Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(90)

She shivered at his growled words. Why did they delight her so? And did he mean them? He kept mentioning tying her, but he’d never … Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that she rather wondered what it would be like.

Closing her eyes for a second, she tried to calm herself, to take just one second to steady herself from the emotions and sensations that shook her to the core. Then, opening her eyes, she reached out and with the tip of her tongue swept up the single drop of pearly liquid.

He shuddered, his body reacting to her every breath. Using only her tongue, she explored his length: the subtle change in skin texture, the ridges and knobs, the pulse of strength and power. Cautiously she moved down to the base and the sac of his bollocks. The deep scent of musk and soap filled her nostrils.

Where had he bathed after his ride? He had not returned to his chamber. The thought flitted away as she gave herself over to her task, but not before she decided she’d rather like him smelling right now of leather, horse, sweat, and man.

The sac was soft save for its dual hard cores. She ran her tongue over it, the harsh bristle of dark hair so different from the smooth skin of his prick. The balls tightened at her touch and she opened her mouth, cupping it about one and then the other. He moved restlessly in his chair, the muscles of his thighs bunching beneath her touch. His hands grabbed the sides of the chair, his fingers whitening as they gripped tight. She used her tongue, brushing along the rough surface and sucking softly.

A deep breath whistled from his lips.

With care she released the balls, letting them slide slowly from between her lips. She glanced up and found him staring down beneath hooded lids, his whole focus upon her: upon her mouth, upon the joining of their flesh.

Using her tongue as a guide, she slid it up his hard length. One of his hands left the chair and settled in her hair, firm but not tight, positioning her as he wished. When her lips reached the heavy head, she laid a light kiss upon its tip and then slowly eased her lips about it, stretching wide, taking care to keep teeth cushioned by lip. Her eyes closed at the sensation as his cock slid against the roof of her mouth, the warm flesh filling her. Her thighs pressed tight. She eased farther forward, loosening her cheeks as she strove to take more. Her tongue played against the throbbing vein.

She pulled back, eased forward again.

A groan tore from his lips.

Her eyes remained closed as she concentrated on nothing but him, on nothing but the sensations that filled her, on the steady ache for more that grew and grew.

Again and again she pulled back and thrust forward, her lips and cheeks squeezing with effort. The hand in her hair set the pace, guided her, urged her forward and held her back.

And on each forward move she felt more of him, allowing his length to slip deeper into her throat, the muscles in her neck softening to allow him access.

He groaned again, the sound tearing from his body as his thighs strained from the chair, forcing himself deeper between her lips.

It was too much. Her lips and cheeks ached. It was nigh impossible to breathe—her nose pressed tight against his flesh, her mouth so full not even a wisp of air could pass through.

And yet it was wonderful. She could feel the throb of him against her tongue, the strain of his legs against her chest, his fingers tightening and loosening against her hair.

The sounds that came from him were almost animal now. His second hand joined the first in her hair, speeding the pace, increasing the urgency.

His hips rose from the chair, thrusting against her.

Power filled her. Power and desire and need—his and her own, the throb between her legs growing steadily as she felt him coming undone.

Tears again formed in her eyes as she strained to stay soft, to stay as he needed, to keep her throat open to him.

With sudden force, his fingers dug into her scalp, his hips rising to piston against her as he pressed deeper, faster, harder. She fought to match his pace, and felt the vein that beat against her tongue grow, felt the sudden press of warmth as he thrust deep, his seed spurting fast and strong.

His hips strained hard, holding themselves raised and tight as her name filled the room.

It was all she could do to swallow, but she did so, again and again as he continued to come, filling her with each pulse.

Finally, his breath grew shallow and his hips eased down to the chair, the muscles of his clenched thighs relaxing.

She held still, cradling him with her cheeks and lips as the strong member softened and reduced within her mouth. Then she eased back, sliding her lips along his length as he slipped from her.

It took a moment, but she raised her head then, looking to his eyes to give her answers, to give her reward.

Satisfaction filled her—and yet want, too. There had been such pleasure in her efforts, but now her body ached with its own needs.

His eyes were warm. Yes, the reward was there. He held out a hand, helping her to her feet, before fastening the closure of his trousers.

“That was very good,” he said softly, the rich tones surrounding her.

Her tired cheeks lifted in a smile. He raised his hand and brushed it upon her swollen lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of that. Every time I saw you in those tight, contained braids I imagined you on your knees before me, your lips parted. I imagined feeding myself into you until you could take no more and then f*cking these sweet lips until I lost all thought.”

Her whole body clenched at the image, her unmet desires raging.