Chapter 19 #3
His fingers parted her folds, stroking through the slick evidence of her arousal.
She was soaked. One thick finger circled her entrance before sliding inside, curling, searching.
When he found the spot that made her hips jerk violently, he centered on it, adding a second finger while his tongue found the swollen center of her pleasure and licked a long, slow stripe over it.
Millie grabbed the nearest pillow and pressed it over her face to muffle the broken moan that tore from her throat.
His mouth was wicked, alternating between broad, lush licks and tight, sucking pulls, while his fingers thrust in a steady, devastating rhythm.
Every stroke dragged against that perfect place inside her until her thighs shook and her hips rolled, shamelessly begging for more.
He purred with pleasure, the vibration shooting straight through her core. She was close … so close … but he slowed deliberately, keeping her teetering on the edge for what felt like forever.
“Nick—please—”
He lifted his head just enough to speak, lips glistening. “Say my name again.”
“Nick. Now.”
With a low, wicked chuckle, he rose over her.
He stripped off his banyan and small clothes, revealing the hard, sculpted lines of his body and the thick, flushed length of his manhood.
It jutted heavy and eager against his stomach, a bead of moisture already glistening at the tip.
He settled between her thighs, sliding the hot length of himself along her drenched folds, teasing her nub with every slow rock of his hips.
He watched her face the entire time as he notched himself at her entrance and began to push forward. The stretch was sharp, a bright sting that made her wince. He stilled instantly, holding himself up, breathing ragged.
“All right?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Continue.”
“You are giving me instructions,” he said, voice strained with the effort of holding back his amusement.
“I always give instructions. You know this.”
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through their joined bodies, and pressed a tender kiss to her temple.
Then he sank deeper, inch by careful inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
They both groaned. For several heartbeats, he simply stayed there, letting her adjust to the overwhelming fullness of him.
Then he began to move … slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive nerve. Pleasure bloomed hot and liquid, spreading outward until her entire body felt molten. Millie wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Deuce it, Millie,” he growled against her neck. “You feel incredible … so tight, so wet.”
She could not stop the words that spilled out between gasps. “That is … I mean … I suppose that is good?”
He paused his movement for just a second, leaning down to capture her lips briefly before growling, “Very good.”
She grinned, grinding her hips against him and muttering, “This is considerably better than I had anticipated—”
He laughed, warm and ragged, against her throat. “High praise.”
“It is accurate praise,” she panted. “I do not give inaccurate—oh—”
He changed the angle and drove harder, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.
Her running commentary fractured into desperate little sounds and half-formed words.
He slid one hand between them, circling her nub of pleasure with devastating skill while he took her deeper, faster, the bed creaking beneath them, skin slapping wetly against skin.
She peaked with shocking force, back arching, body clamping down around him in powerful rhythmic pulses.
She cried out into his shoulder, the sound muffled against his damp skin as wave after wave tore through her.
Nick followed moments later with a deep, guttural groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her in hot, pulsing jets.
He buried his face in her neck, shuddering through every last tremor until they were both spent and trembling.
They stayed locked together, breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin. After a long while, he rolled to the side and pulled her against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.
“My life,” he murmured into her hair, voice rough with emotion, “has changed beyond recognition.”
“Since a woman broke into your bedchamber with a candle,” she whispered, tracing idle circles on his chest.
“Since a woman broke into my bedchamber with a candle,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And was not remotely afraid of me.”
“You were not frightening,” she said softly. “You were simply in my way.”
His laughter rumbled through both of them, rich and warm.
He tightened his arms around her. The fire had burned low, casting a soft amber glow over their entwined bodies.
Outside, Oxford lay dark and quiet. Inside, Millie felt something deep and certain settle inside her chest. Connection, belonging, the warmth of not being alone anymore.
She closed her eyes and slept, safe in the circle of his arms.