“Offer yourself to me. No, keep your hands on the bedpost,” he murmured. “Arch your back and present your breast to my mouth.”
Although Livy had never swooned in her life, she thought there might be a chance of it now. She adored Ben’s imperious manner, which made her feel demure and daring at the same time. She wanted to do anything he asked of her. To worship him, this beautiful, complex man whose strength and vulnerability made him god-like in her eyes. The desire to please him was as urgent as the need to take her next breath.
Her gaze on his, she arched her back, thrusting her breast toward his lips. When she couldn’t quite get the burgeoned tip to his mouth, she stood on tiptoe, holding onto the bedpost for balance. The weeks of training with Charlie paid off in an unexpected way; although her muscles trembled under the strain of the pose, she was strong and flexible, managing to touch her nipple to his waiting lips.
He rewarded her with a proprietary kiss on the sensitive bud, the brief swirl of his tongue threatening her ability to maintain her posture. Her knees wobbled as he placed a gentle kiss on the other nipple.
“Such a good girl. You may relax.” The warmth in his gaze washed through her, and she sagged against the pole. “Since you asked for my kiss so nicely, you shall have it.”
Then his mouth was on her breast, and pleasure consumed her. Who knew that it would feel this good to be suckled here? He did things with his tongue that forced whimpers from her throat. When he drew on her nipple, she felt a corresponding tug in her pussy, a gush of honeyed heat between her thighs. He switched to her other breast, going back and forth until she was writhing against the wood.
She was so lost in the sensations that it took her a moment to realize that his kisses were migrating downward, his tongue tracing over her ribs. Her hips bucked when he drew a circle around her navel. He kept going, his lips traversing her quivering abdomen and then…
Going down on one knee, he planted his hands on the insides of her thighs, pushing them apart. Her breathing grew fitful as he studied her sex. He was examining a part of her that she, herself, hadn’t really looked at. Yet there he was, scrutinizing her as if she were on the block at Tattersalls, and she didn’t know why it aroused her. When he parted her with his thumbs, she felt faint with mortification and need.
“How pretty you are.” His gaze consumed her. Then he leaned forward, and she cried out at the hot swipe of his tongue along her private cleft. “And even sweeter than I remembered. I am going to want more of this pussy, most definitely. Slide your leg over my shoulder.”
Helpless to his command, she did as he bade, resting her knee on his broad shoulder. The flexing bulge of his deltoid muscle pushed against the back of her knee, the rough silk of his hair brushing her inner thighs. His breath gusted warmly against her quivering pussy. She squirmed against the wooden pole when he inhaled deeply, his eyelids growing heavy.
“You remind me of a peach,” he rasped. “Juicy and ripe.”
He licked her again, this time long and slow. Pleasure obliterated her thoughts as he feasted on her as if she were a delectable morsel. Gripping her bottom, he kept her spread for his masterful devouring. Swirls and flicks, hard sucks and forceful thrusts of his tongue took her to her peak. When he laved her pearl with rough, demanding strokes, she shattered. Ecstasy melted her bones, and she would have collapsed had he not been supporting her, holding her steady, his mouth tenderly coaxing out every blissful spasm.
He rose then, towering over her like some god of carnality. When he dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, it came away wet with her excesses. His eyes on hers, he stripped off his frock coat. The fact that he was still dressed while she was naked and panting from her climax sent an illicit thrill through her…as did the prominent ridge at the front of his trousers.
“You may let go of the bedpost,” he said.
She hadn’t realized that she was still holding on. Even in the depths of passion, she had followed his sensual command. It pleased her, and she could tell it pleased him too when she let go of the wood, stretching her arms this way and that. He ran his hands along her shoulders, and she moaned as he expertly massaged out the knots.
“Are you sore, sweeting?” he murmured.
“Quite the opposite,” she assured him. “I feel rather limber.”
His lips twitched. “Then on your knees, little queen.”
She complied with unladylike haste. Then again, she didn’t have to be a lady with Ben, and the freedom was exhilarating.
From her position at his feet, she watched him undress and felt like she had the best box in the theatre. She greedily took in his flexing shoulders and the delineated blocks of his chest. Dark hair was sprinkled over his taut skin, a trail bisecting the stacked muscles of his torso. He was a man in his prime, and she could hardly believe that he was all hers. When his long fingers went to the waistband of his trousers, her pulse kicked up a notch.
Was he going to show her his manhood…finally? She’d only had a glimpse of it that time she’d spied on him in the stables. Having felt the thick ridge pressed up against her, she was dying to see it. The other example she’d seen—brandished at her
