Chapter 16 #2
A flood of wetness rushed into his mouth.
He stopped with a brutal abruptness that wrenched a sob from deep inside her soul.
“More. I want to hear more from you, Meghan!”
A savage glint lit his eyes.
“Say the words.”
“I want you to kiss my cunny,” she cried, stripped bare.
“Ahh. You are magnificent,” he extolled.
Meghan lifted her hips.
Sweat fell from his brow and struck hers.
“You love praise,” he said between heaving breaths. “You deserve praise.” Culross kissed the inseam of her thigh. “My treasure.” He bestowed the same benediction upon the other. “My goddess.”
With each one, a shiver moved through her.
He lay his cheek to the creamy expanse of her thigh, absorbing each convulsive tremor. “My queen.”
He filled his hands with her bottom, massaging the supple orbs, commanding her gaze. “My countess. My wife.”
Meghan struggled onto her elbows; her hair hung in a brown and auburn-streaked waterfall about her shoulders; the long lustrous locks fanned her chest; her pink areolas peeked through.
He sucked in a shaky breath at the sight of her.
Culross seated himself between her legs.
“Who else makes you feel the way I do?”
“Only you,” she said, her voice catching.
“Say it is me and only me who can give you what you need.”
The rigging creaked noisily as even the ship demanded Meghan give their master what he sought.
Her eyes glittered with tears and love.
“There is only you, August. I want only you.”
He buried his mouth between her legs. Sliding his hands under her buttocks, he eased her hips, nudging her closer so he could better worship her needy center.
Tensing, arching her back, Meghan’s hips undulated, moving of their own volition. She spread her legs for him.
His pulse beat like a drum in his ears.
How trustingly she opened herself to his claiming.
He licked her. He lapped her. Over and over.
She tangled her fingers in his hair and, while he ate her, she moaned and undulated against him.
Molding and squeezing the graceful globes of her bottom in his hard, callused hands, he plied her center with his tongue and lips. He sucked and licked all the delicious wetness that seeped down her thighs.
Meghan stilled.
He pressed his tongue to that most sensitive place.
Meghan splintered.
“August!” she screamed his name over and over again, sobbing.
While her tears fell, he scrambled to position himself at her center. He nudged the head of his shaft inside.
“This is going to hurt, love,” he groaned. “Only for a moment.” He prayed.
“I am ready.”
Her words emerged a plea.
Culross slid himself deep into her warm, wet heat. Digging his elbows hard into the mattress to restrain himself as his body begged. Every inch deeper he slid, her channel gripped and squeezed him.
Tossing his head back, he pushed himself home.
“Meghan!”
“Liar!” she cried. “It is—please, do not stop.”
His laugh came out a sob.
Their bodies moved as though the rhythm had been ordained for them alone.
His breath came in great billows as he struggled to breathe while she bucked to get closer to him.
His groan began in the base of his soul and shook their joined bodies.
“Meghan.” He rasped her name. “Meghan.”
“Please!” she sobbed. “Please!”
Driving himself onto his elbows, August leveraged himself deeper inside.
“Au-August!” she gasped.
Riveted, he watched her in her pleasure. The flush over her damp cheeks. He kissed her breasts, worshipped the peaks. Sucked her pebbled tips while he kept his pace within her.
“Who do you long for?” he demanded harshly.
“You!” she wept.
Her desire left a damp trail of moisture along the inside of her thighs. He wanted to lick it all away. He wanted to be ballocks-deep inside her, more.
Their thrusting took on a greater urgency.
“Tell me who you love,” he begged, plunging into her.
“You! I love you!”
Her cries filled his ears.
His movements grew jerky.
So close. So damned close.
“Come for me,” he pleaded against her breasts. “First. You will always be first.”
Meghan lifted her hips into his. The sounds of their flesh slapping filled his ears.
Her channel spasmed.
She was close…so close…
“August!” she moaned. “Please.”
He thrust harder.
“Who do you belong to?”
Meghan wept.
“You.”
He shoved deeper.
“Who am I?”
“M-my captain!”
His eyes flared.
Grinding his teeth, August gripped her hips; he dug his fingers into her flesh.
Meghan wept openly. “M-my master.”
With each passion-pain laced cry of ownership she ascribed to him, he rewarded her with another stroke.
“My tormentor.”
Sweat poured off him. His breath came in quick spurts.
He placed his mouth against her ear. “I will be your husband.”
Her body clenched with desire; her inner muscles gripped his cock and squeezed.
“My husband!” she screamed and went over.
He resisted, wanting it to last.
Meghan sobbed his name.
They moved frantically together.
He wrung every last bit of pleasure from her hungry body until she collapsed, panting into the folds of the mattress.
Only then did he join her.
Throwing back his head, he roared to the rafters.
All his muscles drew taut.
“Mine!” he thundered, wanting those reverberations to reach her heart and soul. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!”
He roared and groaned, pouring himself inside her hot, tight sheath.
Over and over, he staked his claim.
A final ripple pulled the last of the seed from him. “Mine,” he groaned.
His vision dimmed.
With a dying gasp, he collapsed over her, just barely catching himself on his elbow.
Their bodies trembled. Coated in sweat, he and Meghan clung tight to each other. His pulse thundered so loud in his ears with the power of his release and the beat of their hearts that Culross heard nothing.
Until it was too late.
Rolling away from Meghan, he tossed a blanket over her and stormed to his feet.
He dove for his trousers.
Something hit the door with such force it splintered on a single strike.
Meghan screamed.
Culross had only just dragged his trousers on and had a gun in hand and was between her and harm when the door gave.
The figure responsible for that kick stumbled into the room…
Followed by four additional very angry McQuoids.
Fuck.