The Mech Who Loved Me(87)

She'd been so close to orgasm.

Her body jerked as he kissed her clavicle, his lips brushing against the lacy scalloped edge of her nightgown. His breath stirred her nipple and she writhed, her hand clenching his again.

She didn't want to let go of him. Somehow his fingers held her together when she was so frightened she'd fall apart. 

"I want you under my tongue when you come, Ava," Kincaid ground out, and the words did something to her as his hot mouth closed over her other nipple, dampening the cotton of her nightgown.

She moaned, a desperate, begging kind of sound.

"I want to taste your sweet little cunt." A flinch of her hips at the word. Then he suckled her into his mouth, and her womb clenched with need.

"Please... oh."

"That's it, sweetheart."

Somehow her free hand tangled in his hair. Ava gasped and rocked as Kincaid made his way lower, pressing gentle kisses across her stomach, and then lower, dragging her drawers down her legs and spreading her thighs wide with one insistent push of his spare hand.

"Ava," he breathed, and just like that gooseflesh erupted all over her body.

She wanted to be taken. She wanted to be overwhelmed by him, to learn what this desperate ache within her meant and how it would feel to assuage it. She felt so empty, so hollow, and somehow he could take away that pain.

Then his mouth closed over the wet, slick ache between her legs, a devouring kiss that scraped along flesh that had never been touched before. Ava gasped, her hand clenching in his hair. Oh my God. His tongue rasped over her, drinking her down, suckling on that small bud between her thighs.

A cry escaped her.

Another.

She felt not at all herself. And maybe that was the point. Beneath his touch, Ava bloomed, like some exotic orchid he'd carelessly plucked for her. All she could see was that bloody painting, and suddenly it was her body she saw lying on those silken sheets, and Kincaid's dark head between her thighs, and it set off something within her she'd never known before. Some illicit wickedness that should have shocked her, but she couldn't quite find the breath to be so.

She couldn't escape the pleasure. It built within her like a tide, ready to come crashing down. She was exposed and raw, and somehow this moment would stay with her for the rest of her life. Kincaid nuzzled and licked, and the spring inside her wound tighter until-

Ava screamed.

She had one hand in his hair, the other locked around his hand. Every last lick of his tongue destroyed her, until she was grinding his face between her thighs, sobbing out her pleasure. On and on and on, until she broke. "No more! No more!"

It left her wracked and ruined. Writhing beneath him. Gasping, her back arching off the bed.

She had never in her entire life pictured anything like this. Finally there was relief. Kincaid's dark head lifted and he shuddered against her thigh, his mouth shockingly wet as he kissed her leg gently.

Wet from her body.

Wet from his ministrations.

And then it was over, Kincaid pressing a soft kiss to her belly as he made his way back up her body.

He laughed under his breath as he dragged her onto her side, curling behind her. "Remind me to bring a gag the next time we do this. Let's hope nobody was home, or our secret's going to be out tomorrow."

Ava buried her face in the pillow as Kincaid slid into the hollow indentation behind her, his hand dragging her back against his body, where she fit, just so.

"I cannot believe you just did that," she whispered.

Kincaid tucked his face into the bare skin at her nape, nuzzling into her unbound hair. "I can't believe I haven't done that before with you."

And Ava pressed her hand to her flushed cheeks as he tugged her nightgown down over her bottom, leaving her with some protection from the press of his body.

"Feeling better?" he demanded smugly.

Her wrist hurt, a dull throbbing ache that had been blissfully absent throughout all of that. "Yes." She felt wonderful.

Tomorrow she might be able to look at him without blushing, but tonight was simply too much.



       
         
       
        

"Next time, you can return the favor," Kincaid whispered, and Ava moaned as an image of her kissing his cock sprang to mind.





Twenty





BREAKFAST WAS AN ordeal.

"Pass the butter?" the baroness asked politely, and Ava shoved it down the table toward Isabella Rouchard, trying not to look anyone in the eye. Jack was absorbed in the newspaper, the baroness lifted the lid off the tureen to examine the coddled eggs, and there was no sign of Gemma, Charlie or Malloryn.

Probably a good thing. Not much bypassed the duke, and she was almost certain last night's escapades were written across her forehead in a big scarlet letter.