In a pained voice, she finally said, “Very well.”
He bent down to her once more, licking gently, lulling her, before shocking her with the thrust of his tongue inside her. She arched off of the bed, moaning.
“Shall I stop?”
Her eyes still closed, Anna impatiently waved him on with the flick of her small hand.
He grinned smugly, then kissed her once more, sampling her, glancing up, loving her growing response.
It wasn’t long before her taste was making him crazed and he was slowly grinding his hips against the bed. He spread her legs wide before him, forcing her to open to everything he wanted to do, and took her thoroughly, unable to get enough. Her head was thrashing, and she was lost now, needing to come.
He knew how much she wanted to, and it made him bear down on her madly, with little more thought than that of an animal. He removed his hands from her thighs and vaguely realized he was reaching for her breasts. With a groan, he put his arms to each side of her and clenched the sheets, head down, taking her with abandon.
She tried to pry them loose.
He broke away. “No. I’m no’…myself. I’ll hurt you.”
“Take. Please.” She said the last as a moan, and placed his hands over her breasts.
Palming them, he groaned against her, tongue back to her soft, slick flesh, and she began to come under his lips, arching her back, pressing her breasts into his hands and grasping his head. Her cries had him bucking against the bed with need of her.
He moved to take her waist, to hold her steady, and watched, awed, as she skimmed her hands up her torso and brushed twice over her tight nipples before her arms fell over her head. She was completely lost to what he was doing to her, and nothing had ever affected him so. He kissed her with all the hunger he felt, wringing her, making her come longer, to a torturing degree, until her quivering finally eased and she went limp.
Reluctant to remove his lips from her skin, he lavished attention to her thighs and hips, then lay beside her so her breasts were just before him.
“Wait, MacCarrick,” she said in sultry voice. “What about you? Did you?…”
“I’m fine,” he grated before circling her nipple with his tongue. He would be. Because he was going to wait until she slept and then take care of himself. He would never ask her to finish him now, not after the thwarted time in the coach and then after his taking her this way tonight. He had no idea what would happen when he finally got to spend, having never ached for it so furiously—
“MacCarrick, I feel grateful to you, very grateful because of these things you’ve shown me—”
“You feel grateful tae me for this?” He’d take much more away—he’d replay this over and over in his mind for the rest of his life, starting as soon as she slept.
“Yes, and I will feel uncomfortable unless I can reciprocate.” She placed herself under his arm, and rested her face against his chest. His body thrumming, he laid back and held her close, vowing he wouldn’t ask her to make him come, even while feeling her breaths on him and shuddering….
She began walking her fingers down his chest.
His nerves were screaming, his mind begging…
“Ah, God, yes!” His back arched, his whole body rigid, when she handled him.
She stroked him as they’d done in the coach, her grip hard, as he liked it. He couldn’t make her stop—he was too far gone. Apologies in advance.
She moved so slowly. Tormenting him up and down. Hard, tight, but slow. Torture. Didn’t matter. He’d still come. He’d be insane, but…
His voice low and wretched, he rasped, “Whatever you do—whatever I do—doona take your hand from me….”
“I won’t. But I thought,” she began in a whisper before flicking her tongue against his chest, “I should lick and kiss you now?”
The thought of her licking his—
He erupted in her grasp, yelling out, heels digging into the bed and back arching, pumping his seed onto his torso. He reached around to seize her breast—clutching it, pawing it—and bent down to take her lips and tongue in a raw kiss. He ground against her hand, relentless, groaning between thrusts of his tongue, then tensing until there was nothing left of him.
It seemed hours before the world righted itself, and he finally stopped shuddering and released her breast and lips. “Did I hurt you? Did I hurt your arm?”
“No, not at all,” she answered, her voice unsteady.
He put his fingers under her chin to bring her face up again, needing to know how she reacted to his total loss of control—and to her first sight of a man spending. Would she be disgusted? Upset?
No, her eyes were excited, her breathing rapid, as if she’d just witnessed a miracle. His brows drew together. He wasn’t a modest man, but he didn’t know how to feel about her expression of utter delight for him spilling in front of her. Should’ve been a means to an end, something that occurred as it would’ve in the coach, but she looked as though it was a trick she’d want him to perform every night for her. Worse, she looked at him… differently.