Chapter Seven #2
He fixed his mouth to the delicate skin of her nape and nuzzled her, nipped. She shivered and moaned. She tipped her head to the side to enhance his access. Her nails dug into his flesh. She clutched him closer. “Yes.” A breath. “Yes.”
Fire flared in his brain as she arched into him, rubbing against his straining cock. God, she was responsive. Warm. Willing. And here. In his arms.
Violet.
He shook as he worked the buttons of her frock. He opened them to reveal her breasts and his breath stalled.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Exquisite alabaster swells tipped with rosy pink buds.
Her nipples were puckered, pouting. No force in the world could have stopped him from tasting them.
He drew one into his mouth, groaning in delight.
He couldn’t bear to release her but he had to try the other.
Back and forth he moved, suckling one tip and then the other; they swelled, tightened, ruched.
When he grazed one with his teeth and tugged, she wailed and fisted his hair and held him there. “God,” she growled. “Ewan. Yes.”
He would have responded but he was incapable of forming words. His tongue was busy, his mind bereft of cogent thought.
Well, one cogent thought echoed in his brainpan.
One thought, one urge, one burning need.
He yanked up her skirts, trailing his palm along a velvet thigh. Her lips parted as she realized his intentions, but she did not protest.
His heart leapt into his throat and swelled, near choking him with anticipation.
She did not protest.
Everything within him seized when he found her core. The tuft of silky curls. The warm, sleek entrance to heaven. Everything seized because she was wet. Slick. Ready.
His body pulsed with the force of his heartbeat.
He stroked her lightly. She mewled and shook. His fingers trembled as he pressed them deeper, found her pearl, that tight knot of nerves, that hard little bundle at the crux of her being.
“Ah.” Her lashes fluttered. Her lips parted. Sweet awe transfixed her features. He dabbed at her clitoris, circled it, teased until she began to pant and squirm.
“Do you like this?” A hoarse whisper, words forced through clenched teeth.
“Yes. Please.”
“Och, I’ll please you, sweeting.” He doubled his efforts, dipping his head and tormenting her nipples at the same time.
Her frenzy rose, and then it broke. She went rigid then devolved into a series of shudders and gasps and frantic wails, bathing him with her warmth.
Good God, she was exquisite in her pleasure. Her head thrown back, her eyes misted over, her lips parted on a whispery sigh. He could stare at her forever. Forever. Until the end of the world.
But he couldn’t.
Need was upon him, and riding him hard. He fumbled with the ties of his braes, yanked them down, fisted his cock and set it in place. Her dampness kissed him and he sucked in a breath. Anticipation clawed at him. Hunger raged.
He nudged her, touched her hymen. A thought flickered in his brain, the notion that he shouldn’t take her, shouldn’t despoil her, shouldn’t steal her virginity. But he discarded it quickly as absolute lunacy.
This was Violet. He’d wanted her, wanted this, his entire life.
Ewan St. Andrews McCloud was a man who took what he wanted—and God help him, he wanted her. He would have her.
He thrust his hips, sinking in, sinking deep.
Her body engulfed him in a hot, slick, tight embrace. Sensation scored him. Ripples coursed through his body, a bliss so sublime he could no longer think. No longer breathe. No longer see or hear or feel anything...anything but her.
Their gazes locked. In her eyes, he saw it. Saw her pleasure, her delight. Her adoration.
He’d never realized how much he’d missed that. Never recognized the hole its loss had carved in his soul. While he was in her, with her like this, he felt suddenly complete once more.
Every tear he’d ever shed, every sacrifice, every loss was washed away by the flood of emotion she evoked, the flood of desire their linked bodies created.
She writhed beneath him. Her arcane folds rippled around him in agonizing waves. Sanity fled.
He yanked out. She gasped, then the gasp became a deep moan as he plunged back in. Again and again, from this angle and that. He found the spot, the one that made her quiver and quake, and he worked it, barraging her with thrust after thrust after thrust of hard, hot passion.
He knew when she came again. Her body tightened, an excruciating hold. She panted and cried out and a warm wash coated his aching cock, easing his passage.
A frantic fervor possessed him. A burning, boiling need for release. For possession. Complete possession. As he worked her, coaxing her to the edge of bliss once more, his tension rose to an unbearable peak.
She lifted her knees, clasped his hips. Grunted and begged and quaked under the weight of every plunge. It drove him wild that she was right there with him, wrapped in rapture, urging him on, weeping for more.
His pace increased. Shorter, harder, deeper. He felt his crest, his completion, burning in his balls, coiling at the base of his cock.
Need blurred his vision. A need so raw, so feral, so bestial he could barely contain it. He dipped his head and captured her nipple. She cried out, came around him, clamping his cock in a vise—a vise of pleasure.
He crested.
Sucking in a lungful of much-needed air, he exploded. His seed erupted into her waiting womb in a hot, desperate flood. Wave after wave of seething delight scorched him, burning him to the core.
And then a peace, unlike anything he’d ever known, rushed in to fill the void. It welled up within him and bubbled into his soul, saturating him with an unspeakable serenity. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment.
It was the sweetest moment of his life.
And it was all because of her.
Violet.