Page 108 of Under Arthur’s Protection

She let out a half-squeal, half-laugh. “Put me down! You’re injured!”

“We’re not going far.” I carried her to the bed and set her down on the mattress. The towel slipped, and neither of us fixed it.

“Did you want to share your thoughts?” She tipped her face up to mine, the towel barely covering her breasts now.

“I’d rather show you.” I lowered myself over her and nipped her bottom lip.

I pulled the tucked edge of her towel free. She was warm and damp from the shower, and when I pressed my mouth to her collarbone, she moaned. Time to learn even more about what she liked. I kissed my way down. Between her breasts, across her ribs, along the curve of her stomach. She sucked in a breath when my mouth reached her hip bone.

“Arthur…”

I kept going. Down the inside of her thigh. At her knee, I let my tongue retrace the same path.

“Oh, Arthur,” she sighed.

Down the other leg. She gave me the noise I’d been waiting for—the one that was simply Gwen. I shifted my weight, and the butterfly strips on my forearm pulled, a sharp sting I pushed past. I kissed her ankle, the inside of her calf, the soft skin behind her knee.

“That feels amazing.” Her voice dropped to a low rasp, and my cock strained against my jeans.

“I might be down here a while.”

She giggled and gasped as I kissed the crease of her thigh. Her fingers threaded into my hair, stopping me from returning to her ankle. “Please.”

I dragged my tongue through her wet folds. “You taste so fucking good.”

Her whole body tensed and her thigh pressed against the side of my head.

My ribs protested the angle, a dull ache radiating along my entire right side. I teased her with my tongue the way I’d used my fingers last night, reading her responses and adjusting until her fists balled in my hair.

“Oh, god, Arthur. That’s so—” Her breathing hitched, and her fingers clenched tighter, bracing my face against her soaking pussy.

I anchored her thigh with one hand. My other hand slid up her stomach, and she grabbed it, squeezing hard.

“That’s it. Right there. That’s—” She sucked in a tremendous breath and wailed, “Arthur! Oh god, Arthur!”

I held the rhythm, held her thigh, held her hand, until her hips rose and finally fell. Her grip on my hand and my hair released. As she softened, I kissed the inside of her thigh and rested my forehead between her breasts while she came down from the high.

My cock strained against my zipper, but it would have to be patient.

“Get up here,” she eventually whispered.

I crawled up beside her and ran a hand through her hair. “Was that clear enough?”

“Pretty clear.” She hooked a leg around my hips. “But I want you inside of me again.”

I took her hand in mine and guided it over the evidence of how much I wanted her. “I only had the one condom.”

She cupped my balls through my pants. “Lucky for us, I picked some up at the gas station before Caen.”

I pulled back to study her face.

She waggled her eyebrows as though she’d won a minor victory. “I was hoping I’d get through to you on the drive.”

Even after I’d told her about my fucked-up family and my screwed-up ideas about love, she still wanted me. Was it just the sex? Just the convenience of an overnight ferry passage?

Or did she want more?

Was there any point in arguing right now?