Page 19 of Too Brazen to Bite (Gothic Love Stories #5)
He laved the nipple once, twice, then began to suckle.
He tugged the sleeves from her arms, shoved her gown to her hips, to the floor.
His hands slid from the backs of her knees to the backs of her thighs, simultaneously lifting her shift and guiding her forward so that she straddled his hips, the firm length of his encaged manhood pressing against the moist surface of her bare?—
“Ellie.” His eyes hot on hers, he lifted his mouth from her breast ever so slowly, dragging her nipple along his tongue and across his lower lip to glisten wetly before his parted mouth. “Are you certain you want to?—”
Her hands were at his shoulders before she consciously gave them the order to do so, shoving him backward onto the bed.
She covered his mouth with hers, stopping his questions with her teeth, with her tongue.
She closed her fists over his shirt, rending the fine linen as she exposed his chest to her wanton fingers, to the sensitive nubs of her breasts as she pressed them against him.
His hands fastened about her waist, rocking her hips, slowly grinding her against him until she caught the rhythm with a gasp of ignited desire.
Without breaking rhythm, without tearing his mouth from hers, he slid his hands up her spine to her corset.
He loosened the ribbon until the whalebone prison fell away, and with it, what was left of her chemise.
One hand pressed to the base of her spine to hold her in place. He leaned up from the bed just enough to allow her to whip free his jacket, his waistcoat, his shirtsleeves, until nothing was left but his boots and his breeches.
She slid down his body until she knelt before him. She tugged free one boot, then the other. Her deliberate slowness in doing so must have exhausted the last of his preternatural patience, for he had his fall unbuttoned and his breeches discarded before she had taken a breath.
He pulled her up, gently, sweetly. Holding her close, he rolled so that she was no longer atop him. He had one arm propped on either side of her ribs, and the naked length of him was hot against her belly.
She was now the prisoner and he the captor. But the look on his face indicated she held all the power.
“Kiss my breast,” she whispered, arching toward his mouth. “Touch me as I long to touch you.”
“With pleasure.”
He bent his head to her breast. The knuckles of one hand brushed against the plump curve, then slid to her side, her hip, the inside of her thigh. Once again, her insides clenched with need as he stroked closer and closer to her core, never quite touching the center where she ached for him.
His other hand left her cheek. He splayed both across her thighs, as if preparing to force them apart. No need. Ellie was beyond ready. If he didn’t give them both release soon, she was going to scream.
He trapped her nipple with his teeth, biting lightly. Ellie’s head jerked upright as she gasped, unsure whether she should push his head away or beg him to do it again.
As if reading her mind, he performed the same sweet torture on the other breast, suckling the nipple to diamond hardness and scraping ever so gently with his teeth as he pulled his mouth away. She nearly flew off the bed.
His hips rising, he bent lower and lower, pressing a trail of hot, slow kisses from the valley between her breasts to the sensitive skin just beneath. He continued lower, along her stomach, over to the swell of her hip, down the impossibly tense muscle of her thighs.
Keeping his fangs at bay, he began to lick. First the quivering flesh of her inner thigh, then just a little higher, and a little higher still, until finally, finally, his tongue reached where his fingers had not.
Her hands shot out to grab fistfuls of his hair, holding him in place.
His tongue drew endless lazy circles, as if he had all the time in the world to torture her until she fractured from the inside out.
She slid one hand from his hair, gliding her palm up her stomach to hover just above her breast, as if wanting to touch it, to touch herself, but daring not.
Her nipple tightened, and the aching tip brushed against the edge of her palm.
As if he sensed what she was doing and sought to tempt her even more, Cain dragged his thumb over her wet core, circling, pressing, until the pad slipped within her as his mouth and tongue returned their attentions to her nub.
Ellie cried out, arching into his face, into his finger, her head tossed backward as her hands found her breasts, rolled her nipples beneath her fingers as she writhed against the climbing pressure in her core.
“C-Cain.” The word came out an incomprehensible moan. “I?—”
Then his mouth was on hers, drinking every gasp as his shaft filled her. Her fingernails dug into his back as she lifted her legs higher, wrapped him tighter, forced him deeper, faster, faster.
He ducked his head to her shoulder and pressed his open mouth to her skin.
As the first contraction of her climax hit, she lifted her head until his shoulder was close enough to taste.
With the tip of her tongue, she traced the hard, salty curve.
Her inner muscles squeezed tighter with every thrust.
As he gave a shudder indicating his own imminent surrender, the pressure of his kiss increased against her skin.
She kissed his neck, his chest, ran her tongue along the bare strength of his shoulder.
Their bodies joined faster. He moaned against her skin as another shudder wracked his body.
Her release was instantaneous. Twin points painlessly punctured her skin, doubling her pleasure.
Instinctively, she bit down and did the same.