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This woman, however, made me feel like a fucking king. She made love with abandon, embracing the pleasure I gave her and reached for more. I knew it was purely instinctual on her part because no prostitute, no woman whose job it was to make a man feel good, ever let herself go like this.
Cecilia shuddered beneath me, her body trembling in aftershocks of pleasure. I could feel the heat washing over me, but I refused to let myself get swept away just yet.
“You all right?” I asked, my voice hoarse with need.
She nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure and shock. “I-I think so?”
I barked out a laugh. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I’m not really sure.”
“What can I do to make you sure?” I let my beard rub over her bare mound as I looked up at her. I kissed the skin just below her navel before nipping it slightly with my teeth.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. “Do that again,” she whispered.
I did. This time, I laved the skin I’d abused with my tongue before delving my tongue into her belly button. She whimpered, her skin breaking out in goose flesh, her nipples drawing impossibly tighter.
“Talk to me.” I rubbed my chin back and forth. I knew my beard was precariously close to her clit but not quite hitting it. I knew because her hips bucked spastically while she continued to whimper. Her chest and face were flushed and she still had this adorably dazed look on her face.
“Will you… do that again? Eat my pussy?”
I grinned. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I want more, baby.”
Chapter Four
Cecilia
I didn’t even want to think about how many men I’d had sex with in the past. Never, with all those men, had one of them ever gone down on me. There were a few who’d touched me, but mostly it was a fuck-me-from-behind kind of thing where they got their jollies, or else they had me suck them off. Most of the time, it was in degrading ways that made me want to vomit.
It wasn’t for me to question. I went where Ettore told me to go. He didn’t send me to a man with stipulations on what he could or could not do to me, or have me do to him. He wasn’t allowed to kill me and that was pretty much it.
This whole thing with Atticus? I didn’t know what to do with the sensations. I wouldn’t say I’d never had an orgasm before, but if I did, it was an accident and likely early on in my… service to Ettore. And never like this. Masturbation? Yeah. No. I could honestly say this was the first time I’d actually enjoyed sex.
I lay there, Atticus still lapping at my pussy, and I couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone put into words my gratitude for what he’d given me. I knew I wanted more, wanted to experience everything this man could give me.
“Please, Atticus… I-I need you…”
“You need more, baby?” He lapped at my clit again, and I shuddered. With a gasp, I tried to close my legs.
“Sensitive?”
“Y-yes!”
“Mmm…” He moved down to lick my pussy, thrusting two fingers inside me and finding a spot deep inside me that set off yet another orgasm, this one sudden and breathtaking. I literally could not catch my breath as my whole body seized.
I screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Until I was sobbing, begging him to fuck me, to put me out of my misery. To never let this stop.
The next thing I knew, Atticus was over me, his body in the cradle of mine. My legs wrapped around his hips and I could feel his cock through his jeans. Still the man would not take off his fucking pants!
I reached between us to unbutton his pants, but he stopped me, putting my hands above my head and lacing his fingers through them. Tears streaked from my eyes down my temples as I pleaded with him to fuck me. I wasn’t even really aware of what I was saying.
Atticus kissed me gently, rubbing his beard over my cheek and neck. He kissed my jaw and whispered in my ear, praising me, trying to bring me down but I didn’t want to come down.
“God, Atticus! Fucking please!”
“No, baby. I’m not gonna fuck you. I told you that’s not happening.” His body quaked and I reveled in his weight pressing me into the mattress.
“But I need it!”
