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This felt positively decadent. “What are you going to do?”
“Lick you.”
“You said kiss?”
“Kiss then. Lift your nightdress.”
He was forcing her to be an active participant in her own downfall and that was even more arousing than having him ravage her without her having to say yes. She wanted this, it was hers.
She grasped the hem and dragged it up her thighs, slowing when she saw his expression sharpen with interest.
Her hands shook when the fabric reached mid-thigh. Was she really going to do this?
“Yes.” She pulled up the remaining inches and exposed herself to him. Her knees were still primly together, and he slipped a hand between her thighs, giving the slightest push.
“Spread your legs for me, my love.”
A frisson went through her. This was dirty, and wrong. Good girls kept their legs together.
She wasn’t a good girl. She didn’t want to be good. She wanted Emmett. So she surrendered to his gentle urging and allowed her knees to fall wide.
“So pretty,” he growled as he trailed his fingertips up her leg. “I’ve been dreaming of this.” His gaze flicked between her face and her quim.
“Have you?” The question burst out of her just as he leaned in to kiss her naked thigh. The feel of his rough stubble and the softness of his lips made the last word a squeak.
“All the time. When we were out riding and I adjusted your stirrup for you.” He kissed between words, languorous stroking her, as though he were trying to discover and learn her body. “I would hold your ankle for half a second longer than appropriate, and pray that one day I’d have the right to touch you wherever and whenever I wished. When we walked together this summer, when the sunlight pierced your light muslin gowns, I’d see the outline of your figure. I’d see your little waist, the flare of your hips, and the strength of your legs. And I wanted more. I wanted…” His kisses crept closer to that cleft between her legs. “To worship you like this.”
Then his mouth touched her sex, a soft kiss at first. A slight movement that was pleasant, an unfurling.
“Further,” he urged her, nudging her inner thigh to indicate what he meant. She opened, stretched. And this time when his lips touched her, she gasped. A shooting star of sensation, then another as his tongue touched the core of her.
She closed her eyes as she surrendered to the feel of his touch.
He teased her, playing around the spot that felt best. It made her restless and needy and when she eventually shifted infinitesimally to keep his tongue on the place, he gave a low chuckle. “As you wish.”
Then another touch flew her eyes open and her gaze to him again. One of his hands caressed her thigh in slow, lazy circles. The other… Oh… His fingertip was at her entrance, and she could feel how slick she was. A light pressure and then his finger was in her, and oh that was so strange and good, she could barely stand it.
His hand was still for a second, tongue still stroking over her nub, but he seemed to be allowing her to become accustomed to the feel of his delightful intrusion before he began to move. A slight movement at first, just the merest in and out.
She couldn’t help it this time either. Her hips moved of their own accord, and his finger went deeper. It was extraordinary. Intimate, gentle, demanding. The sight of his dark head between her legs only enhanced her arousal.
He adjusted his touch and she bucked, nearly displacing him. But he just chuckled and redoubled his efforts. Faster, deeper. His finger slid out of her, and a cry of frustration escaped her before the press was more intense when it returned. Two fingers? And, oh God, that felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She could feel something escalating, but it was out of reach.
“Chase it,” he whispered against her skin, resuming the hard licks and swirls of his tongue immediately, not stopping.
“My friends said to relax,” she protested.
“Everyone is different. Try pulling it to you. Guide me. Use me.” He found her hand with his and brought it to rest on the back of his head, before resuming his touch on her thigh.
Had she thought the sight of him was erotic before? It was even more deliciously naughty with her fingers plunged into his hair.
The slightest pressure of her hand and he responded, licking harder, thrusting his fingers quicker. And this time, she didn’t try to relax. She allowed the thread to tighten, tried, as he’d suggested, to pull it to her. Her breathing came in pants and she was shaking, then a tiny shift of her hips and the thread broke. It snapped and recoiled, bouncing, sending waves of sensation through her and her eyes closed in shock and bliss and overwhelming pleasure.
She had no idea what happened in those moments, or minutes, or however many eons might have passed. When she opened her eyes again Emmett was laid beside her, hand stroking her face.
CHAPTER11
He was watchingher with an odd, tender expression. “How was that?”
