All she saw was pure, hot, white.
One hand slipped around her back, holding her against his lips. “Gods, Gwen.” He moaned against her heated skin. “Bet I could get you off just doing this. You’re so damn responsive.”
She whimpered,helpless, chest rising to meet his mouth, the belt taut above her head.
“Please,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or keep going.
He looked up at her then — flushed, ravenous, and smiling likethe devil had blessed him personally. “Please what, my queen?”
She could barely speak. Her voice cracked. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to make you scream, just with my mouth, my fingers, myteeth,on your tits, baby? Is that what you want?” He had always been vocal in bed, but this…
This was enough to put her over the edge alone.
She didn’t trust her words once more. So she nodded, fingers flexing above her head.
“Wicked thing.” But he descended on her like a man starved, sucking her nipple into his mouth with a smirk still plastered across his face.
She writhed beneath him as he swirled his tongue over her sensitive skin, whimpering softly. “Like that?”
Another nod.
He replaced his tongue with teeth, using light pressure to squeeze her nipple between them.
She gasped, one leg moving upwards without her permission, desperately seeking his touch.
“Now,” he pulled back from her completely, the air cold around her slick skin. “I said…” His hand came down, pressing her leg into the bed with ease. “Legs. Down.”
“Touch me, Lance.” She panted, hips jerking, searching. “Please, touch me.”
“No.” He kneaded her in his hand, fingers brushing her nipple once more. “This is what you asked for. This is what you’ll get.” His words were sterner now as he pinched,hard, on her nipple.
Her back arched again, puny pleas tugging from her lips as she waited.
And he waited too.
Waited until she was trembling again, eyes wet, lips bitten raw from trying to hold back every whimper that still managed to escape her throat.
“You feel that?” he murmured, pinching her nipple between two fingers and twisting just enough to make her cry out. “That burn in your stomach? That ache between your legs?” He leaned in, breath hot against her mouth. “That’s mine.”
Her breath hitched. His voice was low, reverent now, hungry in a different way.
“You begged for this,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Begged me to be gentle.” His hand traveled lower, dragging along the edge of her ribs, across her trembling stomach. “So I’m going to be. Slowly. Until you can’t remember your own name.”
She shuddered violently, toes curling into the sheets.
“But I remember,” he growled, brushing his knuckles just above her navel, so close to where she ached she nearly sobbed. “I remember what it is.Guinevere.My queen.”
He ducked down again, lips trailing a hot path between her breasts this time, his stubble scraping deliciously against oversensitive skin. “Say it,” he demanded, voice raw, vibrating through her ribs.
“Please,” she gasped. “Lancelot. Please…please.”
He laughed — dark, wrecked, heady with pride and need. “Gods, I’ll never get enough of you saying that.”
His fingers finally slid between her thighs, pressing lightly against her opening, and he groaned — low, filthy, reverent. “So wet,” he murmured, dragging one knuckle up through her arousal, watching her twitch. “You were like this just from my mouth, sweetheart? Just from me using you a little?”
She whimpered in response, hips jerking again, helpless beneath him. “Stay still,” he growled, pinning her thighs apart with a forearm as he slid the other hand beneath the thin cloth. He found her instantly slick and pulsing. “Fuck, Gwen…”
