Page 28 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

A melia sat up, her bunched nightgown twisting around her waist, her heart still racing from the highs of her first orgasm, as Fran had called it. Graham was huddled near her womanhood, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of her thigh, so quiet but breathing hard.

“Graham?” She spoke quietly, unsure of what he wanted or what he was thinking after they’d done something he’d no doubt call a mistake, but to Amelia it was mind-shatteringly spectacular. How could anything that felt so wonderful be a mistake?

He lifted his gaze to her, his green eyes so bright, his pupils large pools of black. He slowly stood. She widened her legs reflexively, giving him room to stand close to her. She didn’t want him to go.

Graham didn’t back away. He just watched her, but something else caught her attention, something fascinating and forbidden. His manhood surged forward in his breeches, with a dark wet spot at the tip. He didn’t pull away from her as she openly stared at his groin. Did that mean...? She looked up at him, searching for direction. Would he let her touch him?

Fran had also gone into great detail about a man’s anatomy, its sensitivity, and what happened when a man found his pleasure. The fluid that erupted. The seed that could create children if one were not careful.

She tentatively raised her hand, her stomach tightening with anxious curiosity and desire. He tensed, but he did not stop her. Knowing that he would stop her if she went too far, she reached for him, her palm cupping him.

His breath hissed out between his teeth.

Amelia pulled back. “Does that hurt?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. What did that mean? He wasn’t helping her at all. She tried again, her touch firmer as she attempted to grasp him. He pushed back with his hips, his breath hitching.

Now she understood. He did want her touch, but he also wanted to stay in control. She smoothed her hand over the length of him, feeling the tension in his body and the way it indicated what felt good. That wet spot grew, and Amelia was curious. He had kissed her before like he would die without her. Would it be that way for her if she tasted him? His head had fallen back, and she leaned forward, touching her tongue to that spot.

His hips bucked and he groaned, attention snapping back to her.

“Amelia, you shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t but... I can?” She did it again. She loved seeing him so unraveled. This time, she lightly sucked at the fabric, tasting him.

“Oh God, I can’t—I don’t have the will to resist you,” he said, his voice guttering.

The power she had over him thrilled her. This appendage was truly every man’s weakness. It was no surprise they caused so much trouble. But Amelia was not done exploring. He’d ravished her and sent her to a place she’d never known existed. She wanted to understand this power and what it could do. Remembering Fran’s words and how unappealing this act had sounded, Amelia now understood what she was supposed to do. She reached for the buttons on the flap of his breeches, and to her surprise, Graham helped her. His face was a mask of tortured yearning. He wanted her. He wanted her to touch him, taste him, and love his body in this intimate way, and that sent her heart soaring. She couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, feeling this empowered and safe to explore this new world.

He freed himself, his organ prodding out, and he gripped the base, running his fist upward. Amelia watched in fascination as a little bead of pearly liquid appeared. She licked her lips, then licked the tip. His body shuddered in response, and she was done waiting. He let go and gave her control. She took him in hand. Not knowing how she was meant to do this, she followed her instincts. Amelia opened her mouth, taking the tip of him in.

“Amelia,” he sighed. His hand slid into her hair, and he guided her slowly, cautiously, to take him deeper into her mouth, deep enough to almost gag, and then pulled her back.

That was enough instruction from him. She wanted to learn by doing. So she took over, measuring her own pace, and her own depth, teasing him with licks and strokes in between. He stopped guiding her but still kept his hand in her hair, fingers tightening. He gently thrust into her movements, breathing ragged, groans slipping through as if he couldn’t stop them, like she pulled them from his soul.

His hips and thighs tightened, and he bucked, pulling her head back.

“I’m going to come,” he said, his voice rough. “Keep your hands on me.”

As his body locked up, Amelia kept up her ministrations and he pulsed in her hands. He covered the tip with his own hand and caught his release.

This was the eruption Fran had described, and it was fascinating to see. His face, his shoulders, his stomach, and legs. He felt it everywhere, his whole body reacting just as hers had to the immense pleasure. And then he relaxed, letting out a lengthy sigh, his knees weakening as he bent forward, one hand on the bed to steady himself.

He leaned over her, and all Amelia wanted to do was hug him and pull him down to lie with her, to bask in this glowing feeling for as long as it held, but for some confusing reason, that felt like too much, too close to being something they were not.

A couple. A real, loving couple.

No, they were something different, something illicit and secret that should shame her but did not. Because this was Graham, and as long as Graham was with her, then it wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be. He was never wrong.

So she leaned back, giving him space as he gathered himself together, regaining his strength to stand. His heated stare fell over her bare body, and she could not and would not hide a single thing from him. The way he worshipped her with his gaze made her feel like a goddess.

He reached out and tugged at her breasts, as if he simply could not resist touching her, and she liked that too. He couldn’t resist her. He reached for the coverlet, wiping his hand and then he tucked himself away to Amelia’s disappointment. Now she felt like it was her turn to right herself, but she didn’t want to. If he wanted her covered, he could do it himself.

“I’m—”

“If you apologize, I will shoot you, so help me, Graham.”

He sighed heavily this time, not with pleasure and lust like before. “Amelia, this was...”

“Wonderful. I feel wonderful and beautiful.”

His focus steadied on her face. “Do you?”

“Yes. So don’t ruin it. Don’t say something foolish or prudish, or say words like duty or dishonor . Please.”

He looked at her, and Amelia leaned back farther, pushing her breasts out. They felt heavy and sensitive under his gaze, in need of attention. His eyes darkened once more, and she wanted to smile with triumph, but she wouldn’t. His sensibilities were too fragile. If startled, he’d quit and run.

He leaned over her with his weight on one hand propped on the bed and cupped her breast with the other, bending to tease the tip with his tongue, and Amelia shivered, arching into his kiss. She didn’t want this moment to end.

But then he drew back, tugging her nightgown up and over her arms and shoulders.

“Fine, I won’t say anything. It seems you already know what I would say.”

“I do, and I don’t care to hear it.”

“Then I’ll leave you to rest.”

He strode away, unlocking the door and pausing to glance back at her one more time. Reluctant to leave? she wanted to taunt, but she held back. She wouldn’t spoil this moment with sharp words either. Not when it was still so perfect. So she lay back on her side, pulling up her coverlet. Her eyes were already heavy as the door clicked shut.