Touch Me

“That’s good to know. And quite obvious.” One hand came forward to stroke the length of his erection.

Simon sucked in a harsh breath, one that locked in his throat when he felt her opening his breeches. Her hands slipped beneath the buckskin and his smalls, slowly dragging both over his hips then down his legs, and he was eternally grateful he’d removed his boots and stockings earlier so few obstacles impeded her disrobing him. He stepped out of the garments and nudged them aside with his bare foot. Then he waited, utterly still, naked except for the satin ribbon binding his hands, and harder than he’d ever been in his entire life. His every muscle tensed in an agony of anticipation.

“Oh, my,” she murmured. “This is indeed a problem. An enormous problem.”

Bloody hell, she had no idea. And if she didn’t touch him soon, he was going to-

The first stroke of her fingers over his erection erased every thought from his mind and he released his pent-up breath on a long hiss of pleasure. She wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed and he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to thrust into her hand. “You cannot imagine how good that feels.”

“On the contrary, thanks to the way you touched me at the spring, I know precisely how good it feels.”

She stroked him slowly, her fingers relentless, caressing his length then circling the head. He strained against his bindings, and unable to help himself, he rolled his hips, pressing himself into her palm.

She leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. “You’re supposed to remain still.”

He wanted to assure her he was trying, but she robbed him of his ability to speak when she eased one hand between his legs to cup him. With a growl of approval he widened his stance and dropped his head back. And tried his damnedest not to move.

Bloody hell, her hands were pure magic, conjuring sensations that threatened to bring him to his knees. Just when he thought he couldn’t take another stroke, she released him and trailed her fingers over his abdomen.

He dragged in a shuddering breath and fought for control. “I’m a heartbeat away from unraveling.”

Her finger slowly circled his navel. “Somehow that doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

“It’s not. It’s a promise-for retribution.”

“You mean like an eye for an eye?”

“No. I mean a stroke for a stroke. A caress for a caress. A kiss for a kiss. A lick for a lick.”

“So you intend to give as good as you get?”

“The instant you untie me and release me from my promise to remain still.”

She wrapped her fingers around him again and lightly stroked. “You’re doing extremely well at remaining immobile.”

“Ahhhhh…the effort is costing me, believe me. I’m not certain how much more I can take.”

“Let’s find out.” With that, she leaned in and slowly kissed her way down his torso. Her warm breath tickled his skin, igniting fires, while her fingers lightly caressed his spine. She moved lower, her lips and tongue drifting over him, exploring his navel, then lower, touching him everywhere except where he most wanted. By the time she dropped to her knees, his breathing had turned into a series of ragged pants and his fingers were numb from clenching them so tightly.

He felt her touch a single fingertip to the head of his jutting cock. “You’re wet,” she whispered, spreading the moisture with a lazy circular motion.

He cleared his throat to locate his voice. “It’s only by sheer will that I’m not wetter-”

His words were chopped off when she leaned forward and treated the length of his erection to a long, slow lick. Simon’s jaw clenched and he fought for control as she grasped his shaft and teased the sensitive head with swirling strokes of her tongue.

“You’re driving me…ahhhh…mad,” he managed to utter in a hoarse voice.

“Mad in a good way, I hope.”

“Again, good is a very lukewarm description.”

“Then let’s try for incredible,” she whispered and drew him deep into her mouth.

Tight wet heat surrounded him, ripping a growl from his throat. Inwardly cursing the darkness that obscured his view, he closed his eyes and imagined the sight of her plump lips surrounding him, moving over him. White-hot pleasure sliced through him, every sensation somehow rendered even more intense by the fact that he couldn’t touch her in return. Her tongue circled him, shooting fire through him, gathering heat in the base of his spine. The combination of her swirling tongue, her mouth milking him, and her fingers fondling and stroking between his legs and over his buttocks quickly propelled him to the edge and all too soon he teetered on the brink of release.

Her lips tightened around him, drawing on him so tightly he swore he was going to implode.

“No more,” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d swallowed gravel. “Can’t take anymore.” With a hard jerk and twist of his wrists he broke free of his satin restraints. Grasping her shoulders he gently pushed her back until she released him. He was a single touch away from coming, and he wanted to be inside her, feel her body clamped around him when he climaxed.

He urged her to her feet, lifted her night rail over her head and tossed the garment aside. Again cursing the darkness that hid her from him, he skimmed his hands over her warm, soft flesh and discovered she wore nothing else save skin. His hands, normally so steady, felt decidedly shaky, certainly too much so to contend with tiny buttons and layers of clothing. Bending his knees, he scooped her up and strode to the bed.

“I wasn’t quite finished pleasuring you,” she murmured, lightly biting his neck.

“If I were any more pleasured, I’d be finished. So now it’s your turn. Turnabout is only fair.” He set her on the edge of the bed then knelt on the floor, his shoulders splaying her thighs wide. Her scent, an intoxicating combination of roses and female musk hit him like a shot of straight brandy to an empty stomach. He ran one hand up her body, easing her onto her back then reached out to trail a single fingertip along the seam of her sex, eliciting a groan from both of them. Bloody hell, she was drenched. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s wet,” he said, teasing her with a light, circular motion.

“Since the moment I first saw you,” she whispered. “And as a Modern Woman I insist you do something about it. Immediately.”

He slipped two fingers inside her tight heat. “You, my dear, are extremely demanding.”

She writhed against his hand and groaned. “Yes, I am. Do you truly wish to complain about that?”

“Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, naked, wet and demanding is the perfect combination of traits. Long live Today’s Modern Woman. And retribution.”

He eased his fingers from her and a dark smile curved his lips at her mewl of protest, a sound that turned into a gasp when he slid his hands beneath her bottom, set her thighs over his shoulders and lifted her to his mouth.

His lips, tongue and fingers teased her folds, swirling, tasting, nibbling, licking, delving while he absorbed her moans, relentlessly coaxing her toward release, determined to give her as much pleasure as she’d given him. When she climaxed, she arched her back and cried out his name in a hoarse voice that echoed through him.

The instant her spasms tapered off, he rose and lifted her, settling her head on his pillow. Unable to wait another instant, he covered her body with his and entered her with one smooth thrust. Her slick walls held him like a velvet fist and for several seconds he remained still, his eyes shut, absorbing the incredible feel of her.

“Tight,” he murmured against her mouth. He withdrew nearly all the way out of her body then slowly sank deep again. “Wet. Soft. Hot.” Withdrawal and another slow, deep plunge. “You feel so damn good.”

She released a long, guttural moan and wrapped her legs around his waist. “More,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders. “More.”

That impatient, husky demand incinerated whatever remnants of control Simon had managed to hold on to. He increased the tempo and force of his thrusts. Mindless, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pleasure, he sank into her again and again, lost in a dark, fiery abyss where nothing existed except her. The instant she arched beneath him he let himself go, thrusting deep, her silky sheath convulsing around him as shudders wracked him. When the spasms subsided, he buried his face in the fragrant curve where her neck and shoulder met and fought to catch his breath.

Bloody hell, how was it possible to feel so completely wrung out, yet so…reborn? Better than reborn. He felt… new. Like tarnished silver that had been polished after decades of neglect. He’d enjoyed his fair share of lovers in the past, experienced women who knew how to please a man and receive pleasure in return. But something about this woman left him satisfied in a way he’d never felt before.