Page 67

“Please,” she breathed, her hips bucking, her restrained wrist fighting against his tight grip, while her other hand plunged into his dark locks, guiding his mouth exactly where she wanted him.

He chuckled, cool air hitting her wet nipple, sending shivers down her spine.

More. She wanted more of these sensations.

His hands, his lips. She wanted him all over her, beneath her, inside her.

A feral cry left her lips as his finger plunged inside her center. He played with her there as he licked and sucked on her breasts one at a time. Leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Art, please,” she begged again.

“Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise you will stay with me.”

She couldn’t promise that, not even as need coursed through her veins.

His smile grew more cunning then, almost feral.

Art lowered his head and dipped his tongue into her belly button. Lydia squirmed beneath him.

“Patience, my love,” he murmured as he kissed his way down to her core. Pressing his lips around her most sensitive spot, he sucked her in. Lydia’s hips shot up as she cried out. Art’s fingers dug into her thigh to keep her in place while the fingers of his other hand delved deep inside her.

He proceeded to lick and suck and kiss her between her legs, while his fingers plunged in and out of her depths.

Sweat trickling down her forehead, she writhed beneath him, moans leaving her lips with every breath.

Just as she was close to reaching the peak of pleasure, he stopped, and she cried out as if in pain.

He looked up, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Are you ready to promise to stay with me yet?”

“Art, please!” She could only beg.

Instead of giving her the pleasure she craved, he slowed his pace, going back to kiss her breasts again, his fingers gently, almost reverently massaging her center.

He did it again and again, to the point that tears appeared at the corners of her eyes—partly from pleasure, partly from frustration, but mostly from need.

Lydia wasn’t a patient person. Having had enough of the torture, she pushed him onto his back, and as he lay sprawled on the floor, she climbed on top of him. She undid the falls of his breeches and took him in hand.

They both let out a moan of relief at the sensation.

“Lydia,” he whispered.

Her new name on his lips brought up strange feelings from inside her. She nudged them away.

She hovered over his cock as she held him in her hand and rubbed him against her wet, hot center.

Art took her by her hips, holding her steady. “Take it,” he whispered. “Take whatever you want from me. Use me for your pleasure.”

Lydia let out a moan and slowly sat down, impaling herself on his hard, steel-like length. Her muscles contracted, taking him in, working to envelop all of him. She moved her hips, and he groaned as sweat lined his forehead. His fingers dug into her hips, but he didn’t rush her, didn’t force her onto him.

Instead, Art let her set the pace, his dark eyes locked with hers as she moved above him.

Lydia felt a fire building within her, every movement sending tingles of pleasure through her body. She leaned forward, pressing her hands against his chest as she rode him hard and fast.

Art’s breathing became more labored beneath her touch as he reached up to cup her breasts with his hands. He circled her nipples, then pressed against them, eliciting an animalistic growl from Lydia.

Together they moved in perfect rhythm, as if dancing to the same music.

Lydia could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge of climax as Art’s fingers expertly teased and squeezed at her nipples.