She was both lost and happy.
“Please,” she said on a moan. “Please, please.” The word turned into a chant, into candied begging. She’d have added more, but she didn’t know what she wanted. What she was looking for.
“Here?” He petted those two fingers inside her sheath, tempting and teasing. He did magical things with those elegant fingers. His mouth was a wicked curve until he hid it against the turn of her neck. The drag of his teeth over her throat added layer over layer of feeling. “Here? More here? In this sweet cunt?”
The raw word made her jolt, wicked and hot. Still she agreed. “Yes. There. I want you there.”
“As it will be.” He took his fingers from her, sucking wet juices off each in slow succession. He surged up from the chaise, and good Christ in heaven, for a long, terrifying moment she thought he was done. Leaving her. Her hands spasmed on the cool wood. “Come on.”
He gathered her up in his arms. She was light as air and clouds, the way she’d always wanted to be. With her hands framed along the sides of his neck, she kissed him as he walked. He set her down across the wide expanse of her bed.
She folded up on her elbows. Her abrupt intake of breath was completely involuntary. For the first time, she could see the dense muscles that covered his chest and stretched down to his lean waist. A line of dark hair trailed from his navel, then widened to spread and circle his length. Full and erect, his member strained toward his taut stomach.
She ringed him with trembling fingers. “What do you call it?”
“Pardon? Do you think it separate than I?” He edged one knee up onto the bed, next to her hip. His smile was out to play again. “Should I have named it Richard?”
Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a joke in there somewhere, isn’t there? No. Tell me the word. I know penis, but that seems very bloodless.”
He grunted, and she couldn’t tell if it was some sort of regret or from the way she stroked over his satin-smooth skin. She let her thumb play and explore, rubbing a thicker ridge up the underside and across a delicate web beneath the swollen head. “No more.”
His hand over hers stilled those motions. He gripped her shoulder, and he tried gently to push her flat, but she wouldn’t go. “Not until you tell me. A woman ought to know what she has in her hand.”
“You’re about to have a lot more in your hand than you expected,” he said with a groan. “But it’s a cock. Or a prick or staff or dick.”
She gave it a small squeeze and liked the way he shoved into her hand. “I like cock. I like your cock, in particular.”
“Jesus, woman,” he couldn’t help but say. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry or to simply fuck her blind.
The third option. Easy choice.
Her mouth tasted like honey, and they traded her flavor back and forth. He wanted her warmth and her tightness. Their tongues played in abandon. Still she held on to his cock.
He didn’t mind because her small forays and delicate advances made him shudder as pleasure made him mindless.
Maybe this wasn’t right. Lottie was a woman of stature and out of Ian’s reach for any sort of long affair or relationship. But he wasn’t about to turn her down.
He’d be the insane one. More insane than her reckless mother ever seemed.
Holy Christ, he couldn’t believe they were doing this in Lottie’s home. Cold shock trickled down his spine. “Where’s your father?”
Her eyebrows flew upward. “Really? Here? Now you mention him?”
He shrugged, but then had to swallow down the clench in his throat when her grip tightened. “It’s a valid concern.”
“Why is that?”
Folding one arm behind her back, he levered her down. She went slowly, unwillingly, so he flipped them. If she wished to sit up, she could do it from atop him. She gave a small gasp, but then her lips bent into a ridiculously wicked smile.
Her hands flattened on his chest, below his ribs. God, that was good. She was his little vixen. She grinned down at him.
It seemed wrong all of a sudden that her hair was still up. He drew out each pin, one by one. Red locks tumbled around her shoulders. A long skein slipped over her skin and pooled at the edge of her pale blue corset. He framed her breasts through the material, then traced his touch up farther.
“I’m worried about your father’s proximity because I’d like to make you scream with pleasure. One could say it’s a goal of mine.” His gaze flicked back up to hers, and she’d never looked away from him. Her fingernails dug lightly into the center of his chest. Her pinkies scratched near his nipples. His hips jolted upward. His cock notched alongside his wet prize. So near. So bloody almost.
She must have liked that, because her eyes eased shut and her lips parted. “Goals are admirable.”
His hands coasted up the long length of her thighs. She was everything lean and gorgeous. Between her legs she was delicate and damp. Her lower lips spread over his cock, leaving him breathless. The tiny twist of her shoulders and twitch of her hips worked through his entire body.
They were together. Skin to skin. Any closer and he’d be inside her. His hands involuntarily clenched on her hips.
He couldn’t stop touching her. Skimming, long touches that took in the beauty that was her every movement. He didn’t want to stop. Why would he, when he had any such indulgence available to his whims? He rather thought he’d die of frustration if he couldn’t be inside her soon.
He wrenched her pink and blue corset down far enough for her breasts to rest above. With little tweaks and pets, he brushed over her nipples. Wet his fingers and rolled the berry-tight tips until she gasped.
He loved the way she kept smiling down on him. Between her moans and her gasps, her default mouth position was a smile. She’d more than enough happiness to share. “I’ve goals aplenty. Is it safe to demonstrate?” he asked.
She laughed enough that the feeling rolled from him to her, between her thighs and her soft quim and the hard length of his cock. So good. He pinched her nipples tighter.
“I promise it is,” she said on a breathy laugh. “He’s in the country. Still. Mother is drugged for the night. It’s safer that way. Being alone on this floor...” She leaned down, down, until her mouth hovered over his. Her lips skimmed a delicate touch at the base of his throat, but then she licked a luscious path along his flesh. Her head tucked under his chin. “I’ve danced naked in the moonlight and no one has ever known.”
He made some sound that was more breath and grunt than word, a full exhalation of air in order to make room for need. He could imagine her loveliness dancing in white-gold moonlight.
Indeed, when she eased back upward, she moved into a shaft of light that poured through the window. With her hands exploring the width of his chest, her eyes unfocused and her hair around her shoulders, she looked like a depraved goddess. Otherworldly.
“I’d have liked to see that.”
Her mouth curved into a wicked tease. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
Her hips slipped and stroked. His cock tucked naturally between her lower lips, seeking her moisture and heat. He held her hips too tight. In the morning, she’d have bruises on her pale skin. “We all do lots of things we shouldn’t.”
“And you? Am I something you shouldn’t do?” She always asked the immeasurably important questions in an intentionally casual tone. This one was tossed out into the space between them as lightly as a flower petal. But there was a hold to her spine that let him know she needed to know. That it mattered to her.
He pushed upward until he was sitting with her on his lap. He kept his grip on her hips, and his fingertips pushed under the material of her corset. Beneath, her skin was silk. She kept her gaze away from his, though he rather liked the way she was looking at his chest and shoulders.
They were chest to chest, but not quite. He finally regretted the corset between them. Nuzzling his mouth across the space behind her jaw, he let his words slide into the skeins of her hair. “Do you feel my hand
s on your back?”
She nodded. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she combed through his hair. The touch was soft. “Yes.”
“Do you feel how they shake?”
“I do.”
Even shaking, they were able to untie her corset. He moved slowly, so slowly that their breathing melded together. His hard cock rubbed between them, throbbing. Waiting. But silencing her fears was incredibly more important.
“That’s because of you. Because I’m afraid of ballocksing this up. And because I want you so bad that I almost feel as if I’m forgetting steps.”
“Forgetting steps? What does that mean?”
He pulled the corset away, and she was so very pretty that he thought he might lose track of where he was. There were long red lines in her stomach and her ribs where the seams had pressed into her. He traced two fingers up and down the lines. Lottie and Ian curved together and apart, a wave of movement.
He kissed the edge of her shoulder, the bone there covered with tissue-thin skin. So many contradictions caused her to become a lie in her own skin.
He wanted to find her truths. With every shiver and shudder and the muffled noises she made, he thought he might be getting closer. Or maybe he was getting closer to some fundamental truth about himself. He hardly knew.
“There’s a certain order to these kinds of proceedings. Steps that are usually followed.” Putting together a sentence was incredibly difficult with an armful of gorgeous womanhood.
“And we’re going about it all wrong?”
He skimmed down her sides, following bone by bone until he reached the taut line of her muscles. His thumbs met down her center and dipped into her navel to ring that shallow bowl. Then lower. He rubbed over her lips first, which added an extra layer of pleasure to the pressure across his cock. She gave a tiny mewl.
When he delved between to catch her clitoris, he took her mouth with his. He wanted to taste the noises pouring from her mouth to his. A promise he was doing well.
He kissed her jaw, her neck. Licked her earlobe into his mouth and caught that tender flesh between his teeth. The whole time he stroked and pulsed over her clitoris, that bit of sensation that made her writhe in his arms. She sank sharp nails into his back, and he grunted. He wanted that mean bite, that assurance.
“You tell me,” he finally said once he pulled his mouth from her skin. How hard it was to pull away that small amount. “Does it feel like we’re going about this wrong?”
She shook her head, resting her forehead against his shoulder as she gasped. “No. Not at all.”
“Some might think I’m being indulgent.” He punctuated his words with steady rhythm through her wetness. His fingers slipped and slid around his cock, and it was nowhere near what he wanted. “Some might think I should take you. Shove my cock in you. Here.” He ringed her entrance with two fingers.
Her mouth opened on his skin. Wet heat but nothing compared to what he dabbled in. “Not yet. Make me... Make me do what you did earlier.”
“You want to come? You want to wet my fingers and my cock with your body?”
“Please, Ian.” Her eyes were so wide. Tinged with a hint of vulnerability. But then her mouth quirked upward once again. “And then...” She paused to give a moan when he circled her with a particular stroke. “Then you’ll come inside me. Take me. Fuck me.”
He growled. Fondled her harder because by the sweet saints did he want that. He rubbed those same circles around her luscious flesh until her eyes went wider and she put her head back. He bit the column of her throat. Her white skin glowed in the moonlight and she came. Came so hard that she shivered and shook over him. Her voice scaled into a drawn-out moan that wasn’t near what he was willing to settle for. But it would do for now, until she came on his cock. As he’d promised, juice spilled out over his fingers and over his body where they pressed together.
He notched the head of his cock to her pussy. He wound his fingers through the silken, heavy mass of her hair and pushed her head up so that he could look her in the eyes. “Tell me you want me.”
She swallowed first. Her tongue slid across the corner of her mouth. “Ian, I want you more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone in my life.”
He took her. Or maybe she was taking him, because his cock slid into the soaking, tight clasp of her body. More than her body engulfed him. She felt right in a devious way. He had to drop his forehead to hers and hold his hips still. She was fire and ice.
Everything he hadn’t known how to hope for.
Chapter Sixteen
Lottie had expected giving up her virginity to be a faintly violent process. She’d heard all that business with losing and tearing and those other unpleasant attributes. But with Ian, there was only the slightest burn as the very tip of his cock entered her.
Then pleasure.
A fullness that she’d never dreamt of. Abrading friction that made no sense when contrasted with the liquid rush through her body. She’d nothing to stack this experience against. Nothing that measured up to the way she was transported. His grip on her back stroked and eased, then lowered down her spine, until his fingertips delved between the soft and vulnerable place at the top of her buttocks.
She shuddered, which only meant her body drew closer to his. They pressed together, his hardness to her soft, and between them sparked a power that rocked up her body to coil around her lungs and draw tight until she could hardly breathe.
“Good?” he said on a near whisper. His voice passed from his chest to hers in a rumble. A light thatch of hair across his chest rubbed softly over her nipples.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She shook her head and pulled away her hips, but he held her close with his grip tight on her flesh. “I don’t know.”
His smile tilted up in that left-side-only way. “That won’t do. Not at all.”
“It’s not that it’s bad.” And it wasn’t. It had good moments, when he pushed back into her body and all her air escaped her. “It’s just...confusing.”
“Is that right?”
She had the feeling he might have been laughing at her, and she particularly didn’t like that. But there wasn’t much she could do, not when he locked one arm low about her hips and flipped them. The room spun. Her head landed almost at the edge of the bed, and when she let her hands fly out for grip, she found only the bedclothes. She twisted her fingers in the blankets. “What are you doing?”
He wedged one arm up under her shoulder and across her back so that his fingertips curled over her other shoulder from behind. She was enveloped. Surrounded. His other hand went to her hip, angling her just so.
And oh, just so it was.
She gasped on his first thrust. Sparks lit her from within. Her head tilted back, and she looked up past the draped bed hangings to the window and the barely twinkling stars among the glowing haze that usually clung to London’s nights. This was...
Marvelous. She belonged among the stars. She ought to be a star, considering the severe and tingling pleasure that wracked out from her center and through her chest. Her toes curled. She moaned quiet and low, but so very long. Until she’d replaced her breath with more pleasure. More joy.
“There,” he said, and this time it was no question. She could practically hear a smug smile in his voice. “There, it’s exactly what you like. It’s better than good.”
“It is,” she agreed in a whisper. Her hands were still spread wide, and she wanted to touch him, but she was afraid to move. This was all perfect and good. He filled her and took away and gave again. So much heavy shoving became something more. Something wonderful.
“I like pleasing you, of course.”
She gave a little sound that was half laugh and half pleasured moan. “How can you talk at a time like this? Just...do.”
“I am.” He thrust hard with his hips, into her and out again, making a point of his words. “You know I am. You can feel it in that pretty, wet pussy of yours. The way I fuck you.”
Her
fingers flew to his mouth, as if to silence him. He grinned at her from behind those fingertips and good God, how that made her clench on his length. On his cock. The newly learned word echoed over and over again in her mind. “You shouldn’t say such things.”
“Really? Have I found wicked Lottie Vale’s limit?” His lips moved under her touch. Soft and wet, and that stupid, small thing of his mouth moving made her eyes drift shut on the feel of him. He slid his grip from the pinch on her hip up her side to hold her breast firm. He rubbed his thumb over the pink, tender tip. Another waterfall of joy rocked her from top to bottom. “You’ll say and do almost anything. You’ll beg me to take you. But if I talk about your pussy being filled with my cock? That’s too much?”
“You can’t,” she said, but she was breathy and it was good. More than good. The way he stroked into her, the way she thought she’d fly away on the waves.
He lowered his head to her ear. She was surrounded. Absorbed. Her knees hitched higher on his hips. “And you can’t lie to me, Lottie. I feel your cunt clench on my prick every time I talk so.”
Apparently she really was that depraved. The words set up a chain reaction inside her that led her to abandon. He stroked, and she pulled tight with every fiber of her until she thought she’d never breathe again. Within her was an absence. A feeling that she was waiting and hesitating, but then he’d come into her with a little more force. Plus he kept talking. Filthy, depraved things that blended into a grunted chain of there, sweets, fuck me, yes, harder.
And she was lost over the edge. Pleasure tingled down her lips. Echoed up through her chest. She pulled tight on his length, and it only amped the pleasure up higher. She was everything beautiful from the inside out. The way he slid over her, the soft blankets beneath and the gorgeous shine of his eyes as he watched her with rabid attention. She was seen. She was his.
For now.
He grunted when her body closed on him. “Fuck, Lottie,” he said, all breath and snarl. “You’re amazing. Your body. The way you hold me. The way you feel.” His words fell away on a mean growl. He stroked into her harder, grinding. His ruthless grip pinched.
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