“Was it something I said?” He was twinkling at her again, obviously funning her. He’d not said a word. Amazing. The man was simply amazing.
“I can’t see your face that way, and it occurs to me that watching your face is terribly important.” She bent one knee to the chair, then the other, straddling him, moving forward until she was there, just above him.
As she began to crouch lower, he met her gaze. “You wish to look, I know, so do so. Look now, my love. That’s it, bow your head and watch.”
Oh, but it was astonishing, erotic, arousing, incredible. He was so very large, and hard and hot and hers. She heard the sound of her body accepting his, felt every bit of him as she slowly slid down, saw him disappear into her curls. Jerking her head up, she moved closer and kissed him, hard, desperately, rocking her hips, thrusting her pelvis so that he moved in and out of her without any effort on his part. As she’d suspected, the position of him sitting and her in his lap brought his cock into perfectly aligned contact with her most sensitive spot, and her rocking hips built her desire hotter and higher.
Sherbourne watched her, his lids heavy, his eyes blazing with lust, one hand at her waist and the other fondling her breasts, which moved in tandem with her gyrating hips. “You’ve simply no idea how lovely you are, Lucy. The very earth.”
She was beginning to gasp, knew she was close, wanted to slow down, to wait, to prolong their time together, and perhaps she might have, but Sherbourne deliberately sent her off.
He looked.
And spoke to her not as a gentleman, but as a man –a lusty, aroused man. It had always been a particularly favorite fantasy, that a lover would become so caught up, he would forget himself as a gentleman and she as a lady and speak as a man to a woman.
His gaze was upon hers, until it worked its way down, to her breasts, to her belly, and finally to where they were joined, to where she covered the essence of him, drawing away, pushing back, again and again and again. He murmured, “Come for me now, Luce. Let me see you take me in, all of me, down to my bollocks.” His eyes didn’t move from where they coupled. “Your cunny is so slick, hot, tight and beautiful, sliding along my cock, and it’s all you can do to hold back. Don’t wait any longer. Do it now, love, come for me and let me see.”
His language, his eyes, his gruff voice, his focus on what they did, all served to send her off, and she was powerless to stop herself. With a suddenness that took her breath, her body was awash in wave after wave of heat and pleasure. Her back bowed inward, thrusting her breasts forward. His lips closed around one nipple and she did cry out, her climax prolonged, extended, exhausting.
She was still shaking, still coming, when he whispered, “Put your arms round my neck.”
She complied and squeaked in surprise when he began to rise from the chair.
“Slide your legs about my hips.”
He was still inside of her, still incomplete, still tremendously erect. “Where are we going?”
His grin was wolfish, she’d swear. “My turn, Lucy.” He moved toward the bed, still a part of her, effortlessly carrying her while she clung to him like a burr. He laid her down, with her bottom almost off the edge of the mattress, and straightened, forcing her arms to let go of his neck. She started to move her legs, but he whispered, “No,” and she kept them wrapped about his hips. He stood there, just stood there, for the longest while, his hands kneading her breasts, massaging firm circles, then softly rubbing her nipples before rolling their peaks between his fingers. And all the time, he was still within her body, unmoving, yet pulsing with the flow of his blood, thick and heated. “So beautiful, so sensual . . . needful. So . . . mine.”
He pulled back, then thrust so hard, she moved up on the bed. He did it again. And again. And all the while, his hands were on her breasts, his gaze upon his hands. He began to speak in a low, rough voice. “There are but two things a man cannot live without. The first is faith. Faith in his God, faith in himself, faith in love. Do you know what the second is, Lucy?”
Mutely, she shook her head, uncertain where he was going with this, but absolutely positive she was about to climax, yet again. Impossible! But there it was. His attention to her breasts, his violent thrusts, the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, throbbing with need and passion, all contributed to the incredible exhilaration of climbing to a second orgasm.
He didn’t increase the rhythm, didn’t alter his thrusts in any way, but continued to pound into her, hard and steady, until she was moved very far up on the bed. He grasped her waist and pulled her back, then hauled her up, almost to a sit, and held her there, his gaze intent upon hers while he worked magic within her body. “The other is this, in all its forms, and no man alive, young or old, can live long without it.” A fine sheen of perspiration covered his face, his chest, his arms. “I’m waiting for you, Lucy, to have what I need, what I crave. Give over now and come for me again.”