Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
What did the toaster say to the slice of bread?
I want you inside me.
—From Bash’s dad joke collection
Bash
His queen collapsed on the bed, one arm draped over her eyes, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she fought to regain her breath.
When Arabella came against his mouth, Bash had almost done the unthinkable and exploded in his boxer-briefs—something that hadn’t happened in a good thirtysome years, not since the first time he’d fingered his high school girlfriend in his mid-teens.
To stave off the orgasm, he’d ground his hips against the bed—desperate for a different kind of friction. The kind he was about to get.
He climbed on the bed and leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her softly parted lips.
“Oohh,” she moaned.
“Oh what?” he whispered against her mouth, tracing the seam of it with his tongue as he reached between them to roll her sensitive clit between his fingers.
“Mmmmm,” she squirmed, opening her mouth for him and tangling her tongue with his. He kissed her leisurely, but carnally, fucking her mouth like he wanted to fuck her pussy. “Mmmm,” she groaned again into his mouth.
“What’s mmm, my queen?” He eased his mouth away from hers, admiring the puffiness of her lips, the cupid’s bow more pronounced from their kisses.
“You,” she whispered against his lips, a blush creeping up her neck, “taste like me.”
He smirked, cocking a brow. “Tell me, my queen. Do you like how you taste?”
“I like how I taste on your lips,” she whispered, nodding, her gaze tracking to the head of his cock, which was now peeking out and begging for entry to the promised land. Precum glistened on the tip, and Bash groaned as the tip of her tongue peeked out.
The image of Arabella on her knees, sucking his cock, almost brought him to his own knees. Almost, because this was all about her.
He rolled the puckered bud of one nipple between his fingers, causing her back to arch off the bed. Pulling the other into his mouth, he sucked and circled his tongue on the pebbled point. “Bash,” she moaned, holding his head to her. “I can’t…”
“You can.” He sucked harder and then pinched her other nipple. She was so aroused from her orgasm, another wouldn’t be hard to cajole from her delicious body.
“Oh, God…fuck, Bash…”
Bash realized she’d called him by his nickname.
Twice. Like it was too much to grind out all three syllables of his name.
He trailed a hand along her side, gently scraping the soft skin with his fingertips while he continued his ministrations on her breasts, switching from side to side, building her back up.
Slowly, he guided his hand between her legs and she widened them, welcoming. He eased a finger inside.
“Jesus, Arabella, you are so fucking wet,” he groaned against her nipple, sucking harder as he added a second finger and began pumping.
“Oh, God—Bash…yes, please. Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop,” she chanted, grinding her hips against his hand.
The sounds amped him higher—the sucking of her pussy as his hand slid in and out, the pants and groans, her pleading whimpers. She was on the precipice…and he needed to be inside her right now.
Bash curled his fingers, rubbing that perfect spot, and gently bit her nipple. Arabella exploded again, once again crying out his name as she soaked his hand.
He shucked his boxers, positioning himself between her legs. “Arabella, do we need a condom?” He had an open, fresh box waiting in the nightstand, but selfishly Bash wanted nothing between them.
“Wh—what?” she practically slurred, dragging a hand through her hair, her lids heavy with sated desire.
“Condom,” he gritted, giving his impatient, weeping cock a fierce squeeze.
She emerged slightly from her post-peak haze. “I…no. I haven’t had a partner in a couple years. And my tests were negative after. I always use condoms.”
“Me too. And also negative. Tested after…Stanza.” He quirked a grin and stroked his cock root to tip. “What about pregnancy?”
“Can’t. Menopause. What may be the one good aspect. That, and no shark week,” Remy gasped out as he dragged the head of his cock through her folds.
He’d never wanted a woman—emotionally or physically—the way he wanted Arabella Remington. Had never considered going without protection. But the idea of a layer between him and his queen was unfathomable. He watched, transfixed, as he circled her engorged clit with his bare cock.
“Sebastian, I need you inside me. Please…” She reached for him and he grasped her hand, moving it above her head.
“Bring your other hand up here, Angel.”
She obeyed, and he held both her arms in place by the wrists, leaning down and nuzzling her neck. “Now put your hands against this headboard and don’t move them. If you take them off, I stop.”
Dark blue eyes caught his and held. Then the sweetest smile spread across her face. “Yes, my liege lord. Now fuck me.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and Bash filled her in one thrust, both of them groaning in pleasure as he bottomed out.
Bash paused, everything inside of him marking this earth-shattering moment. The first of—universe willing—a lifetime of joining his body to hers. He drank her in, lost in their connection and her beauty.
Broken, jagged, grouchy, fierce and funny, perfect-for-him beauty.
He cradled her face in one hand, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone. There was a constellation of three pale, tiny freckles on the crest of the bone. Bash pressed a kiss there—claiming it. Claiming her.
Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened, watching him with a spellbinding blend of trust and lust that almost had him blurting his feelings.
“You ready, my queen?” he whispered instead, unwilling to ruin this moment if she didn’t reciprocate the enormity of his feelings. Of his commitment to her.
Beneath him, Arabella shifted, pressing her hips up in a silent signal of assent.
Slowly he began the ancient dance, pulling almost completely out and then sliding back in. “Arabella…angel…you feel like…perfection,” he managed, losing himself in the friction. “So wet. So tight...”
She clenched around him and he thrust harder, the veins on his forearms standing out as he held himself over her, taking her in.
“Yes. Yes, harder.” She squeezed again and Bash slammed his hips into her slick warmth, over and over.
The sensual slap of their bodies escalated his arousal and he fought the imminent explosion.
Ladies first, and he would not go over until she did.
Like a rule follower, Arabella kept her hands on the headboard, clawing at it. “Sebastian, more…” she panted, clamping down hard on his dick and lifting her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. Each time, he buried himself to the hilt and she gasped.
“Oh God, harder. I’m so close—so close…please don’t stop…yes!” Arabella cried out, thrashing her head as she exploded in an orgasm that nearly strangled his dick in its carnal vise.
With two more deep pumps into the tight nirvana that was Arabella’s pussy, Bash followed her over, groaning her name as he filled her, losing himself.
No. Not losing. He’d finally found himself.
A thought danced in his mind…and the impulse took over.
Bending forward, he pressed a kiss to the delicate area where her shoulder met her neck…and bit down gently.