Holding her arms just above the elbows so as to prevent her movement, he lowered his head, lightly brushing his nose and lips against her temple, her ear.
She shivered, taking pleasure from that barest touch.
He exhaled and nuzzled her cheek and neck, leaving a path of heated breath and friction on her skin, one that ended at her breasts. She still wore her short stays over her chemise. The undergarment lifted her breasts, displaying them as if for a feast. She sighed. Exhaled. For feast Claxton did.
Legs bent and openmouthed, he explored her breasts, dampening the fine lawn that covered her skin with his heated breath. Exploring the plump underside and the crevice between. At last he took an erect tip in his mouth. Her eyes rolled back and she sighed, her legs instantly weak.
Oh, but then he
“Claxton,” she cried, her hips bucking off the wall.
He held her there, unrelenting, as with his teeth he tugged the lace edge of her chemise low, until one breast popped free.
“Very nice,” he murmured, his breath tantalizing the nipple.
“I told you before, I don’t…need to be seduced.”
“You’ve made that perfectly clear,” he murmured against her skin. “So I suppose it’s not necessary to say you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…even though you are.” His heated gaze met hers, and he worshipped her with his hands. “And I won’t tell you that the first time I saw you I knew…I knew…there would never be anyone else.”
Lips parted, she whispered, “Claxton—”
“Instead I’ll do my best within the boundaries you yourself laid out.” His hands skimmed down the length of her torso to her hips, which he planted firmly against him, before seizing her arms again.
“Very well.” She gasped, feeling the distinct outline of his member against her belly. “If you must.”
“As I recall,” he whispered near her ear. “Neither was there an edict against licking.”
Oh yes. Licking.
“Ah…correct.” She sighed.
His head swooped again, this time to her bare breast, his tongue licking up from the underside to encircle and lave her nipple. His unshaven jaw abraded her skin. She watched, transfixed, until she could bear it no longer. She needed completion now or she would go mad.
“Claxton, I’m ready.”
“No, you’re not.” He chuckled. “Not just yet.”
Oh, but she was. She knew what body parts went where, and she was ready for
“And biting,” he murmured. “Not forbidden.”
She whimpered when he sank to his knees, releasing her arms at last. He shoved the hem of her chemise above her waist, exposing her. With his teeth, he nipped the sensitive skin at her waist, her hip, and her thigh, sending off little shocks of sensation along her spine. She moaned, half-senseless. Such an indelicate response, but she could not help herself. Refusing still to touch him, she pressed the flats of her hands against the wall. Reached to grip the drapery. Thrust her fingers into her hair.
With a curse, he unfastened his breeches. No drawers encumbered him, and his member sprang free, magnificently aroused.
His hands swept up her legs, again lifting her chemise, rubbing her thighs, urging them apart until at last, his hand was
“Claxton, please,” she cried. “I can’t bear it.” Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. Her legs almost failed her. “Oh, my, that’s sucking again.”
“You smell good,” he murmured. “Taste so divine. Sweet. Better than sugar. I knew you would. Mere observations of fact, of course, naught to do with romance.”
In the next moment, the room spun around her, he carrying her to the bed, where he dragged her chemise up her body and off, leaving her naked.
He’d been playing with her before, but now a different expression ruled his countenance, one of controlled reverence.
“Are you cold?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” She shivered, crossing her arms over her breasts, miserable without his touch, conscious of his gaze always on her body. He did not deny her long. Divesting himself of boots and breeches, he joined her, stretching across her, pulling a blanket over them both.
Surrounded by shadows and firelight flickering on the bed hangings, they seemed in a place removed from the rest of the world. A haven of warmth, linen, and naked skin. She lay beneath him, half-drunk in anticipation. She remembered how he would feel inside her and knew she would cry out from the pleasure.
He lifted her hair, fanning it out over the pillow.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Like chocolate silk.”
He disappeared beneath the blanket, suckling her breasts and spreading her thighs to again taste her there, squeezing the swollen part of her with his hands and mouth. He’d never kissed her there before. Made love to her in this way. She hadn’t known such sensations were possible.
Stretching, she gripped the headboard. She felt languid and beautiful. Like a wicked goddess, taking pleasure at the hands of her immortal lover.
When his tongue went suddenly deep and flat, massaging the most intimate part of her with quick, rhythmic thrusts, she felt herself slipping into a sort of delirium. Forgetting her own promise not to touch, she grasped his head, fingers staving through his hair.
“Claxton, I want—”
She couldn’t say it. She’d never been one to speak her desires aloud.
“Please,” she begged, awash with a sudden fever. She lifted her hips, seeking. “I need—”
Suddenly, he was there, massive and strong, his breath on her cheek. His sex lay between them, pressed into her stomach, as large and pleasing as she remembered.
“Tell me, Sophia. Tell me what you need.”
He lifted his weight from her and readjusted so that he nestled against her more intimately. She gripped his arms.
“I need this,” she said.
“Show me,” he murmured.
She had to. She couldn’t wait. She’d never touched him so brazenly, but she did so now. She gripped him, savoring the hot, velvet-over-steel texture of his member against her palm. She guided him until she felt him against her entrance, a sudden, probing pressure.
He shifted, cupped her buttocks, and entered her several inches.
She gasped.
“Oh, God.” His arms came round her, his face stark and tortured, and his eyes glazed. “Just let me—” He moved, pressing further inside her. She forced herself to hold still, not to scream. Her body for so long unused to such invasion cried out in pleasure and discomfort. He let out an agonized groan. “I can’t
His hands crushed in her hair. His lips pressed against the corner of her mouth, tentative, a passionate request for her permission.
“Please,” he said.
That he would take her body so unapologetically, but beg for the kiss she’d so pettishly withheld broke one of the bars she’d installed around her heart and she relented.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
His mouth captured hers, his lips and tongue claiming her with such fervor, she could hardly breathe. With a growl, he eased even deeper inside her. She arched against him, all discomfort slipping away.
