Page 19 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
He raised an eyebrow and grinned wickedly. “Why, I might just let them look their fill. I’d be proud to show everyone how beautiful my wife was.”
There was that word again, wife. And he’d mentioned marrying her when they first arrived there at the house. He should simply propose and end his uncertainty. Then he’d know whether she preferred Simon over him.
He dropped to his knees, bringing him closer to eye level with her thatch of dark curls, but he didn’t touch them yet. Inhaling deeply, he hoped to catch the scent of her arousal, but it was too soon. Grasping her hips, he urged her to sit, then he removed her shoes.
Untying one of her garters, he rolled her stocking down her leg. As he took it off, he kissed her toes and suckled them, before trailing his tongue up her leg and untying her other garter. He liked the way her hips rocked when his tongue neared her cunny, but he didn’t go there yet. He waited until he had the second stocking off, then nudged her shoulders so she’d lie back.
With his hands behind her pale, bare knees, he stood, spreading her to his gaze. For a moment, all he could do was stare. “Zee, you’re so incredibly beautiful.”
“I want to see you too,” she said, her gaze bold and full of longing.
He nodded and began to undress, but kept his eyes on her as if this was the first time he’d seen her. This was a first, though. Their first time alone in a place where they could explore each other’s likes and dislikes. He planned to know every inch of her before she left.
When his clothes and boots were in a pile on the floor, he stood before her, his cock rising proud and hard. He fisted himself and watched her reaction.
“Owen,” she said softly, raising a hand to him.
“Soon,” he said. He lifted her knees again and this time bent to taste her, licking her fully. She was already damp for him, but not wet enough. He let his tongue play, circling, entering, flicking, and he briefly sucked her bud into his mouth, rubbing his lower teeth over it.
She cried out, bucking her hips. He chuckled, and began kissing and licking a trail up her torso, nibbling the padding of flesh around her belly button, and dipping his tongue in the small indentation. Then he kissed his way to her breasts, and spend a long time with them. He loved how they filled his hand—and more—and how her rosy nipples tightened just from him looking at them. He couldn’t get his fill.
But his cock had waited long enough, not satisfied with the gentle strokes Zee gave it as he enjoyed her breasts. Owen crawled up the bed and lay with his head on his pillow. He curled a finger at her. “Come here.”
“If I must.” She heaved a dramatic sigh and crawled up beside him. He draped one of her legs across his and helped her position herself on his lap, guiding his hard length into her wet heat. She hissed with pleasure.
He groaned, savoring the feel as she slowly settled onto him. She wriggled a bit, and he grasped the bend of her hips, pressing his thumbs against her clitoris. Her delighted gasp made his cock jump, so he pressed again. “I want to watch you ride me.”
Zee began to rock slowly, and he watched her hands lift to cup her breasts. “Yes, that’s it,” he encouraged. “Don’t they feel wonderful? Pinch your nipples.”
She did. Her cunny tightened around his cock.
“Do you touch your breasts when you’re alone at night?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Show me. I want to watch how you please yourself.”
Her hands got busy with those heavy mounds, pinching her nipples, tugging them, then one hand slid between her legs and he held his breath. “You touch yourself there, too?”
“Yes.”
His thumbs spread her lips so he could see her finger her clitoris. Fuck. He hadn’t imagined she pleasured herself that way. “Do you think of me when you do that?”
“Yes, Owen. I imagine it’s your tongue on me.”
Fuck. His cock nearly burst at those words. His hips rose to meet her. “I love licking your cunny, tasting your sweetness. I love having my cock in you, watching you ride me while you make yourself come. Do it for me, Zee.”
He pumped into her so fast she was bouncing on him, her breasts jiggling, and her fingers continued to work her bud. She moaned, softly at first, then suddenly cried out, arching back, her body tense. Her inner muscles milked him into his release, and he groaned, holding her hips to keep her in place.
When he could move again, Owen held Zee close, her heart thundering against his chest. He twitched a few times inside her and rubbed his hand up and down her back. She felt so right in his arms, in his bed. He didn’t want to move.
But he needed to. She couldn’t stay long without her parents questioning how far they’d walked. Tenderly, he disentangled himself from her embrace and wet a cloth in the basin of water in the corner. With utmost care, he cleaned Zee, his touch as gentle as he could make it.
“Is this all right?” he asked as he blotted the wet fluids between her legs.
“It feels nice,” she answered, her smile soft and filled with a trust that warmed him to his core.
In the afterglow, as he lay beside her, tracing idle patterns across her skin, a sense of rightness settled over him. Here, in the quiet intimacy of his home, with Zee nestled against him, every doubt seemed trivial. Her feelings for him were clear.