Chapter Forty-two
Taking three long strides, Angus lowered them gently to the bed, one hand capturing her wrists above her head, the other gliding up the silken curve of her outer thigh.
His eyes followed the movement of his hand, marvelling at the warmth of her skin, the weight of her breast as it moulded perfectly to his palm.
He watched, transfixed, as her body responded to his touch — a quiver, a soft sigh.
Dipping his head, he captured her nipple gently between his teeth, then sucked, lavishing her with his tongue, until the sound of her breath caught.
As she arched and whimpered beneath him, he released her hands, and they flew at once to his head, her fingers raking deliciously through his hair.
She gave a small gasp, half laughter, half plea. “No… no, I…”
His mouth stilled, and he lazily looked up to find her gaze — wide, inquisitive, and heavy with longing. Her lips parted slightly. He released her gently. She drew a shaky breath as her nipple slipped from between his lips, his fingers still teasing the other.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No… yes… no. I don’t know.”
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Like this?” he murmured, rolling his tongue around the tight pink bud, all the while watching her, watching him.
“Yes… no… yes! When you do that… it sends a shooting sensation all the way down to… ”
A jolt of pleasure ran through him, and he smiled wickedly as he flicked her again with his tongue. “Down to where?”
Her cheeks flamed. “To… to…”
“Show me.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly…”
Ignoring her protest, he shifted beside her and took her trembling hand in his. His voice dropped to a husky whisper against her skin. “Do you touch yourself in your bed at night?”
“What?” she gasped breathlessly, “No, I… it would be sinful.”
“Mm, a sinful pleasure,” he murmured, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Let me show you.”
Tormenting himself, tormenting Sylvie, he trailed their hands across her hips.
She wriggled and gasped as he moved their hands inwards, gently pushing between her legs, parting them only enough to allow their touch.
Stroking seductively up and down her inner thigh, he let her get used to the invasion of his hand.
Her breathing came uneven now, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. Beneath his control, desire and tenderness warred within him — the need to claim her. His own heart was pounding. His arousal pulsing with want like never before.
He caught his breath in anticipation as their fingers brushed the silken curls between her thighs. She shuddered, holding her breath, and he finally looked up at her — biting her lip, eyes half-lidded, clutching the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to earth.
“Shall we stop?” he managed, his voice roughened by restraint.
She shook her head and opened her mouth, and he caught her whisper as he kissed her again — slow, tender, aching. Her mouth, soft and warm, opened beneath his, trusting, responsive, eager, and he finally guided her finger through the soft down and stroked her most intimate place.
“Oh, gods, Sylvie, so wet,” he murmured against her mouth, and she instantly pulled away. Turning her head, cheeks hot with embarrassment, she pushed his hand from between her legs. He stilled, his heart thudding against his chest.
“What… what do you mean?” she spluttered.
Smiling, he nuzzled into her neck and murmured, “It, it is for pleasure, my love. Here,” he said, guiding his finger back into her forbidden folds, “let me show you.”
“I, I don’t understand.”
“Silky wet, and slippery, so when I stroke you like this…”
Her back arched at his touch.
“Good?”
“Mm,” she whimpered.
“And here,” he said, near breathless himself as his finger circled gently, “your little button of untold pleasure… when I caress you here?”
“Oh, yes… oh, heavenly unicorns!”
Smiling, he captured her nipple again between his lips.
Sylvie’s hand snaked up his thigh, fingers hooking in the waist of his trousers, lost in pleasure, pulling him closer as though instinct had taken control.
Responding without thought, his knee parted her legs, settling himself above her.
Then he froze. His manhood suddenly sprang forth from the confines of his trousers. His eyes snapped to Sylvie’s face.
Startled, she blinked at his arousal, eyes wide in disbelief. “I… I wasn’t thinking… and that thing you’re doing—oh my…”
He rose swiftly, stepping back from the bed, his breath ragged.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, panic flaring in her voice. “No… please don’t stop. I won’t look again, I promise.”
“Stop?” His voice rasped, threaded with dark amusement. He stripped off his trousers in one swift movement.
“Oh,” she squeaked with a nervous little giggle, her eyes still fixed on his manhood.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t look?”
Her eyes darted to his face, and she found a smile waiting there — teasing, intimate.
“May I… may I touch it?” she whispered.
“No,” he said calmly, though he felt anything but calm as he stood still, allowing her time to explore his body with her eyes. Her devouring looks heating him beyond reason. A mere touch would be his undoing.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I haven’t finished with you yet,” he murmured as he sank to his knees, his hands already closing gently around her ankles.
She squeaked in shock as he tugged her gently toward him, laughter and nerves tangled on her lips.
“Did you ask for my kisses?”
“Yes, but…”
“But?”
“Yes, but… oh…” she gasped, her eyes as round as saucers.
His palms slipped up her calves, and he grasped her under her knees.
He raised an eyebrow in question. She swallowed and gave a quick nod.
Without hesitation, he swiftly parted her knees, then draped her legs over his shoulders as his head dipped between her.
Her breath caught, her thighs tightening instinctively against his head, the sound of his low chuckle mingling with her gasp. “Angus!”
His tongue slowly slid up the inside of her thigh — the erotic scent of her arousal beckoning to him like cool water to a parched man.
His fingers parted her damp curls, his thumb finding her little nub.
It hardened instantly under his caress, and his manhood jerked in response — her moans now pleasure, not protest, as she fell back on the bed.
“Oh, it feels…” she murmured, her legs relaxing their grip, his mouth moving closer, so close…
“Stop!” she suddenly squeaked, breathless, startled by the rush of sensation — her thighs clamping his head again, stilling him.
So close. Her dizzying scent filled his nostrils, the intimate taste of her nearly upon his tongue. He drew a deep, ragged breath and forced himself to stillness, fighting the urge to ignore her. He raised his head slowly, raking his eyes up over her body before he found her looking back in shock.
“Were you…” she spluttered, “I mean, can you… is it proper… are we allowed to… is it part of … are you allowed to kiss there!”
He blinked slowly, the effort of restraint almost painful. “Proper?” he murmured with a wicked smile. “Well, it’s perhaps not something one would mention at morning tea.”
Her knees still draped over his shoulders, he cupped her waist in both hands and, with one fluid motion, tossed her playfully further up the bed, positioning himself above her. She gasped, caught between shock and delight, and held her breath.
“As to whether we are allowed,” he said softly, running his thumb seductively across her bottom lip, “it is rather — am I allowed?”
“Allowed?” she breathed, barely above a whisper.
He leaned close enough for his breath to brush her mouth. “Do you allow me to kiss you here?”
“Yes?” she whispered, her lips parting instinctively as she lifted her head to meet his kiss.
“Then, I am allowed,” he whispered teasingly against her lips, then withdrew before she could catch him.
She gave a small, startled laugh, reaching for him, but he caught her hand instead, turning it palm up to his mouth. “And here,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief, “do you allow me to kiss you here?”
“Yes… of course,” she giggled.
Smiling wolfishly, he drew the tip of his tongue slowly across her palm, tracing the line of her fingers before seductively drawing her index finger into his mouth and sucked.
The soft sound she made in response was part surprise, part wonder.
Her eyelashes fluttered in surprise as he withdrew, then sucked it in again.
“Oh,” she breathed shakily as he let her hand fall limply to the bed, “that felt…. I never imagined… it sent a tingling…”
“Mm…” he murmured, already teasing her nipple with his thumb, “and do you allow me to kiss you here?”
Her reply was a breathless sound rather than a word, and when he bent and closed his mouth over her, she arched up for more. “Yes, yes,” she whimpered as he sucked and teased and as she grasped at his head, he instantly released her.
“Then,” he rasped, his own breath unsteady, not sure whom he was torturing more, “then I am allowed.”
“Oh, Angus, the fluttering…” she panted, her legs tightening around his hips, her body instinctively seeking his. “It’s, it’s, unbearable, it’s…”
“Mm?”
“I feel like I need to… oh, I don’t know, press against you… release something… it’s…”
“It’s sweet torture,” he murmured, moving lower, covering her with his hand, the heel of his palm applying gentle pressure at the top of her mound as he slid his fingers into her silky folds. She instantly bucked and moaned with pleasure.
“Yes, yes… I… I think that’s helping…” she gasped, the words tumbling out between half-formed moans.
He watched her wriggle beneath him, entranced.
He swallowed hard as his thumb slid across her heat, petting her bead of pleasure.
Swallowing again, he lowered his head and threaded one of her legs back over his shoulder, his throat tight.
“And… and do you allow me to kiss you here?” he whispered at last.
She tried to lift her head, but it fell back as she cried, “Yes,” and he was upon her before the last syllable left her lips.
Driving his tongue into her silky heat, he slowly licked her, once, twice, before he closed his mouth over her and sucked as his tongue flicked and teased her sensual button.
Her scent was intoxicating, the taste of her — like something he had craved all his life but been denied — driving him wild.
His desire was mounting rapidly, uncontrollably, and he dove deeper, lapping at her secret entrance, opening her with his tongue before flicking back to her button as he slid his finger inside her.
She quivered beneath him. He slowly withdrew his finger, then slid two back in, gently moving them inside her.
Wet and tight, he nearly exploded himself as she went rigid, her sex contracting, spasming around his fingers as the first tremor of release rent through her body.
She shuddered. Once. Twice, thrice more.
Lost in the crescendo of her pleasure, it took him a moment to catch his breath — vaguely aware as her leg slid lifelessly from his shoulder, her body abruptly limp beneath him. The world shrank to the sound of his own ragged breathing.
He raised his head sharply, his chest tight. Instantly above her, his eyes frantically searching her face. “Sylvie?” he whispered, his voice raw. He brushed his trembling fingers over her lifeless cheek. “Sylvie?”
Nothing. Not a movement. Not a sound.
A cold dread sliced through him, hardly daring to breathe. He caught her face in both hands, shaking his head as disbelief warred with fear. “Sylvie?” he said again, more urgent now, his voice breaking on her name. “Sylvie, my love?”