Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke(94)

God. His hips bucked forward.

She had moved her head, opened her mouth, and was taking him inside as deep as she could. Sin watched his cock vanish, his fingers caressing her hair. Silk-soft hair as brilliant as flame. He’d always known that hair meant she was fiery. As much as she denied it.

She sucked him deep and hard. Pure erotic pleasure streaked through him. She bobbed on him and he moaned. Moaned the way a young man did the first time he felt sexual pleasure and didn’t have any sense of control.

He’d had this done to him a few thousand times. Ten years of orgies meant a lot of cock-suckings. But never one like this. Never once had he felt his heart getting tugged with each pull on his prick.

Her hands found his balls and she cupped them. His most vulnerable place. He’d known what it was like to feel pain there, to experience sexual torture. He’d experienced that with Estella. He refused to let any woman touch him there. But he knew Portia was exploring. Her touch was so delicate, he could barely feel it. And that made it all the more intense.

He let her caress his balls.

Like a cushion, her lips pressed to the head of his cock as her fingers toyed with his balls, lightly squeezing them. The hairs tugged and that was damned erotic too. Her fingers traced the seam of them, then went lower, stroking the bridge between balls and anus.

Sin was holding his breath. He felt his muscles tighten, ready to shoot his come. Deep breaths. He needed them or he would lose it and come in her mouth. He’d never been so close to shooting his seed during oral sex in a long, long time.

Watching her was the most erotic thing. His chest rose with ragged breaths. She took him deep—deeper than any courtesan had ever done. Did that because she was genuinely exploring, genuinely trying to delight him. Then she sputtered and jerked back hurriedly.

He stopped her by gently holding her head. The poor sweet needed to breathe.

He drew back, pulling his cock right out of her mouth. “That was remarkable.”

“I didn’t mean to choke—I won’t do that again.”

“You took me so deep, love, I’m not surprised. But if you keep doing that, you’re going to make me come. That would end our fun for a while—because it would take me awhile to recover from an orgasm that intense. I want to make love to you. Do you want that?”

* * *

Portia didn’t try to take his cock back into her mouth. Her jaws ached a little from stretching around him. She could taste his earthiness on her lips and tongue.

He tasted . . .

A little sweet, a bit salty, a lot warm, and just a touch sour. He tasted . . . naughty.

She sat back on her haunches and looked at him. Sinclair’s breath came fast and his chest rose and fell under his white shirt. Sweat gleamed on his brow. His eyes were bright, a deep glowing brown, and hazy with desire. His cock had bucked up when it left her lips and it stuck up and out from his body, rigid as a staff. The veins were prominent. It looked aggressive and thick and hard and beautiful, and she’d never seen it quite so huge.

Heat seemed to be washing over her too. When he’d said “an orgasm that intense” she had both blazed and ached inside. Had she made him feel so good?

She’d found it rather thrilling to do it. She never dreamed he’d want to go even further. And she knew exactly what she wanted.

“I want you inside me,” she said bluntly. “I actually hurt inside, from wanting you.”

Suddenly, he lifted her. Up in his arms and he carried her to the bed—one white sheet on a huge mattress.

Kisses pinned her there—his body over hers, his mouth kissing her lips, her throat, a spot behind her ear that made her squeal.

Then he moved, lifting up and off her. She wriggled in frustration and pain until—

In one fast motion, he pulled off his shirt, yanking it over his head. His body made her want to weep. Such a pronounced vee shape to his torso. Such muscles that bulged as he pulled his shirt free of his arms.

Portia gulped.

She loved watching his muscles move. She marvelled at the curve of his pectorals—so firm. His biceps bulged, too big for her two hands to grasp. His nipples were so tight and hard, like hers, but smaller. His cock bobbed as he moved, and it moved like it was heavy, made of wood, and she was sure it must hurt to have that huge thing swinging in front of him.

His trousers were already dropped down, caught at the swell at his thigh muscles. His shape was so different than hers—narrow hips with defined hip bones, and a flat expanse of abdomen, shaped by the rock-hard muscles underneath.

He pushed off his boots and slid his trousers down, baring his legs. Even seeing his naked feet was incredibly erotic. And so intimate. Maybe because this was the first time she’d seen his feet. Long and well-shaped, and thoroughly male, with elegant toes.