The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell(40)

She rocked against him, wrapped in steaming sensuality, breathless cries echoing from her lips. His teeth closed over her, and she moaned in complete abandon. He nipped her once, twice, three times, then sucked. Her back arched off the bed. Sweat slicked her skin, and desire roared through her. The muscles in her legs strained, she trembled.

Aroused curiosity licked at her consciousness as his fingers trailed her wetness in the crack of her buttocks, rousing nerve endings to life, teasing an entrance she never knew could be touched sexually. She met his wicked gaze and his slow smile had her shaking in need.

He brought his hands down sharply on her center, ripping a wail of tormented pleasure from her. Her mind hazed in shock at the savage feeling of lust that tore through her at the stinging slap that vibrated through her core. She jerked at the delicious friction, at the landing of a second slap.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he growled, hot lust firing in his eyes. “Things society does not approve of.”

Dark, dangerous need rose in her, and shivers of unending sensation racked her. She hadn’t known lust could be so powerful, so all-consuming, and she dripped with want. “You know how I feel about their rules.”

“I do, thank God.”

He parted her thighs, mounting her again, and plunged inside her in one quick, hard movement. Her lips opened but no sound escaped. Her breath strangled and her flesh burned as she adjusted to the thick invasion of his body into hers.

“Anthony,” she moaned.

He leaned in, sinking deeper, drawing a guttural moan from her. His fingers curled around her wrists, drawing them up around his neck.

“Hold on,” he commanded, her only warning as his hips recoiled and slammed home.

She cried out at the overwhelming sensation. He held her gaze, refusing to release her, and began to ride her in a deep, hard, beautiful rhythm. It was ecstasy, the most nerve-racking pleasure she had ever felt. She writhed beneath him, hips arching, craving to get closer.

She clasped his shoulders; her head thrashed. Her teeth sank deep into his biceps as exquisite sensations sliced through her body. He changed the angle of his thrust so he drove against her knot of pleasure. Her muscles clenched in desperation, and the need for something more fired in her.

“Anthony, more!” she cried. The pleasure was immense, consuming her control. She was tethered on a precipice of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He slammed harder, deeper.

And then she screamed, splintered, and fell.

A relentless need burned Anthony’s eyes upon seeing her walls completely shattered. She couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that burst raggedly from her lips. He groaned with each whimper, with each of her nips and bites, when she clenched and bathed his length in her pleasure. He arched her hips higher, and drove into her with even more hunger.

She exploded again, screaming and bucking into his thrusts, and he did not stop.

“Again,” he snarled.

He opened her wider to his thrusts, and she wrapped her legs higher around the middle of his back. Again ravenous desire filled her, and she sank into it. He drowned her in pleasure. He took her lips roughly; his hips thrust harder with every stroke. He swallowed her renewed cries, her second surrender, and held her tight as she trembled and spasmed. Then his orgasm hit, surrounding her, enveloping her, more powerful than anything she had ever felt, and a savage roar tore from him as their releases merged.





Chapter Twelve


Phillipa awoke slowly, her senses alive. Her skin tingled, and an erection prodded her from behind. The embers from the fire in the hearth barely sparked in the dimly lit bedroom. She started to turn and face Anthony but his hand stilled her. She remained on her side curved into his heat. He eased one of his legs between hers, and a finger probed at her core.

She winced. She felt sore. She bit her lower lip as he started to push into her. His hand snaked across her waist and delved through her curls. His thumb gently circled, and languorous pleasure swept through her body, making her flesh more pliant.

He forged in deep and sure, hips rolling to the rhythm of the rain that pattered against the windows. She should be cold with the fire dying in the room, but she burned. The pleasure was softer, sweeter than it had been over the past few hours in his arms. One hand caressed her breast, with fingers teasing her nipple, while the other remained rubbing her pleasure spot. With a final push, he sheathed himself to the hilt inside her.

“Mmm…” she murmured.

“Feel how hot and incredibly slick you are,” he muttered at her ear, his voice husky with arousal. “I love your sensuality, your passion, how wet you get for me.” He pressed a kiss against the base of her neck, soothing and arousing at the same time.