Page 120 of A Portrait of Love

Another wicked chuckle rumbled through his chest as he continued kissing and licking until he reached a nipple. He sucked her hard, taking in as much of her small breast as possible. The sounds he made were crude and animalistic, his finger teasing and teasing and teasing.

Honey made a noise of frustration, shoving her sex against his hand.

He moved so quickly that she found herself bouncing on her mattress before she even realized that he’d picked her up.

He grinned down at her, breathing raggedly. He tugged at the sash and then carelessly shrugged out of his robe, his fist closing around his thrusting organ.

Honey couldn’t help staring. She’d seen him naked and erect dozens of times, but his appeal never diminished.

He clenched his big hand tightly enough to make the veins on the back of his hand stand out, the ropey muscles in his forearm flexing beneath his sun-browned skin.

“I was hard all the way through dinner,” he said, his conversational tone at odds with his shockingly erotic actions and words. “Peel was most displeased when he undressed me for bed as there was a big wet spot on my pantaloons. I told him it was your fault.”

She gasped. “You didn’t!”

He grinned. “Did.”

His eyes dropped to where he was pumping into his fist and Honey’s eyes could only follow. “See how slick you make me?”

Honey made a mortifying gulping sound as she took in the most erotic sight she’d ever seen. Even his big hand could not dwarf his thick, ruddy shaft. The crown was a darker shade of red, the tiny slit glinting with moisture.

“Taste it.”

Honey blinked, as if that would improve her hearing. When she looked up, he reached for the bed, snatched up a pillow, and tossed it onto the floor between his spread feet. “Kneel and taste me.”

Her jaw dropped and whatever he saw on her face made him release himself.

He took a step toward her, his expression shifting in an instant from cruelly sensual to lovingly concerned. “I’m sorry, love.” He grimaced. “I’ve shocked you. You needn’t—”

“I want to.” It was the truth, she did—more than she could recall wanting anything in her life.

In fact, she wanted to please him so badly she frightened herself. “I’m not angry—or frightened. I was just, er, surprised.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, as if to himself. He leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the lips. “I’m a bad man for asking these things of you, Honey—it’s not the sort of thing a gentleman requests from his wife.”

“I want to,” she repeated. She shoved from her mind the images of all the women that he’d asked such things of in the past, unable to bear the thought of him sharing intimacies with anyone but her.

She placed her hand flat on his chest and gave him a shove.

He staggered back a step, grinning. “That’s my brave girl,” he praised. And then his lips curled into a savage smile and his nostrils flared. “Strip for me, first.”

***

Simon’s cock throbbed when she instantly complied, the pulse beneath the brutal love bite he’d given her racing.

He was a bastard. He was treating a young—near-virginal—woman like an experienced harlot. But he felt the yearning in her every time he pinched or bit or used her roughly: she was aroused by such play.

So was he.

She tossed the nightgown to the floor, her trusting, aroused eyes staring up at him. Simon wrenched his gaze away from her hard nipples and perfect little breasts and pointed again to the floor. “Kneel.”

She sank to her knees, her lips slightly parted, her gray eyes dark.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, cupping the sweet curve of her jaw with his free hand, pausing his rough pumping. “Kiss it,” he ordered gruffly, squeezing his shaft until liquid beaded on the tip of his crown. “Taste me.”

She didn’t hesitate and Simon felt shallow, rapid puffs of air on his prick as she leaned closer, her lips parted to take him. The urge to seize her hair and give free reign to his savage passions was strong. Only by leashing his lust was he able to keep himself under control.

And it was all worth it when her delicate pink tongue flicked his weeping slit.