Page 47

He hid a smile from her. “Occasionally.”

“Do women tend to like it when you do it?”

He kissed her forehead, nuzzling her lazily. “Mmh-hmm,” he murmured in agreement.

“Do you think I’ll like it?” She was sounding nervous, the perfect time for him to pull away, leave her, which he would do, if he weren’t such a very bad man.

“Maybe.” It was a taunt, one he shouldn’t give in to. No woman has ever left his bed unsatisfied. Georgie was more important than all the faceless other women, and he intended to leave her screaming his name before the night was through.

He wanted to taste her badly, but he wondered if she’d be too shocked. Bertha probably hadn’t explained that, but he found he couldn’t resist temptation.

“Just lie there,” he said, in a gravelly voice, moving down her body. Her legs were tight together, and he laughed. “It doesn’t work that way.”

She relaxed her legs a fraction. “Are you going to do it now?”

“Do it?” he echoed, amused.

“What Bertha told me.”

“Let’s leave Bertha out of this. No, I’m going to get you ready.”

“How?”

He started to move her legs apart, but she resisted. He kissed her then, full and hard and deep, holding nothing back, and she rose to meet him, her legs falling open.

He caressed her, with his hands, his mouth, working his way down her body until he reached her mound. “Don’t be too shocked,” he said, his voice light with amusement.

“Why would I... Oh, my God!” He had put his mouth between her legs, and she jerked, trying to close herself off from him.

But he was prepared, holding her legs apart as he went down on her.

She was sweet, delicious, and he’d forgotten how much he loved it.

Loved this with her and her squeaky protests.

She was shoving at his shoulders, trying to dislodge him, but he found her sweet spot and sucked, and she let out a loud, frightened moan.

He continued, using his lips, his tongue and his teeth, and at some point, she stopped fighting him.

Threaded her fingers through his long hair and held him against her.

It was easy to tell when she was near her peak, her breathing was short, her hips were moving, restlessly, and she stopped talking in full sentences, coming out with choked phrases like “oh my God” and “don’t” and “more.”

The “more” was permission enough. He brought her to the edge, holding her there, until she broke, letting out a satisfying scream.

He moved then, wiping his mouth on the bedclothes as he surged over her.

He was still dressed, and he tore away at his clothes, kicking out of them while she lay there and trembled in continuing reaction.

He couldn’t wait any longer, and he started to move over her, when she reached out, stopping him, and he wanted to howl in frustration.

“Shouldn’t I...do something?” she whispered in a strained voice. “Or do I just lie here and let you do it?”

He took her small hand in his, and he put it on his cock. She tried to shrink back but he held her there. Getting her used to the feel of him, the heat and hardness that needed her so desperately.

“This will never work,” she whispered.

“Trust me,” he said, when he knew that was the last thing she should do. He was about to ruin her, and he damned well couldn’t stop himself, particularly when her fingers wrapped around him and explored him until he was ready to explode.

And then he was over her, between her legs, heavy and hard and desperate.

Her tear-drenched eyes flew open. “I don’t…” She gasped. “I’m not ready… I’m afraid.”

He started to pull back, knowing he should, but she put her arms around him, pulling him close. “Don’t leave me.”

He wanted to growl his frustration. She was killing him, but he held still, so close to heaven and yet so far. She looked at him, and there was no hiding the fear in her eyes, and he began to pull away.

“I want you,” she said in a raw whisper, clinging to him, and his last qualm left him.

“Hush,” he said, and he pushed into her.

Her cry was short and sharp as he broke the barrier, and he held still for a moment to get her used to the feel of him. She was panting slightly, and he kissed her softly and sweetly, and she let out her breath, accepting his invasion, accepting him.

He could’ve finished then and there, but he was greedy. He wanted to make her climax again with him inside her, wanted everything from her, and he began to move.

He started to pull out, but she clutched at him. “Don’t… stop,” she gasped, and it took all his battered self-control, not to see slam inside her.

But he moved slowly, rocking her back and forth, drawing a nascent response from her. She felt so good beneath him, and he wanted more. He wanted her to love him, and she swore she did.

It changed faster than he could have imagined, the slow rocking turning into something fiercer. She was arching up to meet him, their bodies sweat-slick in the early morning air as he thrust into her, harder, deeper, needing her and everything she was, loving her.

Her cry signaled her release, and she tightened around him, pulling his own response from him. He pulled out, though it killed him to do so, and spilled on the warmth of her skin, holding her as she shuddered against him.

He didn’t give a damn about the mess; he pulled her against him, into his arms, listening to her racing heart, her rapid breathing, as he held her. For a moment, she was stiff in his arms, and then she sank against him, clinging to him.

“Did you survive?” he whispered when he found he could talk.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered back.

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Again?” she sounded horrified. And then she gave a rusty little laugh. “Yes, please.” And they did.