But when the leg he wasn’t holding curved behind his thighs to bring him intimately closer, deeper—
Thoughts scattered.
Overridden by the sight of her hands delving between her thighs, stroking up his shaft, coaxing him to enter. Eclipsed by the urgency her touch conveyed.
Her lilting cries gave him the strength to advance slowly and then she was killing him, the walls of her sheath opening with such exquisite reluctance as he forged deep, then deeper still, her passage closing in around him and clasping so tight, damned if he didn’t spend before ever lodging the full way inside. Before ever pumping out a single stroke.
Damned if skill and experience didn’t flee as his cock tunneled inside her rippling sheath with a series of short, clumsy paroxysms that left him gasping for breath—and his balance.
The orgasm tore through him unlike any other.
Tensing his ballocks and his neck as Thea’s bawdy bits tightened like a vise, squeezing his cock, his heart, and every other part a man thought were his.
Leaving Daniel gasping and shaking—and wanting to tup her all over again.
4
Oh, To Be an Ass
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are.
William Shakespeare, Othello
“Oh my,” she said when Daniel eased, regretfully, reluctantly, out of the snug haven of her body in stunned, stupefied silence. “Is that all?”
How could he have blasted off so precipitously?
Daniel looked at his recalcitrant cock. Still stiff. Still erect though totally spent. Still primed for more though unmistakable proof of its unruly tendencies filled the reservoir.
Damn me.
Not since first partaking of the sins of the flesh had he stayed so achingly solid after such a powerful ejaculation.
Damn me, he thought again, unsure how to react. The muscles of his legs quivered until he locked them in place. Ground his heels to the floor. He’d be damned in truth before he lost his footing, fainted to the floor like a fribble.
“All right then.” At his lack of response (he was still staring at his flabbergasting phallus—until her disappointed sigh pulled his head up), Thea hugged a pillow to her breasts. She was visibly shaking—and not at all satisfied he knew. Thanks to his impudent penis.
“Well,” she said with false brightness, “that was, um…intense.”
Intense? That was how she described their first time together? Not exceptional or pleasing or exceptionally pleasing or—
He must’ve scowled.
For she immediately added, “Memorably intense. Which is a good thing, I vow.” Her gaze drifted to his chest and a hint of color flooded her cheeks. “Wonderfully intense, to be perfectly clear. Much, much better than uninspired or uninteresting or…lethargic.”
Lethargic? That lummox she’d been married to, no doubt. The man obviously didn’t know how to appreciate a woman, even had she been glued to his prick.
Anything but lethargic herself, while holding tight to the pillow with one arm, Thea scrambled for the sheet with the other, giving every indication of jumping from the bed and retreating to her personal chamber.
Time to make something clear.
“Thea?” His voice was gravel but it had the desired effect. Her motions halted. She sank back onto the mattress, still choking that pillow.
She blinked up at him. “Aye?”
“Think you we’re finished for the night?”
“We’re not?” A hint of confusion came into her eyes before she caught on and a quick smile curved her lips. “We’re not. Oh, good.”
Aye. He intended for it to be very good.
As though she read his thoughts, her mossy gaze fairly sparkled. She released her hold on the pillow. Angling her elbows behind her, she propped herself up and asked brightly, “May I inquire what’s next?”
Chuckling over her undisguised relief, he tore off the soiled machine and retrieved another. No time to wash the blasted device now. Not when his lady lust lay waiting.
What was next? she asked. Let him number the things…
Fascinated by the intimate sight, Thea watched Lord Tremayne exchange the used preventative for another. It looked innocuous enough, simply a thin, flesh-colored membrane topped with trailing ribbons. What she knew of the popular machines was garnered from the street hawkers who extolled their various virtues. (“Won’t chafe ye partner nor make ye pecker burn!” or “Jumbo superfines, right ’ere, milords! Best armor yer coinage can buy!” and “The finest machinery in London! Double scraped and rinsed thrice! Sold by the fives.”) But hearing about them paled upon seeing one up close.
Seeing Lord Tremayne’s personal parts up close.
Seeing him cloak his erect shaft with the device, and so soon after she’d touched the sides of it, after having it in her—if for so short a time—brought all the passion and pressure and persistent ache plaguing her loins storming to the surface.
He muttered something like, “Damn me…not supposed to lose my mettle like that,” while wrestling with the scarlet ribbon weaved around the opening. His self-directed flagellation made her smile, but she was too enraptured watching the sway of his ballocks, the crisp hair of his groin, the thick erection he handled with such ease, to respond.
Shoving the pillow to the side, she scooted around to recline on the bed properly, with her head near the headboard, where she waited for him to join her.
The room was warm and her body on fire, so she was surprised to see gooseflesh pimpling her skin. Perhaps that was simply a result of lying full-out on a bed—naked as a loon—waiting for her lover to join her and feeling no shame at all. (Well, such a small amount of shame that it was practically nil.) What a marvelous concept.
Finished with his task, the ribbon tied in a surprisingly adept bow, he approached the side of the bed where she waited. Instead of joining her, he stood surveying her, one fisted hand on his hip, the other cupped around his generous, aroused anatomy.
“Thea.” Actually, he stood grinning down at her. Incongruous, given the swelling surrounding his right eye, the deepening bruises on his ribs.
Her heart gave a flutter
