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He strolled forward and placed a knee on the bed. “I am.”
She frowned a little. “You sound rather… possessive.”
“Indeed.” He leaned down and licked a nipple, making her inhale sharply. “You have the most splendid breasts I have ever seen.”
“Thank you,” she said rather breathlessly. “Am I allowed to comment on portions of your anatomy as well?”
“Mmm,” he murmured against her breast, sending little shivers down her spine. “Although I don’t know what you’d find to interest you. My body isn’t beautiful like yours.”
“Of course it is,” she said in surprise.
He arched an eyebrow skeptically. “My body is big and ugly and hairy—like all men.”
“Your body is big and beautiful and, yes, hairy. And I don’t know about most men, but to me it’s quite lovely.” She ran her hand down his chest. “Lovely and hairy. I like the way your hair is so thick here”—she patted his chest—“and then thins here”—she trailed her fingers over his stomach—“and then it thickens again down here, where—”
But she wasn’t allowed to finish. Even as she grasped that most masculine part of him, he took her shoulders and pushed her back in the bed, kissing her quite masterfully. When he raised his head to inhale, she looked at him with mock reproach.
“I hadn’t finished.”
“Well, I was about to,” he muttered.
She smiled and gently squeezed the penis she still held.
His eye closed for a moment and then opened, brighter than before. “And if you want this to last more than a minute, you’ll desist doing that.”
He gently pried loose her hand and shoved a muscular thigh between her legs. She could feel the hair on his leg rubbing against her moist flesh. She swallowed and arched up, grinding her pelvis against him.
“Witch,” he whispered against her neck.
He pressed down more firmly, holding her nearly immobile as he licked across her chest to a breast. This he took into his mouth and suckled leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world to savor her.
Helen squirmed.
“Stop that,” he growled, his voice vibrating against her damp skin.
“But I want to move,” she gasped.
“But I want to taste your nipples,” he retorted, and moved to the other breast.
She looked down, seeing only dark skin and darker hair moving over her white body. A shiver of erotic anticipation shook her. “I think you are obsessed with breasts.”
“No,” he murmured, levering himself up a little so he could cradle both her breasts in his big hands. He flicked her nipples idly as he talked, and she bit her lip. “I have an obsession with your breasts. I want to lick them, suck them, perhaps”—he leaned down to scrape his teeth over the curving side of one sensitive breast—“bite them.”
“Bite?” she squeaked.
He smiled, slowly and wickedly. “Mmm. Bite.”
And he lowered his head to take her nipple very gently between his teeth. She held her breath, the threat making her clench internally. He looked into her eyes, his hair falling forward like a pirate about his face, and raked his tongue against the tip of her nipple.
Her breasts had always been extremely sensitive. Helen could feel her breath coming quicker and quicker as he tortured that nipple. But when he closed his eye and sucked it into his mouth, drawing strongly, she clenched her thighs around his big leg and held on.
For long, passionate minutes, he licked and sucked and bit at her nipples until they were swollen, red, and glistening with his saliva. She moved agitatedly beneath him, entirely aroused yet unable to fulfill quite yet.
He reared up over her and studied what he’d done to her. His high cheekbones had a flush across them, his eyelid drooped lazily, and his lips were reddened from his ministrations yet were held in an almost cruel line.
“You look like a pagan sacrifice,” he growled low. “Prepared and laid out for some god to”—he leaned close and whispered in her ear—“fuck.”
She moaned at the forbidden word. No one had ever talked to her thus, made love to her thus. She was in a frenzy of neglected need.
