Chapter Thirteen #3
He laid her down gently on the unmade bed, her whole body quivering at the way his skin fluttered against hers. Lucy tried to smile up at the man she adored, but her nerves got in the way.
“You can ask me to stop at any time,” Bernard said quietly, leaning on his elbow while his other hand gently brushed around her nipple, causing it to bud.
“If you think I’m going to get all this way and not climax,” Lucy said, the words spilling from her, desire removing all sense and barriers, “you truly are a criminal.”
His laughter was ended only by the passionate kiss they shared, and the hand that had been caressing her breast vanished. Lucy moaned with disappointment in his mouth—then moaned for quite another reason.
Oh, dear God, his fingers—his fingers, they were slowly sliding up and down her slit, her secret place, and it felt…wonderful.
Lucy squirmed, her hips lowering so she sank onto his digits, and Bernard broke their kiss to swear into her hair.
“You wanton thing—”
“I want you, I want—oh, yes.” Lucy moaned, unable to hold back as her whole body sparked with pleasure. “How do you do—oh, more, please, please, Bernard!”
Her gasping cry was met with another muffled curse, but Bernard lifted his head and kissed her fiercely on the mouth as his fingers curled inside her.
Lucy’s hips bucked. There was no way to stop them and she did not want to because the bliss within her was growing, growing beyond what she thought she could bear and yet there was somehow more.
And his fingers were—were working her now, stroking a rhythm deep within her even as his thumb circled her delicate nub and there was pressure, pressure all around her and within her and if something didn’t break soon—
“Bernard!”
It broke; or rather, she broke. Lucy was not sure which. Her whole body jerked and pulsed as the ecstasy poured through her, taking with it innocence and sight, her every nerve jangling with pleasure that did not let her go for what felt like an age.
When the cascading waves of climax finally started to fade, Lucy blinked. She blinked again, and both vision and the sight of Bernard returned.
He looked worried. “I—I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“‘Hurt’ me?” Lucy could no longer remember what pain was. “No, but—but you did not… I had presumed, with the act of intercourse, that it was a mutual endeavor.”
His low chuckle somehow hummed through her body as Bernard lifted himself from her side and moved, quite bizarrely, to nestle between her legs. “Yes, well, there are many ways to experience pleasure, Lucy. This way… This way is for both of us.”
Lucy blinked through lust-hazed eyes. “‘Both of us’?”
“And I’m going to try to go slowly,” Bernard said, his breath somehow short as his smile warmed her. “Stop me if you want.”
Stop him? Lucy could not think why on earth she would wish to stop anything about this encounter. No, this was a perfect moment, a connection she had never expected, a desire she had never—
“Lucy,” Bernard groaned as he slowly sank, inch by inch, his manhood into her.
And Lucy gasped, her body invaded and yet the intrusion was welcome, stretching her, forcing itself deep within her. There was ardor to be found, and heat, and rippling echoes of the pleasure she had just felt.
Surely… Surely, she was not about to feel such heady delights again?
“You feel incredible, Lucy.” Bernard moaned, his breaths very quick now as he clearly fought for control. “I—I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“I’m not hurting.”
His eyes widened as he stared down at her. “You—You’re not?”
“Whatever it is that you do from this admittedly odd position to give me a climax,” Lucy said, almost laughing at the widening of his astonished eyes, “I would ask you to do it now. Right now.”
Bernard swallowed. “‘Right now’?”
“Yes, please. I think I’m ready to cry out in pleasure again,” Lucy said as calmly as she could manage, wiggling her hips for a better angle.
Her lover groaned. “Oh, dear God.”
“No, it’s Lucy.” She grinned, reaching up and grasping his shoulders. “And I’m ready.”
She was not ready.
That was, nothing could have prepared her for the swelling tightening within her as her body grasped on to Bernard’s manhood and he thrust himself deep within her.
No amount of description could have adequately depicted the way her body ached for him, her hips moving, matching his rhythm as the pleasure built.
And nothing, nothing could have primed her for the intimacy, the power of their connection, the way Bernard looked deep in her eyes, the way Lucy gave everything of herself, everything she could ever be, as Bernard quickened his pace and pressed a quick, harsh kiss upon her lips as his free hand moved to slowly circle the nub of her body where they met.
“Lucy, I—”
“Oh, God—Bernard!”
This time, the climax was deeper, longer, making her body thrash against the small bed as Lucy forgot who she was, where she was, what she was, all her thoughts instead focused on the man who was hissing her name as he poured himself within her.
When he fell into her arms, Lucy clung on to Bernard Dixon, the spy, and knew her life would never be the same again.
She had a wedding to plan, for a start.