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He shouldn’t have allowed his virginal bride to go down on her knees in his white robe with nothing else on. He shouldn’t have let her take him in her sweet, hot mouth, not when he was still trying to decide if he wanted to keep her. He was an ass. Selfish, ruthless, uncaring.
And desperately aroused.
So unusual for him and his numb body.
“You don’t have to do that,” he rasped, involuntarily reaching out to run the pad of his thumb across the sweep of her cheekbone. Her skin was soft, and warm. He wondered if she was as warm between her thighs. He wondered if she was wet.
“Why not?” she answered unsteadily. “Am I doing it wrong?”
Her question, in her low, throaty voice, made his body shudder. It didn’t help that she followed her question with a light lick up the side of his shaft. He felt her lick all the way to the base of his penis, his balls tightening with pleasure. “You are doing quite well,” he gritted.
The corner of her lips turned up, her long black lashes lowering over eyes that seemed to gleam with satisfaction. He’d never seen anything so erotic, this curvaceous little siren, his unexpected, swapped bride.
“I want to make you come,” she whispered, “but obviously I’m not doing something right because it hasn’t happened.”
“It hasn’t happened because I’m holding myself back.”
For a moment there was just silence as her eyes widened as she processed what he’d said.
And then she rose slightly on her knees, her face lifting, expression surprised. “You can do that?”
“I can do many things.”
Her expression shifted, increasingly curious and mind-blowingly sensual, reminding him of a courtesan rather than an untutored virgin. “Show me,” she said, her hands on his inner thighs, her fingertips against the base of his shaft.
He clamped his jaw tight, fighting to steady his breathing. He had no idea why she tested his control. At twenty-three she was thirteen years younger than he, but in that moment he felt as if she had all the power and experience. “Show you what, gataki?”
“How to do it. How to make you feel so good that you can’t...hold back.”
“I think you’re doing fine for a beginner.”
“Fine is my least favorite word in the English language. Fine indicates mediocrity. I hate mediocrity.”
He found himself almost smiling and then he clasped her face and kissed her deeply, claiming her mouth the way he should have in the beginning. She froze and stiffened, and then after a moment her lips softened, parting for him.
It was in that moment he stopped vacillating.
It was in that moment when she opened her mouth, giving herself to him, that he knew he would take her, claim her and make her his.
There would be no turning back. Not now, not anymore.
He took her mouth the way he intended to take her—with single-minded focus, his tongue sweeping the seam of her lips before thrusting into the warmth of her mouth and finding the hollows of her cheeks, the inside of her lips, the pressure and release so similar to what his body would do to hers, and how he’d find a rhythm and make her feel.
She whimpered softly, her hands reaching up to cover his, her fingers wrapping around his wrists. But she wasn’t pulling his hands away. No, she was pressing his hands against her jaw, pressing him to her for more sensation even as her fingertips stroked the inside of his wrists and the sensitive mound of his palms.
Blood roared through his ears, pulsing in his veins. He felt his shaft bob, thick and heavy with need.
Sweeping her into his arms, Damen carried Kassiani to the bed. She lay on her back, looking up at him, the white robe parting to reveal pale skin. Her curves were ripe, the fabric clinging to the blatant fullness of her breasts and swell of her tummy. He tugged on the sash of the robe, untying it before pushing the robe back, exposing her.
She was an hourglass—full breasts with dark pink nipples, narrow waist and generous hips perfect to cradle him. He’d expected her to have a patch of trimmed dark curls, but instead she was bare, and the sight of her so smooth tested his control.
He needed to take it slowly, though. She wasn’t experienced. He didn’t want to hurt her. It was important she was ready for him.
“Eísai axiagápitos,” he murmured, telling her she was lovely, because she was. The dark pink of her nipples were in stark contrast to her alabaster skin, and the tight tips called to him, as did the bareness between her thighs.
He leaned over her to lightly trace one puckered areola with his tongue, before turning to the other. Each swirl of his tongue was awesome. He leaned over her, his mouth closing over one taut nipple and sucking it the way she’d sucked his cock.
She whimpered, one hand pressed to the mattress, fingers flexed as he worked the sensitive peak. He cupped her other breast as he teased and nipped at her nipple, enjoying her soft, hoarse cries of pleasure. Her skin was warm and satiny smooth as he pressed a kiss between her breasts, and then lower to her trembling belly.
Every kiss he placed was rewarded with another throaty pant of pleasure. He continued kissing lower, even as he caressed up, shaping her, discovering how very sensitive she was.
He pressed one of her knees down, creating space for him, and he found himself just wanting to look at her, and drink in her feminine shape—soft curves and secret shadows. His shaft ached.
Damen dipped his head, his lips brushing the inside of her creamy thigh. She sighed at the feel of his lips. She sighed and stirred restlessly as he continued kissing his way up the inside of her thigh, his tongue drawing lazy circles on the tender skin where her thigh joined her hip.
Her skin burned and she smelled sweet, like honey in the sun. He wanted to drink her, but he was determined to make her wait, wanting her fully aroused, and wet, before he entered her.
She squirmed and exhaled hard as he placed a kiss at the top of her mound, just above her lips.
She exhaled again, another devastatingly sexy gasp of pleasure and wonder, as he breathed on her, letting his breath warm her, and tease her.
“You are bare,” he said, stroking her mound with a fingertip, lightly caressing the plump outer lip that was perfectly smooth. “You’ve been waxed.”
She shuddered and closed her eyes. “I was told you would prefer me this way.”
“Who told you?”
She shook her head, her teeth catching on her lower lip.
He continued stroking her, lightly down the one side and then up over the other until he reached the top again.
Her thighs were trembling. Her body quivered and she was breathing more quickly, her breasts rising and falling, her nipples even tighter than they’d been a moment ago.
“Have you ever been waxed before?” he asked, his tongue dipping between those plump bare lips to flick across her.
She jumped at the touch, reaching for him with one hand, her fingers brushing his shoulder before tangling in his hair.
“Hmm?” he persisted, tongue tracing her folds, discovering she wasn’t just damp, but wet. Soaked. Her hips rotated beneath him and he licked the silken inner lips, tasting her. She tasted like sun-kissed honey, too, hot and sweet.
“Never waxed before,” she panted, as he used two fingers to trace her, and shape her, her outer lips, then her inner lips, skirting her damp core.
“Do you like it like this?” he asked, his mouth following his fingers, teasing, tasting, turning her into a mass of quivering nerve endings. “So smooth and bare?”
“It’s different—” And she broke off in a gasp as he drew her clit into his mouth, sucking on the nub, even as he slipped his fingers inside her, stroking her on the inside.
Her hips rose and fell as he played her, and when she cried out as she climaxed, he gave her a moment to settle before spreading her knees and sinking into her, claiming her as his, forevermore.
