always saw to her pleasure . . . but some nights it was good to remind him that even the Marquis of Basingstone could not always get everything he wanted.
She had become very good at learning how to time her climaxes. Eleanor wished she could say it was an accident, that she often came around her husband’s cock just a moment before he turned, clenching him tightly with her muscles, milking him as she spasmed, her arm around his neck as she moaned out her pleasure . . . just too late for him to spill his seed.
It was an exquisite torture. He would be right there, poised on the edge of his peak, his knot swollen and throbbing, heavy bollocks pulled tight to his body, eager to empty, and then . . . nothing, as he stiffened to marble, unable to move, unable to cum, unable to voice his frustration at all. He would be left with the aching agony of unfulfillment all day until she returned at dusk to put him out of his misery, as she was readying to do then.
“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad, darling,” she murmured, kissing his jaw as she cupped his balls, squeezing the unyielding stone. It was just close enough to twilight that she knew he could feel her touch. She dragged her fingers up his cock slowly, rubbing her thumb over the pronounced ridges, before dropping to her knees. “You’ve been a very good boy lately; I think you’ve earned this.” She licked a broad stripe up his swollen shaft, grinning at how fat and full he was. He was likely going to erupt the instant he regained movement, and she was going to be ready. In the meantime, she would give him a bit of encouragement.
Her lessons with the Marquis of Basingstone had not ceased after the ball. Her husband had been a world-class rake, after all, and it seemed foolish to stop improving her own love-making skills once they were wed. It was for her betterment and their own enjoyment, and Eleanor found she did so enjoy taking him to pieces with her mouth. She laved her tongue over his cockhead, pressing into the seam of his slit, letting her teeth graze over the flared marble edge. She hummed again as she sucked him deeply, tightening her lips on her pullback and releasing him with a pop.
The sun had disappeared beyond the edge of the world, and she knew she only had a matter of minutes, if that. The first press of his cold marble tip made her gasp, as it always did, shivering as she sunk down on him slowly, the only thing that could soothe the fire in her blood. It had been a challenge, at first, learning to take him this way. The unyielding hardness coupled with his girth was an eye-watering press, and it had been painful until she’d learned that backing up on him was a gentler angle, easier for her muscles to loosen and her cunt to swallow him.
“It’s so unfortunate that you were left in such a state, my lord,” she murmured, twisting her head back to kiss the corner of his mouth. His face was frozen in a grimace, the agony of being past the point of no return and still unable to achieve completion, twisting his handsome features. She began to move, fucking herself on her husband’s marble cock, every vein and ridge that she loved, frozen for her enjoyment. The ridges at the base of his head rubbed over the spot within her he had discovered, one that made her toes curl and thighs tremble, as they did then. “It makes it far too easy to take lewd advantage of you whilst you sleep. I wonder how quickly you’re going to spill your seed when you wake.”
It did not take long for her question to receive its answer. Eleanor cried out in surprise as she was pushed forward, his arm around her waist breaking her fall, somehow winding up on her hands and knees at the base of his throne, his cock hot and alive, driving into her savagely.
“Minx,” he hissed at her neck. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, and it felt as if he were using his entire lower body to thrust into her. His thighs flexed, the slap of his balls an obscene percussion, and Eleanor keened. “You are going to pay for that, you devious little —“ He dropped to his knees, covering her body with his as his cock erupted, words forgotten. Eleanor linked her fingers with his as he groaned against her shoulder, fangs nipping at her skin, wide wings stretching, covering them like a canopy. He had stayed his knot, and she felt it pulsing at the lips of her sex as he emptied, relieved he’d had the cognizance to understand she was not sufficiently prepped to take the protrusion. Incorrigible, but the very best butterfly. She stretched an arm back to stroke his ear as his cock spit up the final vestiges of his day-long torture, one final spurt before his hips eased their fervor.
When he finally slumped against her, pulling out carefully a moment later, she turned into his arms. “You know, it’s very easy to take advantage of you when you sleep with your cock out.”
“Minx,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “I thought about trying to tip myself over this morning, thought I might be able to break it off, put an end to the agony.”