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He tore himself away, so he could crawl back up and place a finger to her lips. Just a few more minutes of teasing, of relishing in—well, her, in all of her.
“Do you need something to bite down on? A towel perhaps?”
He lavished her skin from her neck to her navel, delighting in the sounds once more. He’d never seek to silence her, no matter how much he joked. Though an empty house would’ve been more advantageous.
He kissed one hip, then the other. Urs rocked her body towards him, each time. His lips blazed a path down the edge of the bone all the way along the seam of her thigh, so close, so very close. It took all his self-control not to taste her then and there.
She parted her legs wider for him. He grinned, even through his own pulsing need.
His. She was his and he was hers. At least in the moment.
She craved him and his touch, as much as he craved hers, well almost. No one could hunger for anyone that much.
“Tempting, Urs, very tempting, but not quite time.”
Instead, he dropped further to his knees, used the lightest touch of his tongue he could, just behind each perfectly formed kneecap.
Her moans and shrieks took on a decidedly frustrated tone. He was rewarded with full blown oaths when he made tiny circles on her inner thighs and pulled back again and again.
“Language, Urs. One would think you worked on a wharf. Where would a lady such as yourself have ever heard such things?”
“Why are you so smug? So bloody smug?”
She laughed though. She liked it. She liked him, even at his most improper and unbecoming the heir to the Truitt fortune. Even tied to the bed at his complete mercy—she enjoyed herself, and him. He ran his tongue over the edge of her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth.
“Because you like it, don’t you, Urs?”
The sound she made was confirmation, but it wasn’t enough. He had to have more. The words, he had to have the words.
“I don’t think I understood that. You’ll need to be a little more clear. Tell me, Urs, you like it, don’t you?”
He moved lower again, his lips against her neck and his fingers, exactly where they should be. He stroked in and out, not too fast, but enough to make her pant.
“Yes. Bollocks, Jay. Yes, I like it. I like everything about you, even the obnoxious things that should be odious, but are somehow attractive, somehow makes my...”
He knew. Oh, he certainly knew, and he was going to lick that area until she forgot her own name in a moment, but to hear her, Ursula Nunes, say it—
“Makes your what do what, Urs?”
Withdrawing his fingers, Jay nestled between her legs again, whispering the question so his breath hovered. He wouldn’t touch until she said it, but he’d make her shiver.
“Makes—you really want me to say it?” Her voice was air.
Her muscles tightened below him. Delightful. He repeated the action.
“Very much, yes.”
Urs’ body bucked and she parted her legs wider. The power she gave him, the trust—intoxicating.
“It’s improper and unseemly and...” The words were more of a whimper.
He grinned. Since when did she concern herself with propriety? At least within her family’s walls?
“I know.” This time he couldn’t resist one more tiny nip to her thigh. Another frustrated, desperate little noise.
“I’m waiting, Urs.” Jay gripped her leg, lowering himself just a fraction closer.
She moaned. “Makes me all, well, wet and dripping, all because of you. Every time, not only when you touch me, but when I just look at you and you say something idiotic and—”
