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“More,” she bit out. “Please.”

“There she is.” He grinned against her pussy, thinking he could happily remain right here forever, admiring her, pleasuring her. “Tell me what to do.”

“I need you inside me,” she begged.

His cock pulsed.

But he was determined to deny himself for as long as he could. He had waited years to have Ophelia in his bed. He was going to damned well make certain he luxuriated in every second of it.

He blew a stream of air over her pearl. “What else do you need?”

Her hips moved impatiently. “Your mouth on me. Please.”

“Yes, my lady.” He buried his face between her legs as she had asked, latching on to her pearl and suckling as he had her nipples.

This time, he simultaneously filled her cunny with his fingers, plunging rhythmically in and out of her heat as he licked and sucked. She gasped and thrust mindlessly into his face, getting wetter still until her cream coated his tongue and dripped down his chin. He was surrounded by her scent, her silken skin, her heat. He tilted his head back as he ate her so that he could see her expression. Her head was tipped back, her mouth open, her chest rising and falling, breasts jiggling with each frantic pump of her hips. Her pussy fluttered around his fingers, and he knew she was almost there.

A few more thrusts, another long, lusty suck, and she flew apart. He was near to bursting himself as he hastily withdrew and rose to his knees. He fisted his length and parted her thighs, notching the head of his cock against her dripping opening. The first kiss of her dew on his leaking cock sent sparks up his spine.

“Touch your breasts,” he ordered her. “Play with those pretty nipples for me.”

She did as he asked, cupping the full mounds, catching the peaks between her thumbs and forefingers. He ran the head of his cock through her sleek folds, gathering her wetness, tantalizing them both before he paused at her entrance.

“What do you want?” he rasped.

“Fill me,” she said, pinching her nipples until they were puffy and dark red, back bowing from the counterpane. “Take me. Do it now. I want to feel you inside me.”

It was as if a lightning bolt struck him.

He thrust mindlessly into her, and she surrounded him, welcoming him. She was slick and dripping, her pussy wrapped around him as if she had been made for him. It was so good that all he could do was sink deep inside her and stay there for a few heartbeats, completely overwhelmed. She felt so good, too good. And he didn’t want to come inside her instantly and keep them from enjoying each other for as long as possible.

But then she wrapped her legs around him and she rolled her hips, spurring him on, and he was lost. He surrendered to her, to sensation, to the almost violent need to make this woman his. He lowered himself to his forearms and took her lips, kissing her as he pumped in and out of her body. She held him in her arms as he rode her, fucking them both into oblivion. His thrusts were harsh and hard, the result of wanting her for too long from afar, and her hips frantically met him each time, taking him as deeply as she could.

How perfect she was for him in every way.

He was going to have to convince her of this.

Because he couldn’t walk away from this bed without the promise of more.

Her body was soft beneath his, supple and pliant, her breasts pillowy and full against his chest. He moved faster, his thrusts growing frenzied. She clamped down on him and gasped into his kiss, coming as a rush of liquid bathed his cock.

And he lost control utterly, sinking deep until they were hip bone to hip bone and he was pinning her to the bed with his body. He came harder than he recalled ever coming, black stars speckling the edges of his vision, filling her as she milked every last drop from him.

CHAPTER 12

Ophelia didn’t think she would ever be able to move again. Not that she wanted to. At present, a big, powerful male body was pinning her to the bed. Prestwick’s body, to be precise. His warm, heavy weight was reassuring.

And inside her pulsing cunny was the hot wetness of his seed along with the thick fullness of his cock.

He had finished inside her.

She ought to be horrified. Frightened of a potential child. After all, she was a woman of a certain age, but she was not beyond her child-rearing years. Perhaps later, she would be shocked at her own actions. For now, she couldn’t muster a modicum of outrage. She was feeling much too good for that.

A beautiful languor had swept over her. She felt sated and delicious and safe with him. For a time, she did nothing but breathe in his scent and revel in the way their bodies were still connected. The differences between them—he fashioned of strength and muscle, of planes and angles, and she made of soft curves. The rapid beating of his heart. It all lulled her into a state of half slumber.

Until suddenly, the sound of her name jolted her awake.

“Ophelia.”