He felt the gathering forces within him tighten and rise. “Nay,” he choked out, trying to sit up, blindly reaching for her.
Too late. With a last, laving brush of her tongue, she lifted her head, eyes sparkling like smoky jewels, just as he felt his body jerk with an uncontrollable shudder. He fell back, letting the spasm take him, feeling the rush of heat and savage pleasure rip through his body, flowing outward in a wave of release that swept him almost to the edge of unconsciousness, his ecstasy doubled a hundredfold by the way his shameless lady sat watching him, her glistening lips parted and her voice a soft moan.
When he finally came back to himself, spent, gasping, she was beside him, smiling at him like a satisfied cat ... like a lioness.
“You even taste like a lion,” she whispered wickedly. “All salty and hot and wild.”
His response was a low roar as he pinned her in the furs, his mouth ravishing hers, his hands hungrily grasping her fire-warmed curves while she shivered in pleasure. His fingers flicked over her breasts, tugging the tips to erect hardness. He kissed her ear, biting the tender lobe. His hand slid down her belly to the soft petals below, parting her, finding her wet and welcoming merely from having pleasured him.
“Aye, my lady lioness,” he growled. “And you are lamb as well.”
She made broken little cries as he touched her. “Isn’t it wonderful that ... I’m so very much lamb where ... you’re so very much lion?”
“We fit together perfectly.” He pressed his hips against her, already hard for her again.
“Yes, my lion.” She whimpered as he caressed her. “Yes, now, please. Please.”
He withdrew his hand, smiling at her hungrily. “Not so quickly, my demanding lady. I mean to enjoy every inch of you first.”
With a sound of disappointment, she arched her hips against his, her hands sliding down his back. He moved out of reach and sat up, kneeling on the furs.
“I want you on your knees, ma chère,” he ordered huskily.
Her heavy-lashed eyes were languid as she looked up at him, reaching for him, trying to draw him back down.
“On your knees. Now.”
She inhaled at the sudden command, eyes wide and dark. He could see the flush of excitement that went through her body at the way he took control so aggressively.
Shivering, she obeyed, rising to kneel before him.
He edged closer, leaving a scant space between them, his eyes never leaving hers.
Touching her with only one hand, he ran his fingers downward from her breast to her hip to her thigh, over her knee, back along her leg until he felt the round hardness of her heel, the sensitive sole of her foot. Her toes. She wiggled them and he subdued a smile.
“Be still,” he whispered, drawing his fingers along the return path.
When he reached her thigh, he let his hand rest there for a moment, his gaze dropping to the red curls that concealed her tender core. He looked up slowly, and drank in the storm of desire in her eyes, the glittering gray and blue. The anticipation.
He withdrew his hand, letting her wonder, for a moment, what he might do, how he might pleasure her. Letting the need coil tighter within her.
“Part your thighs, ma chère.”
With a breathy little moan, she obeyed, the color in her cheeks deepening. She separated her knees, spreading her legs just wide enough to admit his hand there, the rise and fall of her bosom quickening.
“More, my sweet lioness. Wider,” he ordered in a deep, quiet voice, not yet touching her. “Let me see all of you. Aye, like that. Aye. Now lean back. Lean back and open for me.”
She submitted to his every command, her pale body trembling; she moved her hands behind her in a way that thrust her breasts forward. Gaston felt a tremor deep inside him, felt his shaft swell with his lifeblood. She was a vision, kneeling before him, a smooth arch of ivory, head tilted back and eyes closed, thighs parted, The sight of her so vulnerable and trusting dazzled him, filled him with desire and love and sharp blades of need.
He reached for her with one hand, slowly slid his fingers into the rough silk of her soft mound, groaning even as she did. He gazed at his dark hand possessing her tender womanhood, and thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.
She gasped, a sharp little inhalation as he penetrated her dampness.
“Hold on to the furs,” he ordered in a low, deep voice. “Hold tight.”
She did as he bade, gripping the wolf pelt beneath her. He stroked into her deeply. Her tiny white teeth closed over her bottom lip, but she could not hold back a moan as he began exploring her at his leisure, sampling her depths with gentle care. He listened to her small cries, feeling each one all the way to his soul, experiencing as much bliss as he was bestowing.