Chapter 14 #2
He moved his tongue away and laid his head on her thigh to rest his neck. He slowly removed his finger. He kissed her maidenhair and the skin of her sweet cunt.
In the room, the only noise was that of his lips against her wetness and his breathing and hers.
“Oh,” she finally said.
“I stole your words,” he said and cursed himself. That was what he had chosen to say to her? He could hear how puffed-up he sounded. He was puffed-up.
“Yes.” Then, “There are no words.”
He came up beside her and was overcome with feeling when she immediately turned to him, touched his face, ran her fingers over his lips.
“There are words,” he said. “I think I heard Henry and please me at the end.”
But the joke he had made to cover his emotion caused her to duck her head. He put a hand to her face and lifted her chin.
“I like those words,” he said.
She still seemed unsure.
“May I have a kiss as reward?” he asked.
“Yes. But you may have more,” she said. “You can have anything you want. What do you want?”
“A kiss,” he said.
She kissed the tip of his nose very sweetly.
“Saucy minx,” he murmured.
“Startlingly,” she answered and kissed the corner of his jaw.
“Handsome.” She licked the shell of his ear. He growled.
“Gentleman.” She came to his mouth, and her kiss there was well worth waiting for.
She gave him back the kiss he had given her the night at the fête.
She was rapacious and messy, all tongue and lips and passion, and her hand went to his cock and stroked it with exactly the firm touch it was thirsting for.
He groaned into her mouth.
When the kiss was over, her hand did not leave his cock but continued to touch it, light fingertips brushing over the shaft and down to his scrotum and back to his shaft.
“Did you taste yourself on me?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the urge to put his hand over hers and force it up and down his cock again.
“Yes.”
She resumed her stroking of his cock—her tugging on his tallywag—and he nearly whimpered.
“Did you like it?” he said hoarsely as his cock shouted in glee.
“It was like reading my own books.” She paused the movement of her hand, and his cock screamed in agony. “You know. A disbelief. That’s me? I did that?”
Blessedly, her hand began to move again.
“No,” he said and grimaced in ecstasy and want. “I did that.”
“Yes.” She smiled. She stroked. Faster, firmer. “Yes, you did. Now, are you going to tell me what you want, or am I just going to enjoy this big, hard cock as I like?”
Those words. From her.
“I want to be inside you,” he got out.
“I want you to be inside me,” she answered.
Stroke, stroke, stroke.
Susannah wants me to fuck her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Oh, my God.
But he could not shift, get on top of her, get inside her because his cock would not let him remove it from the relentless heaven it had found in Susannah’s hand.
His hips rocked, his cock thrust and thrust and thrust, and he came harder than he had ever come in his life, his seed fountaining up and all over her hand and his belly and hers and the sheets beneath them.
“Oh,” she said.
He panted and winced, waves of pleasure still washing over him. Damn.
“Yes.”
She let go of his shaft. “I didn’t think, I thought, well, I had heard . . . I thought it would take longer. I’m sorry.”
“You thought I’d take longer?” He tried to make his voice light, to tease as she did. “But your charm has made me into a green boy again.”
“And that’s good?”
“That’s very good. So no more apologies.” He kissed her. “But I’m very sorry not to have been inside you tonight, Susannah.”
She was not a real enchantress. She hadn’t made him young enough to go twice in one night, and it was best to let her know his limits.
But there will be other nights, he promised himself.
She began to move, to get out of the bed.
He grabbed her arm, probably too roughly. “Where are you going?”
She blinked. “To get a cloth.”
“Stay.” He got out of the bed and went to his dressing room and wet a cloth at the basin there. He cleaned himself, wet another cloth, and brought it back to her.
He caught her licking her fingers. God, she was beautiful in his bed, her hair mostly out its plait and spread across the pillow.
“How do I taste?” he asked her.
She smacked her lips together softly, clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm. Like moonlight and marshmallow root.”
He gave her the cloth, and she wiped her hand and belly. He took the cloth from her and put it on a nearby table. The dressing room was too far. He got back into the bed.
She curled onto her side and gazed at him. He gazed back and moved a piece of her hair off of her face and put it behind her ear.
“You’re very far away,” he said.
“There’s a wet place.”
“Shove over,” he said and moved, lifting himself over the spot and onto her side of the bed. He lay down and wrapped his arms around her. Paradise.
“Should I go?” she said. She sounded worried again.
His eyes had already closed, and he was almost asleep. “You should stay,” he said.
You should stay forever.