Page 40 of Olive Becket Plays the Rake (The Seattle Suffrage Society)

Then his hand was dancing over her curls, parting her swollen lips and grazing her sensitive folds. The pleasure was exquisite, even better than the first time. How could that be possible?

“Oh, God,” she moaned, fumbling blindly to grip his shoulder. “Emil!”

“You feel so good,” he crooned. “I love your soft sighs. Your gasps. Let me hear you moan.”

He rubbed his thumb up and down her slit, circled at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her abdomen clenched, and her core pulsed with molten need.

Her gaze skittered from his face down to his hands and back again.

It was impossibly lewd, seeing his fingers touching her most intimate places.

Lewd, but the most incredible thing she’d ever seen.

He’d been right to want to watch when they were on the sofa.

Feeling was one thing, but seeing was added bliss.

Then the tip of his finger slipped inside her, and she couldn’t hold back. A moan slipped free.

“Such a good moan. Look at yourself in the mirror,” he urged her. “See what I see.”

She dragged her gaze to the mirror, but she didn’t see herself.

All she could focus on was the obscene beauty of Emil’s fingers dancing on her folds.

He moved slowly, but unerringly. He gave her time to adjust, then added more.

He was so gentle. So knowledgeable. Pleasure came in waves.

His fingers stroked her inside, then withdrew to rub her wetness on her nub.

She risked a glance upward, to look at herself.

She was flushed, her lip swollen from biting it.

Still coiled, still holding back. But she was trying.

“Put your foot here.”

She realized he had dragged a footstool closer with one hand, and she let him move her as he pleased.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she was opened to his gaze.

The temptation to jump down was strong, to mash her thighs together and allow embarrassment to take over.

But she held on. Focused on his tight, riveted expression, which showed her how pleased he was with her.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was gravelly. “Are you ready for more?”

“I think so,” she said in a daze. “More what?”

“Oh yes, you want more.” He chuckled lightly, his warm breath raising goose pimples across her skin.

“And I need it. I need to know how this gorgeous pussy tastes.” Her hips undulated forward, almost in invitation, at his words.

It was mortifying, but it appeared to be exactly what he wanted.

A fierce expression hardening his features, almost like he was in pain.

“I love how your pussy knows what it wants. How it craves my tongue.” He grasped her buttocks with both hands and leaned forward.

He paused a breath away from her pulsating, needy place, and whispered, “I’m going to make you come apart all over my face, k?raste. ”

He parted her with his thumbs, and his tongue swept across her sex—

Oh.

He licked up and down her folds—

Oh, God.

He was everywhere, burrowing into places she’d had no idea could feel so good.

His lips circled her clitoris, lapping it gently.

One finger played at her entrance, taunting her while his lips and tongue worked their magic.

The combination was exquisite torture, nothing she could ever have imagined.

Her head rolled back, and her eyes fluttered shut—

He stilled.

Her body wailed in frustration. Her eyes flew open, a protest on her lips, only to find him watching her with gentle intensity.

“Stay with me.”

“But I—”

“I want you to see what I see. How much I fucking love touching you. When you’re right there at the edge, I want you to look at yourself. I want you to see how beautiful you are.”

Desire and vulnerability warred inside her, but the warmth in his voice steadied her. She needed him. Needed his touch. And if that meant believing she could be beautiful, even for a moment, she could try. She gave a small, shaky nod.

“I will. Now, please, Emil. Please, give me more.”

“You’re so brave,” he breathed. “And brave girls are rewarded.”

He kept his eyes on hers as he leaned forward.

His tongue flicked against her, then dipped inside her.

She shuddered at the new pleasure, her walls constricting around him.

He plunged in and out with his tongue, his gaze never leaving hers.

It was obscene. Terrible. Wonderful. She couldn’t look away.

His hands squeezed her buttocks, kneading her while his tongue worked in and out of her.

Her gasps and mewls punctuated the air. And all the while, he held her gaze. Gave her his approval.

It was becoming hard to breathe. She needed release.

She needed more. Barely knowing what she was doing, she put a hand on the back of his head and ground down on Emil.

He moaned into her sex, and she knew she'd pleased him.

A finger probed into her, stretching her while he lapped at her flesh. It was too much, she was going to—

Her gaze flew to the mirror. The woman in the reflection was in the throes of passion. Her hair flowing down her back, her bare breasts heaving. Hips undulating wantonly while a man knelt between her legs, worshipping her pussy as if she were a goddess.

Her.

It was her.

She was all the things Emil said.

She let go of her embarrassment. Her hesitations and worries.

She let go of it all. Allowed herself to live fully in this moment and embrace this new side of herself.

Moans spilled from her mouth as pleasure wound higher and higher.

Emil was changing her. She was changing herself.

She wanted it all. Wanted to feel everything.

“More,” she gasped.

Emil slid another finger inside her, his tongue and lips relentless on her sex. Pleasure rocked through her, and she cried out, shuddering. The woman in the mirror—her—bit her lip and ground down on Emil’s mouth.

She reached the pinnacle and tumbled down the other side, shaking and spasming, gasps and moans wrenched from her mouth. Emil guided her over, never letting up. Not letting her miss out on even one minuscule spasm of pleasure.

At last, she could take no more. She shuddered and fell forward over Emil’s broad shoulder.

Sated. Content. Safe.

Emil carried Olive to the bed on wobbly legs.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped.

He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused. His cock was bent against the inside of his pants. Should have taken them off before he’d touched Olive. But he’d been so focused on her. Hadn’t wanted her to be distracted from her own pleasure for even a moment.

“You’re incredible,” he said again as he laid her on the blanket. “Incredible.”

Seemed he’d lost his capacity for speech.

Olive didn’t seem to notice or mind the repetition.

Each iteration brought a fresh smile, a small flush.

God, she responded so beautifully to compliments.

He wanted to shower her in them, to drown her in words that made her glow as brightly as she did now.

Hard to believe he’d doubted he’d be able to do it.

He certainly didn’t care if what he said wasn’t eloquent.

If it made Olive happy, if it made her shake with pleasure, then they were the right words.

He shoved his pants down his legs, then took his aching cock in his hand with relief.

“I’m so fucking hard for you. Look what you did to me.”

Olive stretched languidly on the bed, her curious gaze moving to his cock. Her eyes widened at the weeping tip, at the way he roughly moved his hand up and down his shaft.

She rolled to her knees. “Can I feel…”

He held still, hands clenched at his sides, while she explored his length with her good hand.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. He’d almost come twice already, just from watching Olive blossom and shudder on his mouth.

It was insanity. Where was his control? Where was his unflappable prowess?

All it took was one virgin wallflower—no.

All it took was Olive, and he was a randy, inexperienced young man again. He huffed out a laugh.

Olive looked up from her explorations. “Should this be making you laugh?”

“It isn’t,” he assured her. “I’m laughing at how close I am to spilling. Already. Again.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not bad, exactly. Surprising is the better word.”

“Because of…me?” She studied him, her hand tightening around his cock.

“Yes,” he groaned. She might be inexperienced in bed, but her musicians’ hands held a power of their own. “Just like that. A bit harder.” He wrapped his hand over hers and showed her how to jerk him. “Fuck, yes. That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

Too good. He was seconds away from spilling—from only her hand.

“Enough,” he managed. “Or you’ll make me come. I don’t want to come yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to come inside you.”

“Oh.” She looked at his cock, then back up at him. “I want that, too.”

“Let me get the condom.”

He rolled to the edge of the bed and opened the package he’d set out earlier.

Getting the condom on, however, was easier said than done.

His fucking hands were shaking. What the hell was that about?

He shook his head, exasperated with himself, and fought for composure.

The condom finally in place, he moved between Olive’s long, lean legs.

He stroked his hand down her skin, then looked up at her.

She smiled back shyly, and his heart turned over in his chest.

“You’re so soft and sweet,” he said quietly, his hand reaching to her slit. He was pleased to find she was still wet. She was as excited about this as he was. He would make it as good for her as he could. “This is going to be—”

“Incredible,” she finished in a teasing voice.

He had no rebuttal. Had entirely lost the ability to speak.

All he could do was focus on sliding slowly, tenderly, inside her welcoming pussy.

Inch by inch, she took him. He moved slowly, giving her body time to adjust. Doing his best to avoid causing her pain.

When he filled her to the hilt, he let out his breath.

“Christ,” he managed, trembling with the need to withdraw. To plunge. To fuck. But he held tightly to his control. Then, she squeezed him from the inside. He saw stars.

“Oh.” Her voice was full of wonder. “Did you feel that?”

“Yes.” He hissed as she did it again. Her pussy walls clenched and pulsed around him, and a fine sweat broke out on his brow.

“It feels good,” she decided.

“So fucking good.” Yet he held still.

She did it a third time, then tilted her head back to look at him. “Are you going to move…or…?”

A laugh shuddered out of him. “I’m trying very, very hard not to spill right now. I’m on the edge, k?raste. Already.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?”

He pulled out slowly, then sank back in with exquisite slowness.

Her sigh of pleasure tickled his ear. Her thighs pressed against his legs, anchoring him to her.

He counted to ten in his mind, withdrew, then plunged in again.

And again, faster. And again, harder. Over and over.

He bit his lip, but it was no use. He was going to come, he could feel it.

He steeled himself, growing rigid on top of her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Need to slow down,” he ground out. “Make this better for you.”

“But it is good for me,” she murmured shyly into his ear. “Watching you lose control while you’re inside me is…well, it’s wonderful.” She swept her hands over his back, squeezing his shoulders. “You can let go, too. Anytime you’re ready.”

This beautiful, incredible woman. She took his bold commands, his invitations, and turned them on him? How could he resist? Why would he resist?

He unchained himself, let himself fuck and fuck and fuck. He was wild with need, and he dipped his head to suck on her neck, to lick her salty skin, to hear her moans in his ears. And then he was jerking, spasming so hard a deep, rough groan ripped from his chest.

His arms buckled, and he collapsed at Olive’s side. He sank into the cushions, his breathing harsh, his body still inflamed. She made as if to move aside, to give him more room, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

Or what he needed.

He hauled her into his arms, sweeping one hand over her back and pressing his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, violet scent. “I knew you’d be incredible,” he murmured.

Her cheeks stretched into a smile against his shoulder. “I knew I’d be the best you’d ever had.”

He huffed out a laugh, then cuddled her closer.

Rule number five could go to hell.