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He controlled his instinctive laugh. “So we’re going to discuss literature, are we? Is that why you came to my room?”
“We can do anything you want.”
His heart stopped, and then started again, a slow, hard pounding that he could feel through his body, his blood pumping through him, filling him. “You know, the idea of tying you up is absolutely irresistible, my love, but I think we need to wait till later for that kind of play. We still haven’t enjoyed all the basics.”
Her gorgeous forehead wrinkled in confusion and she didn’t understand what in the world he was talking about. It didn’t matter. If she wanted, he could teach her, but there was no need—just looking at her fulfilled his most erotic fantasies.
He stopped a few feet short of her. He was wearing his smalls and nothing else, and they left nothing to the imagination, including his fierce reaction to her presence. She glanced at him, her cheeks reddened, and she looked up, keeping her gaze focused on his shoulder.
“Come here, Sophie,” he said softly. He’d moved around to the other side of the bed. All she had to do was take two steps and he would lay her down amidst the sheets and coverlets and devour her.
There was only a second of hesitation. She came to him, willingly, lifting her face to his, and he bent and put his mouth on hers.
God, she tasted sweet, so sweet, as her arms went up around his neck and she moved against him, her body soft, her nipples hard. She opened her mouth for his tongue, and he tasted every part of her, coaxing her to kiss him back. The feel of her small tongue in his mouth was beyond pleasure.
But he wanted far more. He needed to take his time with her, and he would. He would make love to her, with her, he would tup her, shag her, fuck her. He would give her everything and take everything in return.
He broke the kiss, and she was out of breath, panting slightly. “You have to remember to breathe, love,” he whispered.
“I just need practice.”
Did she say that to make him happy? It didn’t matter. He caught her waist in his hands and turned her back toward the bed. “I think you need to lie down for this.”
She looked worried. “For what? Will it hurt?”
“Stage two in your realm of experience, my love. And it won’t hurt at all.” He pushed her down on the mattress, her legs hanging over the edge, and reached beneath her shift to the tapes that held her drawers together. They were loosely tied, and as he pulled them down she didn’t protest, but her body was tense, worried.
He knew just how to relax her. He parted her legs, and before she knew what he’d planned he’d put his mouth between them.
She gasped in shock. “Oh, no, you mustn’t . . . you shouldn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off as he reached the spot that was the center of women’s passion, his tongue teasing it, and she gasped, her hands no longer pushing him away, her fingers on his shoulders, clinging to him. Slowly she loosened her tight grip, slipping her fingers up to run them through his hair, a shy caress, holding him to her, accepting him.
If her mouth was sweet then this was ambrosia. He loved the taste of women, the smell of them, the way they reacted. This was different—somehow it seemed as if all his experience had been leading to her. He’d learned how to pleasure women just so he could pleasure her, take her, give her everything she ever wanted and more.
His fingers parted her, another indignity that made her jerk against his mouth, and he slid a finger inside her tight sheath, so wet, so ready. He used his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, sucking at her, licking her, biting her with sharp little nibbles that made her gasp in delight. Her hands were no longer gentle on his scalp; she was pulling at his hair, making the most delicious sounds of need, like please and more and yes. He wanted more; he wanted to spend hours with his mouth on her, but when he slid two fingers inside her she climaxed, arching off the bed with a scream. She tried to cover her mouth, to still the sound, but he managed to catch her hands.
“Let it come,” he whispered. “Scream as loud as you can.” He slid his fingers through her wetness, up to the top, rubbing her, and watched her as everything left her and she did scream, a hoarse, sobbing sound of such wild pleasure that he could have come from watching her.
He pushed her up on the bed, following her and wrapping her in his arms as she shuddered and trembled, errant stray convulsions stil
l rippling through her. She hid her face against him now, suddenly shy, and he smiled when she couldn’t see it. Mine, he thought. He’d claimed her, and he would never let her go. Mine.
Sophie lay wrapped in his arms, her face tucked against his chest, her entire body shaken. It was too much; it was not enough, and she was too embarrassed to let him see her face. She’d lost control completely; she’d screamed. It didn’t matter that he’d told her to. She’d lost every bit of restraint she’d ever had, exploding with a frightening kind of ecstasy, and now she just wanted to hide her face against him.
He wasn’t going to let her. He’d wrapped his body around her, and she could feel his erection jutting against her, hard as iron. Why had he done such a strange and indecent thing to her? Why had it felt so overwhelmingly wonderful?
She was beginning to catch her breath, though her heart was still beating like mad, and she finally felt brave enough to turn her head and look up at him. He was leaning back against the pillows, stroking her hair, and there was a smile on his face. The one she loved, the one without mockery.
“Why did you do that?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized it, and she could have died of shame. It was bad enough that he’d done it, and she’d responded the way she had; talking about it made it even worse.
His smile widened, and she felt something clutch at her heart. “Because I knew you would like it. And because I like it.”
“You do?”
He kissed her forehead. “Oh, yes. It’s one of my favorite things to do. You’ll have to get used to it.”
The thought of him doing it again, and often, made her shiver. “It gives you pleasure?”
He kissed her mouth, and she could taste herself on it. It was strange, erotic, and she wanted to hide in the darkness again. “It gives me great pleasure,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest.
