The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(45)

Then she recalled something else from earlier. Her hand glided between his legs to the sac below, where she cupped and squeezed him gently.

“Oh, hell. I cannot—” His hips began rocking, quick, shallow thrusts into her mouth as his fists clutched the bedclothes. “I am going to . . . I cannot . . . God, Maggie!” He ended on a shout, and that’s when she tasted the first spurt of thick, ropy liquid on her tongue.

His body spasmed as he spent himself in her mouth, and she held on, tightening her grip on him during the release as best she could. He gasped and bucked, his seed emptying deep into her throat. Finally, when he stopped shuddering, she released him and placed a kiss to his belly. She’d satisfied him. Made him lose control, even. She was nearly giddy with the happiness, drunk on the power.

“Come here,” he panted. Large hands slipped under her arms and he lifted her up next to him. Their eyes met, and his blue depths were soft and full of a tender emotion she felt down to her toes.

He swept her hair back off her face, gathering the heavy mass to one side. “Do you know,” he asked softly, “what I was thinking of while pleasuring myself?”

She shook her head and he continued, “I was imagining you doing precisely as you just did. And the reality, my sweet lady, far exceeded any of my imaginings.” Cupping the back of her neck, he drew her down slowly toward his mouth. “Kiss me. Let me taste you.”

Her mouth met his, and he immediately parted her lips with his tongue and swept inside. She kissed him eagerly, aggressively, feeding the spark between them.

After a moment, he rolled her to her back. “Now I must return the favor.”




Simon settled between Maggie’s thighs, certain he’d never needed to please a woman more.

He pressed tiny kisses over the soft creamy skin of her inner thigh. He could smell her arousal, could see the glisten of desire on her outer lips. For him. The sight could bring a man to his knees.

He took a moment to merely look at her. Pale skin, with blue veins traceable under the surface. A thatch of black hair covered her mound. Legs parted invitingly. The vision struck him as unbelievably erotic. “God, you are lovely,” he whispered.

With the tip of his tongue, he traced the outer edges of the plump lips that guarded her channel. “Simon!” she gasped and jumped a bit, so he slid his hands beneath her bottom to hold her.

Her reticence surprised him. Surely one of her other lovers had tasted her here. “Relax, Maggie. Let me pleasure you.”

Then he licked her from the bottom of her opening to the tiny bud at the top, barely registering her squeak of shock. How could he pay attention to anything else when she was bared before him, her sex so wet and swollen and undeniably delicious? The sweet tang of her arousal exploded on his tongue and he nearly groaned. He’d never get enough of the taste of her. Indeed, if a man could choose a way to perish, performing this service would be his dying wish.

She gave an inarticulate sound as he began to focus on that one spot, the small bundle of nerves where a woman’s pleasure concentrated. He teased and tormented, using his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and even his teeth, to drive her to madness, listening to her moans and cries to determine what she liked best.

Her hands clutched at his head, fingers threading in his hair to hold him as he continued to work at her. Within seconds, her thighs began to quiver and her body grew tight. He shifted to slip a finger inside her channel and achieved the desired result. She gave a hoarse shout, limbs convulsing while her inner walls clamped down. He loved how she held nothing back, her reaction as honest and enthusiastic as he’d ever experienced. Loved it so much, in fact, his erection now strained against the bedclothes, demanding attention.

When her shudders finally ceased, he crawled up and covered her body with his own. With her flushed skin, tousled black hair, and drowsy, satisfied expression, she was exquisite. He brushed her hair out of her face.

“That was quite wicked of you,” she panted.

“My dear lady, I haven’t even begun to show you wicked.” He bent to suck the hollow behind her ear and rolled his hips, dragging his swollen cock, against her sensitive flesh. “Next time I’ll lie on my back, bring you on top of me with your feet at my head. That way we can both give pleasure with our mouths simultaneously.”

She inhaled and arched up, obviously in accordance with that plan. He grinned and palmed her breast. “Like that, do you? Shall I tell you what else I’d like to do to you?” He rolled her hard, smooth nipple between his fingertips.

“Simon,” she sighed, her lids fluttering closed.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead.” Crawling down to her breasts, he shaped the luscious mounds with his hands. So lovely and plump. Perfect nipples that tasted like velvet. Lowering his head, he circled the puckered tip with his tongue. Her back bowed, pushing up toward his mouth, so he drew the bead inside and sucked hard.

She clutched him as he continued to lave the taut points of her breasts. When he had her writhing beneath him, soft mewling sounds in her throat, he rose up over her and slid inside. The warm, wet clasp fit him perfectly, and he closed his eyes against the surge of utter bliss. “Oh, Christ,” he heard himself rasp while struggling for control. He needed for this to last.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, pressing closer to urge him on, and instinct took over. Lust and need ripped through him, a force he was unable to resist—much like the woman beneath him. He drove deep again and again, his hips working, their bodies slapping together as he kept them joined. Her nails dug painfully into his back, her sweet gasps filled his ear. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow down.