Chapter 27 #2
She thought about it and said, “Do not stop.”
He kissed her lips lightly. “Thank you for being honest.” Then he kissed the top of her breast and she gasped.
“Your desires are important.” He dragged his scruff across her skin to the other breast, and then down, closer, closer, and then gently bit her where the skin changed color—but not at the tip of her breast. She writhed in frustration as he repeated the action with the other breast, then began circling her with his tongue, expertly avoiding the exact place she wanted his mouth.
Her hands flexed helplessly at her side and her teeth sank hard into her lip, and just when she thought she could take no more, he sucked one tip into his mouth.
Pleasure streaked from her breast to her core, and her knees wobbled.
She gasped as he suckled her, palming her free breast with his other hand, pinching and shaping and handling her with alternating touches of aggression and tenderness that overwhelmed her with an onslaught of sensation.
He released her nipple with a pop and shifted to the other breast. Her legs were shaking so hard that she was afraid she might embarrass herself by collapsing, but then his arm snaked around her waist and held her tight.
He lifted his head, a curl falling across his forehead, his lips wet and his eyes feverish.
“You are unsteady.”
“I—”
“I do not want you to fall,” he interrupted, a wicked glint in his eye. He lifted her by the waist and she gave a little squawk of surprise as he plunked her bottom on top of the table. Sitting like this, her face was even with his, and she grinned.
“This must be what it is like to be your height.”
He returned her smile, and then pressed his palm to her belly and gently nudged her backward, so that she was looking up at the ceiling and her bottom was on the edge of the table.
She was about to ask what he was doing, when his hands wrapped around her bare ankles and dragged upward, bringing her nightgown with them.
She was equal parts horrified and thrilled when he flipped the hem over her knees, tracing his knuckles over her calf and up to her knee, then back down to her ankle and up again.
“Your legs,” he groaned. “It is clear you partake in exercise.” As he spoke, his hand drifted higher up the inside of her thigh, and back down again. “Do you spend a lot of time in the saddle as well?”
“I—” She choked on her response when his hand drifted higher again. Why was he distracting her with talk of riding? This time his fingers slid all the way up her inner thigh, and when she glanced down, she was grateful her gown was still covering her most intimate part.
“Answer me, Sunshine.”
“What was the question?”
“Do you like to ride?” He smirked when he asked it, but she did not have a chance to ask him if there was secondary meaning to the question, because his fingertips brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs and she jolted.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the smirk disappearing.
“No!”
He lightly traced his fingers through her folds.
Ivy thought she was going to die, either from pleasure or humiliation, she was not sure.
Was she supposed to be that wet? It was not as if anyone had ever talked to her about such things.
Then she thought of someone she could ask.
Someone who did not balk at answering intimate questions. “Is it normal to be… like this?”
“Yes,” Owen answered matter-of-factly, knowing exactly what she meant.
There was no shock, no censure, no amusement in his tone.
“It means I am doing my job. It is a man’s duty to pleasure his partner so that her body produces lubrication.
” It was almost clinical the way he spoke, in sharp contrast to the sweep of his fingers gliding through her.
“It helps facilitate mating. It is important biologically. And it makes men bloody wild,” he added, briefly grazing the nub at the top of her thighs, the one that she touched when alone in bed.
She gasped. “Then it is all right?”
“It is more than all right. Your body is responding perfectly, love.” He traced his fingertips over that spot again, this time with slightly more pressure.
“Owen!” she cried, wriggling against the binds of her nightgown.
He paused, his fingertips pressed against her and yet unmoving. “Yes, Sunshine?”
“Why did you stop?”
He withdrew his touch, and she groaned in frustration, but a moment later she felt him at her entrance, and then the slightest twinge of discomfort when he slowly pressed a large finger inside her.
The rasp of his finger against her sensitive tissues was enough to send her hips bucking up from the table.
She had never been penetrated before, and when his finger slid out and then in again, she lost all rational thought.
The house could have burned down around her and she would not have been able to focus on anything other than the feeling of Owen inside of her, and the way he was staring down at her face, his cheeks flushed, as if she were the goddess of all humanity.
He continued his slow assault on her senses, and then his thumb found that spot again and she was spinning up, up, and—
Owen withdrew, and Ivy clenched her fists, fighting back a howl of anger.
She was so desperate for relief that when he lifted her nightgown around her waist she did not even care.
His palms pressed on both of her inner thighs, spreading her wide like a banquet displayed on the table, and the look on his face was one of such worship that she could not find it within her to be embarrassed at what he must be seeing.
“I want to taste you.”
“You… is that done?”
“Yes.”
She knew she was going to say yes. Besides frustrating her, Owen had not disappointed her body yet. And the way he had answered her earlier question, so patiently, so comfortably… If she was going to allow anyone to be so intimate with her, it would be this man.
“All right,” she breathed.
He gave her another moment to change her mind, and then he buried his face between her thighs.
His tongue slid across her with a long, firm stroke, and Ivy came up off the table in shock.
With one hand on her belly, he pressed her back down, and then he was feasting on her.
Licking and swirling, rubbing and lapping, until she was pushing up against his face and whimpering without any thought to what was coming from her mouth.
He slid his finger back inside her and gently sucked that sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth.
She was on the edge when he said severely, “Climax.”
The command sent her shattering into a thousand pieces. Ivy cried out as she writhed against him, her thighs clenching until she went entirely lax on the table.
She was still seeing stars when he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and left her so he could stand by the door. All remained silent, and she was just beginning to feel self-conscious, still splayed out on the table and unable to move her arms, when he returned and grinned down at her.
“Bloody perfect, Ivy. I knew you were going to be brilliant.”
She warmed at his praise, even as he traced a finger over her wet heat. “That was a good start.”
“Start?”
He slid a single finger into her, and then, since her release had made her so wet and pliable, he easily added a second, stretching and scissoring against her swollen tissues. “We can stop whenever you desire.”
“I do not understand. How often is one supposed to…” Her question trailed off on a moan as he slowly began curling his fingers.
“It depends,” he answered honestly. “Once is usually considered sufficient.”
“So then why…”
He flushed then, even as his thumb very carefully touched her swollen bud. “I have always had different desires than my peers. Combined with giving orders, it greatly pleases me to bring my partner to her crest over and over again, until she physically no longer can.”
Ivy gaped at him.
“But we do not have to do that,” he added quickly, withdrawing from her. “That was perfect as it was.”
“No, wait.” Did he truly think she would not want to experience that again? “It is that it does not seem fair. That you are left without pleasure.”
“Trust me,” he said, his eyes darkening, “I receive plenty from it.”
“You did not hear anyone?”
“The house is silent.”
“Release my arms.”
He obliged, pulling her gown down so that it pooled around her waist. She sat up and knew she looked like a trembling, wanton mess. “I would like to do it again,” she said shyly. “If you truly want to.”
He grabbed her face and kissed her deeply as he dragged her off the table, until her feet touched the ground. Then he said, “Sit down on the chair and part your legs.”
She complied, making sure her gown covered her bottom even as he immediately rucked it up over her legs and knelt between her thighs. “Remember our deal when I was ill?”
She nodded.
“Let us make another one. I will give you anything you want if you find your peak three times tonight.”
“Three?”
He frowned. “I thought I would make it an easy number, since it is your first time.”
She stared at him. “And if I do not?”
“Then I shall be disappointed in myself, but never you.”
“How is that a deal that benefits you?”
But he was already ducking between her legs, and suddenly it no longer mattered.