Chapter Thirty #2
Her body tensed—tighter, tighter—and then shattered. She gasped, her mouth falling open, eyes squeezed shut, and Nicholas kept his fingers moving until she was wrung out, spent, panting.
He finally slowed, then withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his lips with a wicked glint in his eye. He sucked one clean, never breaking eye contact.
“You taste like sin,” he murmured. “And I am a man utterly devoted to damnation.”
Bea arched her back, dazed and flushed and trembling.
But he wasn’t done.
He was touching her so gently, but there was nothing gentle about the way he looked at her—as if he’d crossed a desert just to fall at her feet.
His eyes were nearly black, ravenous. She’d never been looked at like that.
As though he were starved for her. As though she were the only thing on earth that might satisfy the ache inside him.
He rose above her at last. Broad shoulders. Strong chest. Muscles roped and flexed with control—barely. Then lowered himself once more to cover her completely. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. His weight pinning her deliciously, his hand cupping her jaw as he stared down at her.
“I want to hear you again,” he said, voice dark and aching. “The sounds you make when I touch you, kiss you, take you. I want to hear what I do to you.”
She whimpered when he rocked his hips against hers, the hard ridge of him sliding perfectly against her slick center. Her fingers clutched the sheets.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “Squirming. Wanton. Writhing for it. You’re giving yourself to me right here, right now, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she gasped, shame and decorum burned to ash by the fire in her blood.
“You’ll let me put you on your hands and knees, face down on this bed, and drive into you until you scream my name?”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Nicholas…”
He nipped her throat. “Say it.”
“Yes.”
He grinned against her neck. “Good.”
Then he kissed her, deep and thorough, as if he meant to consume her whole. And he did, devouring her moans, her sighs, her whispered pleas as he slid lower, trailing kisses down her body.
When his mouth reached her core, he spread her thighs with broad palms and looked up at her from between them, eyes gleaming.
“Watch me,” he said. “I want you to see how much I love tasting you.”
And then he did.
With slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, he licked her as if it were the only thing he’d ever wanted. Bea cried out, her hips arching off the bed, and he growled in approval.
“So sweet,” he murmured, licking again, circling that perfect spot with unholy precision. “So wet for me. So perfect.”
She was half mad with pleasure, gasping, twisting, trembling. When he added a finger—then two—thrusting in time with the rhythm of his mouth, she nearly came undone.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Oh God, please—”
“I won’t stop. Not until you come on my tongue,” he growled, and seconds later, she did—shattered and glorious, back arched, a strangled cry torn from her throat.
Nicholas didn’t let up until her body stilled beneath him, her chest rising and falling in erratic gasps.
Then he crawled back up her body, kissed her slowly and deliberately, letting her taste herself on his lips.
“Still with me, darling?”
She nodded, dazed and flushed, lips parted.
“Good,” he said, positioning himself between her legs. “Because there’s much more.”
He reached between them, stroking himself once, twice, before teasing her with his tip.
“I should be gentle,” he said. “It’s your first time. I should go slowly.”
He pressed forward, just a little, watching her face.
“But I’m not going to. Because you don’t want that, do you?”
She shook her head, her legs wrapping around his waist.
“You want it hard. Deep. A little rough.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
And then he thrust.
She gasped—half pain, half pleasure—as he filled her in one smooth stroke. Nicholas stilled, grinding his teeth, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.
“Jesus, Bea,” he rasped. “You’re so damn tight.”
He buried his face in her neck as he moved, slowly at first, then faster, harder, hips pumping, one hand still gripping hers above her head.
“I’ve thought about this,” he groaned. “Every night. Every damn night. What it would feel like to be inside you. To hear the sounds you make when I fuck you. And now—hell—I’m never going to stop.”
She met him thrust for thrust, her fingers digging into her own palms, her cries growing louder, more desperate.
“I want you to come again,” he panted. “On my cock this time. Squeeze me. Milk me. Take it.”
She cried out, her whole body tightening around him, shuddering again as another orgasm crashed through her.
Nicholas followed with a roar, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside her, clutching her to him like a lifeline.
For a long moment, they stayed like that. Tangled. Breathless. Utterly wrecked.
Then he rolled to his side, keeping her in his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“You,” he murmured, voice rough, “are going to be the death of me.”
She smiled against his chest. “You started it.”
He laughed, deep and low. “And I’ll be starting it again. Very soon.”