The Irresistible Miss Peppiwell(41)

She whimpered, unsure how he knew. Even though so gentle, he went deep, and her core ached for him. His hip surged, and he picked up a rhythm that had her body weeping with delight. Sweat slicked their skin, and she gasped as he shifted his legs between hers, widening her a little farther, sinking deeper still.

She groaned, trembled, and pressed into his heat that curved behind her so deliciously. Hours seemed to pass as he rode her in the darkened bedchamber. He never increased his tempo and the heat spiraled slower, but was vicious in its intensity. Her release swept over her, scorching in its immensity.

He gently pulled out from her, her flesh almost unwilling to let him go. He was still hard and he shifted, adjusting himself.

“Are you not going to…?”

“No, I am contented.” He lifted her hair from her shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“Phillipa, I know you are sore after our excessive night.”

She still wanted to please him, but she knew he was correct. He’d already loved her four times, and her thighs and inside her ached, and her flesh felt incredibly tender.

“Is there no other way to please you?” she asked.

“I am pleased. Sleep,” he ordered.

She thought about it, her brows furrowing in concentration. “When you place your mouth between my legs, I felt waves of pleasure. Would it be the same for you if I took you in my mouth?”

“Hell!” His muscles went rigid around her.

The idea unfurled within her and a smile bloomed. He said nothing save his curse, but he went harder behind her.

She turned and shrugged off the sheets. His eyes hooded, and she grinned. He did not stop her removing the coverlet. Fascination held her as she thought about him feeling as aroused as she did when he kissed her there. For the long night he’d been the one in control. He had kissed, licked, and pleasured her in ways that left her limp but always wanting more. And he’d always given her what she needed.

Now it was her turn.

Phillipa skimmed her hands over his firm abdomen, loving his body. His stomach and chest were rigidly sculpted. His body was beautiful. She kissed his stomach, reveling in his strength and heat. Anthony’s erection stood heavy and hard. She had thought to kiss his lips, neck, and body as he did hers, but instead she went straight for his length. She shimmied down, her hands resting against his muscular thighs. They bunched, and she felt pleased that he anticipated her touch.

Oh, yes. This would be as pleasurable for her as it was for him.

Phillipa licked him, a slow, sensuous glide that had Anthony’s stomach rippling. A groan slipped from him as he savored the wet heat of her mouth on his cock. Her hands fluttered to his chest, and she reared up as she touched and learned him. He inhaled deeply, to restrain his need, so he would give her all the time she needed to indulge her pleasures. And his.

She started tentative, curious. He watched, enthralled by the heated sensuality that darkened her eyes. Her tongue stroked over the broad head of his erection, and she suckled him slowly. She released it from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, and he groaned.

Her lips trailed down the rigid length. His balls ached, and he almost shouted as her wet tongue caressed them. She noted his reaction and her feminine smile of lasciviousness enraptured him. She was bloody perfect. With his reaction guiding her, she licked his balls in broad, wet sweeps. Lust shivered into him and tingled up to the tip of his cock, flexing it. Her hair cascaded over her face, obscuring his view, and he gripped it, wrapping it around his hand.

Hell. He was drowning in the wet heat of her mouth. She scorched him with her carnality and beguiled him with the innocent greed she took him with.

With innate instinct, she released him from her mouth and crawled on top of him. Her body swayed with lush eroticism, and she straddled him with her hips. She straightened, and her hair rippled from his hand in fiery tresses.

She stole his breath.

Her nether curls glistened, and wetness seeped along her inner thighs. She gripped him in her hand, and he saw no reserve as she held his gaze and slowly sank onto him.

She glowed warm and vibrant. And he knew she would match him as a lover in all ways. He knew she must be sore, but she was enjoying her sensuality too much, in the wicked lust that arced between them, to stop. No one had ever taken him with such raw, unmatched passion. And that was what she did—she took him, as surely as he had taken her last night. He was mesmerized. And he gave full control over to her.

She bit her lips and bore down inexorably on him. Sliding up and down until she sat boldly astride him, fully seated to the hilt. And then she rode him.

She rode with guilelessness, with sheer wantonness, and with a freedom that utterly captivated him, and he tumbled with her when she fell.