Winterberry Spark: A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella (The Silver Foxes of Westminster #2.5)(24)

“We’ll keep the door open,” he said, leading her to the bed, then kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his jacket, waistcoat, and suspenders. “Just in case she wakes.”

“I hope she doesn’t,” Ruby admitted breathlessly. She felt like laughing as she pulled her blouse up over her head, then unhooked her loose corset.

They shed their clothes as fast as possible, then reached for each other. Ruby gasped at the brush of her skin against his. He was warm and fit, far more so than his clothes hinted at. Her body molded perfectly to his as he embraced her. She lifted a leg against his, and he caught it, pulling her knee up over his hip. The gesture brought his thick, hard staff right up against her belly.

She hummed, unable to find the words to tell him how much she desired him. His mouth covered hers, drowning out any words she would have found. She dug her fingertips into his back, so happy to be touching him and bringing him pleasure that she could have wept for joy. But she was done with tears. Now she wanted only sighs of pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he sighed against her ear, kissing her cheek and her neck, then nibbling lower. “I want this to last forever.”

“Me too,” she managed to say before nudging him toward the bed.

He followed her cue, lifting her and turning. They spilled across the bed in an ungraceful pile, still reaching for each other. Ruby stroked his side as they lay facing each other, lips alternately teasing and locking in deep, passionate kisses. She could hardly believe he was real, that he was truly in her arms at last, and indulged in touching as much of him as she could to prove it to herself. She lingered on the firm muscles of his backside, teasing his cleft. He jerked at the unexpected touch, then growled as though he liked it.

There were things she knew, things she had learned in the darkest moments of her life, that suddenly felt exciting. Everything she’d hated about knowing what men liked from a woman in bed took on a new sense of excitement. She pushed Gil’s shoulder gently, rolling him to his back, then straddled him. He met her eyes with a look of confusion, but that vanished as she bent forward to kiss him.

His hands traveled up her thighs to caress her backside as she teased his mouth with her tongue and lips. A rare feeling of control filled her as she threaded her fingers through his hair. She shifted down his body, kissing her way over his shoulders to his chest. His light dusting of hair tickled her nose as she stroked one of his nipples with her tongue. He made a sound of enjoyment deep in his throat, his hands splaying across the back of her shoulders. His cock was hot and hard against her stomach.

She wanted more of it, more of him. He’d relaxed into the pleasure of their love-making, but as she moved lower, drawing her hands down and reaching for the tight sack hanging below his cock, he tensed. A sound that was half passion, half question rumbled from his throat, but she didn’t stop. She shifted lower, fondling him and stroking the area just behind his sack. Heat radiated from him, and a fine sweat broke out across his skin.

Her heart pounded, and her whole body ached with need as she slid a hand up his staff, holding it so that she could close her mouth over his head. He sucked in a breath as she kissed him, brushing her tongue over the pearl of moisture weeping from his slit.

“Ruby,” he gasped, tangling his fingers in her hair.

His tone was tense, and she was afraid he would ask her to stop, but she didn’t want to. She had to erase the memories of every man who had forced her to do what she was doing and replace them with the power of making the decision for herself. She drew him in farther, stroking her tongue along the underside of his flared tip, teasing the spot she knew was most sensitive. Gil gasped, and she could tell he was trying to hold himself back from thrusting into her mouth.

She lowered herself farther, taking more of him in, then sliding out, only to repeat the motion. He tried to swallow a groan of pleasure as she splayed her hands across his thighs, moving faster and deeper on him. It was an utter paradox that she felt so powerful while doing something that had once been so demeaning, but she was bringing him to his knees, rendering him incapable of anything but desire and primal urges.

“Enough,” he gasped, gripping her shoulders.

Ruby stopped and lifted to her hands and knees, panting. “Do you like it?”

A laugh rumbled up from him, sending tingles across her skin. “My love, I like it so much that I’m afraid this will all be over in a matter of seconds if you don’t stop.”

She giggled, surprised by the ridiculous sound and the lightness in her heart, and slid up his overheated body to kiss him once more. He took charge, flipping her to her back and lifting her leg over his hip.

“That’s more like it,” he said, kissing her lips, her neck, then her shoulder.

“Yes, it is,” she sighed.

The pleasure that coursed through her was the last thing she expected to feel as he took charge. There was no shame, no fear, and no discomfort as he stroked her skin, closing a hand around one of her breasts. He didn’t squeeze too hard or demand too much. He wasn’t using her for his own pleasure, he was giving her as much as she gave him. Nothing in her entire life had ever been so wonderful.

“You have beautiful breasts,” he said, his voice thick with desire, as he cradled one and kissed the other. “I nearly changed my mind about not touching you that first night when you showed them to me.”

“Really?”