Page 19 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

Chapter Eighteen

W ith quivering anticipation, Gigi watched Conrad reenter the room. He’d gone to fetch something, refusing to tell her what it was. To her surprise, he had brought in a book.

“This is something I haven’t shown to anyone,” he told her.

When he set the tattered blue volume on the billiards table, she felt her brows rise.

Slanting him a look, she said, “ The Naughty Naiad ?”

“At the boarding school I attended, one of the lads smuggled it in. He rented it out, and I was rather fascinated by it. A few years ago, I managed to secure a copy.”

He didn’t appear at all embarrassed to be sharing these facts with her. She found his comfort with sexual matters intriguing and arousing. Was there anything more attractive than a fellow who was confident in his own skin? The fact that he was baring his darker side was, frankly, rather thrilling. She liked his honesty—liked that he didn’t try to shield her from who he was.

Moreover, she’d never seen an erotic book before and was dying to take a peep.

“Go ahead and take a look,” he said.

At the roguish challenge in his eyes, she couldn’t resist.

She flipped open the cover, and as she turned the pages, her cheeks flamed. The story featured a beautiful nymph named Pearl and a brawny satyr named Prickonus, and illustrations accompanied the bawdy story. Detailed sketches depicted the pair engaged in all manner of debauchery. The opening chapter, entitled “The Meeting,” was about their first encounter, when Prick caught Pearl spying on him while he bathed. The image of the naked satyr emerging from the pond, water dripping from his massively erect member, sent a thrill of recognition up Gigi’s spine.

Conrad was standing behind her, reading over her shoulder. She was acutely aware of his nearness and heat. His masculine scent tightened a coil in her belly.

“Remind you of anything?” he murmured against her ear.

“The day we met at the stream,” she said breathlessly.

“Uncanny, isn’t it? The moment I laid eyes on you, I saw my fantasy come to life.”

She shivered as he covered her breasts with his large hands. Beneath her shirt, her nipples budded and throbbed at his proprietary touch.

“Keep reading,” he said in a low voice.

She turned the pages, her senses reeling at the depraved words and images. The plot of each story was the same: naughty Pearl would tease the randy satyr until he was beside himself with lust. She would flee, and he would pursue her, hampered by his enormous erection. In the end, he captured her because, Gigi suspected, the clever naiad wanted him to.

Then the truly wicked games would begin, all of them described and drawn in exquisite, titillating detail. Trembling with arousal, Gigi felt Conrad sweep aside her braid, his mouth hot against her neck. He undid her shirt, button by button.

“Enjoy the stories,” he said huskily. “Don’t mind me.”

Her shaky laugh melted into a moan as he caressed her bare breasts, his callused fingers teasing the stiff tips. It was difficult, but she directed her attention back to the book, flipping through images that steamed up her brain.

There was the one of Prick holding Pearl captive against a tree. In one large hand, he pinned her wrists above her head while he impaled her upon his thick staff. Pearl’s back was arched, her expression one of wild ecstasy.

In another picture, Prick had Pearl bent over a rock. Only this time, it wasn’t his member inside her but his tongue. He stabbed that long, pointed organ inside her with voracious rapture as her dew dripped down his face. She returned the favor in the next drawing, in which she was kneeling, her eyes wide as she took the satyr’s rod down her throat.

Image after image bombarded Gigi. Pearl bouncing atop a supine Prick, riding his thick shaft. Prick atop Pearl, her knees hooked over his shoulders, his bulging stones pressing tightly against her mound. The nymph and satyr entwined on the grass, their heads between the other’s thighs, sharing the most lascivious of kisses.

The pair coupled in ways that stretched Gigi’s imagination to its very limits. Yet their joining, while unabashedly physical, wasn’t just that. In each of their locked gazes, she saw a reflection of the other. Their primal need for connection had led them to their true mate, and they no longer had to wander the woods alone. Thinking of Conrad’s dark past, of how lonely his journey must have been without family or people he could count on, she understood why this story had captivated him.

Overwhelmed, Gigi felt Conrad unfasten her trousers, pushing them past her hips. Then he was touching her where she ached. Her head fell back against his shoulder as he fingered her slick crease.

“My own little nymph,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve searched so long for you. And here you are, beautiful and wanton, perfect for me.”

Her breath whooshed from her lungs as he lifted her, setting her on the table facing him. He removed the rest of her clothing, and wild with desire, she helped him. Because, she realized, she’d found her true mate, too.

As Gigi perched on the billiards table, naked and blushing, she was his every fantasy come to life. The lush sweep of her lashes, the rich vibrancy of her irises, her intoxicating form—he’d never seen her match and knew he never would. But it was more than that. He’d shared his private, filthy fantasies with her, and despite her innocence, she’d accepted them. Been aroused by them. What had started off as a game turned into a moment of startling recognition.

I’ve fallen in love with Gigi.

He wasn’t meant to lead a solitary life: he’d just been waiting for Gigi to wander into it. Gazing into her luminous eyes, he felt hunger, pain, and pleasure all at once. With her, he let himself feel everything.

Slowly, so slowly, he bent his head and kissed her.

It was like sinking into a bed of flowers. He took his time, enjoying the indescribable pleasure of kissing his mate. In the tender press of their lips, he felt the sealing of his future. When she sighed with yielding sweetness, he greedily staked his claim. He thrust his tongue so deep that it was a wonder she didn’t choke. Instead, she welcomed him with an excited little moan, and Christ, Christ , he had to have more of her. He tumbled her onto the table, and the sight of her lying on the field of green, her hair coming loose from her braid and her arms languidly stretched above her head, made him savage with lust.

He gathered her delicate wrists in one hand, pinning her for his pleasure. A breath puffed from her lips, but her dewy eyes shone with excitement.

“You’re mine,” he said with rough wonder.

Since nymphs were independent creatures, he set about proving the statement in ways that even Gigi couldn’t argue with. He strung a necklace of kisses around her throat, feeling her pulse throb beneath his lips. Her scent intoxicated him. She smelled like sex in a meadow of flowers, like making love to a sprite in her natural habitat.

Eventually, he moved onto her breasts. Firm and round, they had an irresistible jiggle.

“You have the most perfect tits,” he said.

Her shy giggle felt like a caress against his balls.

“You are original, I’ll grant you that.” Her cheeks pink, she peered up at him through her lashes. “That is the first time I’ve been paid that particular compliment.”

“Trust me, it’s not the first time a fellow has thought it,” he said dryly.

Because the notion of another man ogling her breasts caused his vision to flash red, he focused instead on the bounty in front of him. Reverently, he palmed one smooth tit, perfectly designed to fit his hand, and felt her shiver. Hell, he shivered too. When he grazed a thumb over her plump nipple, her breath hitched.

“There’s my favorite treat,” he murmured. “It’s better with nothing between us, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

He meant more than her shirt, and the way she ran her fingers along his jaw, with a tenderness that made his throat flex, conveyed that she felt their intimacy as well.

“Yes, it is,” she said.

The softness of her expression roused his darkest hunger. He nuzzled the crevice between her breasts as he rubbed both nipples. He breathed in her scent while her pillowy tits surged against his cheeks. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him close. He shut his eyes, every fiber of his being pleasured by her touch. He turned his lips to the curve of her breast, exploring the silken mound. He spiraled toward the straining peak and gently flicked it with his tongue. She gasped, her spine bowing off the table as he took his time enjoying his treat. He teased her nipples until they were swollen and lewdly wet, until she was panting his name.

“I love how sensitive you are,” he said thickly. “Will you come for me while I lick your tits?”

It was a rhetorical question, for she was clearly teetering on the edge. He sealed his lips around her nipple, sucking hard. When she cried out, he cupped her silky thatch. She was sopping wet. He rubbed the heel of his palm against her pearl, growling when she rewarded him with a gush of dew and arched wantonly into his touch.

Devil and damn . A man could only take so much.

Straightening, he unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it off. Too impatient to deal with his shoes, he shoved his trousers past his hips, grunting as he freed his erection. It slapped heavily into his palm. He groaned as he fisted himself, pumping slowly.

Gigi propped herself up on her elbows. “May I, um, help?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “There’s nothing I would like more.”

He helped her sit up on the edge of the table and wrapped her hand around his straining rod. Her breathy sound of excitement made him leap within her tender grip. The sight of her elegant fingers encircling his veined shaft enhanced his arousal. He closed his hand over hers, showing her what he liked.

“Frig me like this, duchess,” he said.

“With that much pressure?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Harder, if you can manage it.”

His words were filtered through his teeth because her touch, while inexperienced, was the most pleasurable he’d experienced, bar none. She gauged his response with sweet concentration, her bottom lip caught beneath her teeth, her gaze flitting between his face and his erection, which swelled in her fist. Her desire to please stroked the neediest part of him, the part he’d exposed to no one else.

“You’re touching me so well,” he told her. “See how hard you’ve made me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

But she faltered when a drop of seed oozed from his tip. Reaching between her thighs, he fingered her dewy slit, smiling when she whimpered.

“The wetness makes everything feel even better, doesn’t it?” he murmured.

When she rubbed her thumb over his flaring dome, he thanked his lucky stars that she was a quick study.

“Do you like that?” she asked, her voice sultry.

He thrust into her fist, letting her feel every pulsing inch of appreciation. “What do you think?”

“I think that is a yes.” She looked adorably pleased with herself.

Soon she was using both hands, her torturously gentle pumping bringing him to the edge…and keeping him there. He knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose, but she was prolonging his orgasm, building his lust to an almost unbearable degree without taking him over. His chest heaving, he watched his glossy cockhead push through the hole of her fist again and again. Suddenly, she used her other hand to tenderly cup his balls, and primal need took over.

Pushing her back onto the table, he aligned his cock with her slit and thrust it against her plush folds. Bliss sizzled through his veins at the bare contact.

She gasped. “Conrad, we shouldn’t?—”

“I won’t go inside, love,” he promised. “I just want to feel this sweet pussy against my cock. Doesn’t this feel nice?”

When she bit her lip, he gripped his cock, thumping the tip against her bud.

“Yes.” She writhed, her eyes glazed. “Don’t stop.”

He thrust against her pussy, making sure his shaft grazed her needy little pearl. Her dew lubricated the friction, and soon they were panting, straining against each other. He bucked his hips, reveling in the lewd, wet sounds made by his pistoning cock.

One of his favorite scenes flitted through his head. He hooked her knees over his shoulders, exposing more of her cunny. Gripping her bottom, he plowed her furrow with bestial abandon. She arched, coming again with a breathless cry that triggered his own release. He drove against her, exploding with a roar, mashing his balls against her pussy until every drop of pleasure was wrung from him.

Panting, he dropped his forehead to hers.

“Was that wicked enough for you?” he murmured.

Her impish smile was the stuff of fantasies.

“I suppose it was.” Brushing her lips against his jaw, she added in a whisper, “For now.”