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The sound that ripped from Isabel’s throat was animal. It was a sound of pure pleasure.
Isabel leaned back against the pillar, her hands grabbing at the edges of its base. Her knee gave out, and she was afraid she’d crumble on the ground, but Rhys held her tight and fast in his arms. He licked again, and then his tongue traveled higher to the sensitive bud above her center, and Isabel was lost.
She couldn’t control the bucking of her hips or the sounds coming out of her mouth. Stars burst behind her eyelids, and she was flying somewhere in the sky, looking down upon the picture of Rhys eating at her center.
Isabel came down to earth only to have the feeling of complete bliss build inside her again… and again as Rhys refused to stop his ministrations.
When she finally fell limp in his arms, he emerged from under her skirts and licked his lips. His mouth and his chin were still covered by her juices.
Rhys took Isabel into his arms and settled her on his lap as he sat on the stone floor. He cradled her close to his heart as her breathing returned to normal.
“How was that?” he finally asked.
Isabel let out a satisfied sigh. “You are an exemplary student, my lord.”
Rhys chuckled and kissed her mouth, the taste of her release still lingering on his lips. He nuzzled her neck, his hand roaming her body. As Isabel relaxed, she noticed the hard, hot bulge poking at her bottom. Right, she might have achieved the height of pleasure, but Rhys hadn’t had his release yet. She was looking forward to rectifying that mistake.
“Anything you wish me to do for you, my lord?” she asked and fluttered her lashes.
Rhys let out a hoarse chuckle. “No, my lady. But I have a few things I would love to do to you.”
“Oh?”
Rhys raised his brow in a flirtatious manner. “I promise you, my lady, I have studied a very long time.”
Isabel giggled, and he caught her mouth in another lingering kiss. He kissed her deeper and threw her dressing gown off her shoulders.
“I want to see you,” he rasped.
And if her mind was in order, she might have protested, but Isabel didn’t care about anything at the moment except for Rhys’s kisses, his hands on her, his tongue against her bare skin, so she took off her nightgown in one smooth motion.
Rhys stared at her breasts for one long moment. Her peaks hardened either from his intent gaze or the cool air or perhaps both. He then lowered his mouth and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He ministered to her breasts while his hand went to her center, and he worked on her little sensitive bud until he brought her to completion again.
He tugged her to her feet, and she tried to stand tall, although she swayed and her legs refused to hold her.
“Turn around,” he whispered, then propped her hands against the beam of the gazebo. “Hold on, darling. Now it’s my turn.”
Isabel moaned from anticipation. Her juices flowed down her leg, and she was beyond ready to take him in. Then she felt it, his heat, his steel-hard shaft poking at her buttocks. He slowly guided himself to her center, and Isabel gasped at the contact.
Rhys plunged inside her in one hard thrust, pressing Isabel against the beam. His hands snaked around her, and he squeezed her breasts. Her peaks rubbed against his palms as he withdrew and drove himself inside again.
He continued the unrelenting rhythm, his grunts and her moans punctuating each thrust. The sound of their flesh meeting echoed through the gardens. Rhys bit on her shoulder and growled.
“Rhys…” Isabel moaned his name, unable to keep silent. She was close, so-so close again. Rhys lowered one of his hands and pressed his finger lightly against her swollen bud.
Fireworks lit up behind her eyelids again, and she let out a guttural moan.
Rhys growled against her skin, and then his seed filled her womb.
They stood there, still joined, their breathing accelerated, their bodies cooling with the light breeze.
“Well,” Isabel said, wiping sweat off her forehead. “This was a bit longer than two minutes.”
* * *
Isabel lay in Rhys’s arms, watching the stars. Rhys had cleaned them up with her night rail, bundled her into her dressing gown, and now they lay on the grass, staring at the sky.
“Did you dream a year ago that—” Isabel started.
“No,” Rhys interrupted her.
“But I didn’t even finish my question.”
Rhys smiled against her shoulder. “Whatever you were going to ask, no. I had given up on dreaming about anything involving myself before I ran into you during that ball. The best ball of my life, by the way.”
Isabel chuckled. She turned and looked at him, the dearest man on earth, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I love you,” she said, pouring every feeling she had inside her into the words.
He just smiled and kissed her hair. “Thank God.”
