Page 11 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue (Wicked Widows’ League #18)

Evan took her hand from his cheek and pressed it to his lips. Then he licked her fingertips and tasted the truth of her words. A bolt of desire rocked through him, and his blood rushed into his cock with such force that he felt a little lightheaded. He wanted one thing.

To taste her intimately.

“Did you make yourself come?” he asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“No.”

He slid his hands slowly upward until he reached the underside of her breasts, enjoying the feel of them, so full, so soft. He teased her warm flesh with his fingertips. “Did you want to?”

“Yes, Oh Mamma Mia! Yes.” Her voice was husky and sensual.

“Then why didn’t you make yourself come?” He cupped her breasts through the fuzzy flannel cloth, careful to avoid touching her nipples. There was no need to rush. He wanted to tease her until she burned as hotly with craving as he did.

“No,” she said. “I came to find you.”

How gratifying it was to know she felt the same about their coming together as he did.

He continued caressing her breasts, feathery touches with his fingertips when he longed to crush those soft, full globes in his hands.

But this was about pleasing her. There was something utterly sensual about stroking her through the flannel.

It gave a sort of naughty but forbidden aspect to the act.

He put his mouth to hers and moved his lips slowly, sensually over hers.

After a few moments, she tore her mouth away and panted for breath. “Touch them!”

“Touch what?” he asked, wanting to hear her say the words.

“Touch my nipples,” she said softly but with some frustration in her tone.

How validating that tremble of frustrated desire was. And how arousing.

He stroked the palms of his hands over her firm nipples and felt them grow even firmer through the flannel. She began to unbutton the row of what seemed to be countless buttons on the bodice of her nightgown.

As soon as she’d undone half of them, he placed his hand on her bare flesh. The heat and softness of her breasts made his cock throb. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to focus on her and not give in to the hunger that pulsed through his flesh with every heartbeat.

“I want to feel your mouth on them,” she said, as she stopped un-buttoning then tugged at the cloth. “Oh, all these buttons!”

“Here, allow me,” he said, brushing her hands away and taking the two sides of her bodice and tearing them apart. Buttons popped and flew about them on the chaise longue.

She gasped and then laughed, a wicked, womanly type of laugh that made his blood boil even more.

Her breasts, freed from the nightgown, were so full, and her nipples a dark rose.

He bent and put his lips to her breast. The satiny softness was a delight, and he lingered, enjoying the warmth of her flesh on his lips and the scent of her.

He flicked his tongue, drawing a slow line until he reached her nipple.

She trembled against him. He drew her erect nipple into his mouth, and she cried out and clutched his head . “Oh, cielo!”

He reached a hand down and grasped a handful of her bunched-up nightgown. “This damn flannel...”

He took her mouth again, and she groaned, and then he felt the delicate tremble in her body. He contorted his body and reached for the hem of that damned heavy garment that kept him from touching her bare flesh.

“I have to touch you. I am mad to touch you,” he breathed against her mouth. “Are you wet for me, love? You know that I am going to make you come. Before you go leave this room, I am going to make you come so hard.”

She moaned as her pelvis arched towards him.

At her open eagerness, he groaned in frustration as he still fought with the long, heavy hem, feeling the soft prickle of the yards of expensive lace.

And he stopped for a moment and pressed his palm against the apex of her legs, feeling the damp heat of her intimate flesh that had soaked through the cloth.

“Oh, cielo...” Her breath was hot, and wine scented as it blew over his face.

“Yes, my beautiful love, you’re going to find heaven this night. I am going to take you there.”

With luck, more than once.

Finally, he was able to trail his hand up along her thigh, upwards until he reached her warm wetness.

“You’re so luscious, so wet. Do you know what it does to me? Do you know how the feel of your hot, wet cunny makes my cock ache? Do you have the least idea of how badly my cock aches to be inside this hot, wet cunny of yours?”

He leaned back for a moment and observed her spread-legged on this chaise longue in his hunting lodge.

If only he’d thought to light the lamps, he’d be able to look at her there, but the firelight was slowly waning.

All he could see was a maddening image of the dark brown hair on her mons and a shadowy, teasing glimpse of what he most wanted to see.

He cupped her mons and put his mouth over hers again.

Then, with a gentle, slow finger, he parted her folds.

She shivered and thrust her tongue against his.

He slid his finger up and swept over her pearl, finding it already firm.

He stroked her in slow circular motions until her hips danced, and she kissed him frantically.

He thrust a finger into her.

“Evan!” His name sounded so sweet in her breathless voice.

He pulled his finger out of her sheath, and she cried out a sound of protest. He pushed into her again, this time with two fingers. Her inner walls squeezed his fingers. “I adore your hot, wet, tight cunny,” he whispered against her mouth.

She moaned, and he kissed her again, deeply, hungrily, and kept working his fingers back and forth in her. He licked her lips with soft flicks.

“The things I am going to do to you with my tongue,” he promised her, then he broke away from her sweet mouth and trailed a rain of hungry kisses down her neck. “I am going to make you scream with pleasure, so much pleasure.”

What? What had he just said? He was going to do what with his tongue?

He was sucking and kissing his way down her neck, biting gently between every other kiss.

The tickling sensation made her gasp and giggle.

Her nipples ached; her body tingled all over.

He was still thrusting his fingers in and out of her.

She had never experienced such an all-over sensation.

She had never tingled from head to foot like this.

Her body seemed to anticipate each thrust of his fingers, her pelvis arching faster than she would have ever believed she could move her body, and what had been a pleasure was turning into the most exquisite aching agony.

But she didn’t want him to stop.

She couldn’t bear it if he stopped.

He brushed his thumb over her most sensitive place, the little nub that had grown so erect and throbbing. The tension inside her became unbearable and quickly centered on that tiny part of her.

Then everything exploded. Pleasure burst within her and spread through her whole body as her inner walls squeezed his fingers. She had never come so hard.

Oh Mamma Mia!

“Evan, Evan,” she cried out, and then she went limp, feeling the strong ticking inside her, the aftereffects of pleasure.

He was kissing her breasts. Gentle, soft touches of his lips that sent tingles through her whole body, even down to her toes. Gentle kisses like the brush of a butterfly’s wings made her nipples ache for friction. A teasing kind of torment that made her long for him to touch her more roughly.

She took her breasts in her hands and squeezed them, showing him that she was ready for more.

More touch, more sensation. She heard herself pleading, words tumbling out, words she didn’t even know she could say.

She could only hope that he had studied Italian deeply and not just from his schoolbooks.

“Angela...” He had practically growled her name. The vibrations from his chest radiated to her body, sending new shivering thrills through her. He took the torn edges of her gown and tore them even more.

She gasped.

He kept tearing the cloth. She lifted her hips until he was able to pull the two halves of the garment down her legs. Tearing her expensive nightdress. But she didn’t care.

He brushed the palms of his hands over her aching nipples. The slight roughness of his skin created the most delicious friction. Pleasure burst on the sensitive tips, and she cried out. “Yes, yes, yes, more!”

“Your breasts are so gorgeous. They are so perfect.” He rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

Pleasure rendered her incapable of thought or speech. She could only moan and writhe. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them, giving her all the roughness and sensation that she craved. Long moments of sensation. Such a splendid sensation. She writhed all the more, moaning with sheer bliss.

He kissed his way down her belly, sending shivers of sensation through her body. Then his mouth touched her mons.

She sucked in her breath and then clutched his hair. “Evan!”

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with passion. “Angela...”

She could have fainted at such close inspection of her intimate self. Except she was mindless with desire.

He blew warm air over her. Then he raised his head and looked at her again. “I am dying to taste you. I’ve been dying to taste you.”

“Evan, what are you doing?” she asked, suddenly panicked. Men did this to women? She didn’t think they did.

“I am loving you, Angela.” He pressed his face against her most intimate part, actually putting his face right there.

Then he lifted his head and traced a fingertip over her folds.

“You are so beautiful here. You have the most perfect cunny.” He lowered his head and flicked his tongue along her folds.

“You taste so good.” He licked deeper into her cleft, deeper into the entrance to her.

“You taste like honey and spice. I love your taste and your scent.”

He licked her again, his wet tongue like liquid fire everywhere he touched it to her throbbing, aching flesh, and with each touch of his wicked, wicked tongue, she gasped. Gasped at the wonder of it. She had not dreamed of this. Ever.

He continued to circle her nub with his tongue, and pleasure pulsed through her, stronger and stronger.

She clutched his head, thrust her pelvis at him and pulled at his hair, all the while she heard herself moaning and pleading with him never to stop, though her voice seemed to be coming from a distance.

Everything within her drew tighter than she could bear and then released into what seemed to her to be a spinning kaleidoscope of pleasure. She came back to herself slowly.

“I am sorry, love,” he said, already in the act of parting her legs. “I can’t wait. I’ve got to be inside you.”

Limp and weak, she could only moan and part her legs.

At the touch of his cock at her entrance, her sex clenched hungrily.

“Oh per favore...”

He thrust into her.

There was a moment’s discomfort. Only for a moment and then, the most exquisite pleasure-pain radiated up through her belly and outward through her body. “Molto Buono...superlativo!”

She had screamed the last as he increased the tempo of his thrusts.

He was chanting something over and over. Maybe he was saying she was tight? That it felt good? She only partly comprehended him as she clung to him and climaxed, screaming as the waves of pleasure came harder and harder, her inner walls clenching his flesh over and over and over.

He inhaled sharply and then groaned. His body shook against hers. Then he fell off to the side before enfolding her in his arms. “My love,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

It was the last thing she remembered before sleep overtook her.