Chapter 24
“Wait!” Gwen exclaimed, and Hugh stopped dead. “I want you in my mouth first.”
She couldn’t wait to feel that steady pulse on her tongue—and from what she’d gathered, very few people did anything for him without wanting something in return.
Maybe she couldn’t shower him with jeweled ravens or burnish his social or professional stature, but she could at least give him her body in the least selfish way she knew how.
She could, to put it bluntly, suck his dick. And given the antinausea amulet still fastened around her neck, doing so wouldn’t even trigger her pregnancy-sensitive gag reflex. Hopefully.
His brow knitted. “I want to bring you pleasure too, Gwen.”
“I know,” she told him soothingly, patting his bare, hard thigh. “Rest assured, I’ll enjoy trying to deep-throat you.”
He exhaled in a violent whoosh, as if she’d punched him in the stomach.
“I don’t think I’ll vomit on your penis.” Her nose wrinkled as she evaluated the current state of her own stomach. “If I do, please know that I’m extremely sorry.”
He began laughing helplessly, and the joy in his expression erased years from his face as he collapsed onto the blanket beside her. He might have been in his twenties again, young and untouched by the grief of his lost twin and the demands of a lost family reputation.
“As…” He bit his twitching lip. “As tempting as your offer sounds, why don’t we wait on that particular act until we’re sure how effective your amulet might be? Especially since we’re in someone else’s home?”
He made a good point.
“Rain check?” She glided her palm down the length of his arm, admiring him. Savoring the satiny heat of his thick skin.
He shivered and grew noticeably hotter under her touch, his laughter dying. “Rain check. But you don’t have to be selfless for my sake, Gwen. Your—”
“To repeat myself, I believe I’d very much enjoy sucking your dick.”
His eyes closed briefly, the dick in question throbbed visibly harder, and he had to pause before continuing. “As I was saying: Your pleasure will feed mine, because I’ll feel it. So whatever you want in this moment is genuinely what I want too. I just need you to tell me.”
Fine, then. Fellatio could wait for another time.
She thought over her preferences. “I don’t think I have the energy to be on top.
Not this time, right after a vision. And I really want to see your face when you come, but when I’ve already had one orgasm, I’m most likely to have another if you’re…
” She waved an arm expressively, ears burning with embarrassment. “If you’re, um, behind me.”
She was not going to use the term doggy style in front of Councilor Hugh Blacke, Esquire. No freaking way.
“Got it.” He sounded satisfied. “You can just relax, Gwen. I’ll do the work this time.”
Propping himself on an elbow, he slowly skated his hand over her round belly. Dragged his knuckles lightly up her inner arm and along her collarbone. Then he carefully, tenderly cupped her breast. His thumb brushed in an arc over the stiff tip of her nipple once, then again.
He paused, brows drawing together as he studied her face. “You’re not especially sensitive there, are you?”
No, she wasn’t. He was the first partner who’d ever noticed.
She shook her head, and he made a thoughtful, humming noise.
Then retraced his path down to her stomach and dipped even lower.
As she sucked in a shuddering breath, his hot, smooth fingertips slipped back between her legs.
Back over her slick, swollen flesh and damp, crisp hair.
He watched himself toy with her there, face rapt and taut, eyes glowing with heat while he leisurely explored and experimented, learning what made her squirm and gasp and shamelessly spread her thighs wide for him.
The pulsing of his dick grew stronger minute by minute, its flush deepening. Touching her, bringing her pleasure, was definitely turning him on too. Just like he’d told her.
Then his thumbs skimmed over her clit, one after the other, again and again, and she couldn’t watch his reaction anymore, because her own had grown too intense.
She squeezed her eyes shut with a helpless moan—only to find his hot palm pressed over her mouth, ensuring her relative silence in the dark, quiet house.
“Okay?” he murmured.
She sucked in a breath through her nose and nodded fervently, because oh, heavens, something about his hand over her mouth, keeping her quiet, was really, really, working for her.
He paused. “More than okay?”
“Mm-hmmm,” she told his palm, nodding again. “Mmmmm.”
He left that hand in place and occupied the other between her legs once more.
Teased her entrance with a swirling middle finger while his thumb pressed her clit.
Rubbed her vulva between his careful knuckles.
Dipped inside her and played, paying assiduous attention to every spot that felt good, in the world’s slowest, most delicious finger-fucking.
“Gods and goddesses, you’re lovely,” he told her, voice raw with sincerity and need.
She arched and trembled. Rocked her hips and clutched the pillow on either side of her head. Sweated and cried out into his palm.
Once she was aching and desperate, on the verge of another mind-bending orgasm, his relentless hand finally stilled. With his customary gentle efficiency, he had her face down and comfortably propped on pillows within moments.
He knelt between her legs. Ran soothing hands along her damp spine and over her ass. Waited patiently.
Right. He wanted words.
“Please,” she told the pillow, then turned her face to one side so he could hear her clearly. “Hugh, I need you. Please.”
That was all he evidently required. In one long, smooth push, he sank inside her, setting every nerve in her body aglow. Oh, shit, that raised spiral on his dick rubbed every sensitive spot she—
He pulled back to the tip, then surged forward again with deliberate, measured force.
The quiet slap of skin against skin filled the room, and the pillow muffled her gasp.
With one hand on her hip, he guided her movements and set the rhythm, while his other palm glided over every square inch of her skin he could reach in an endless, admiring caress.
That touch was a message, one she didn’t require empath abilities to read. He was fucking her—gods, was he fucking her, each firm, ridged stroke a cymbal clash of pleasure she could almost hear—but he was also making love to her. Worshipping her.
They might not be face-to-face, but he wasn’t thinking of anyone but her.
She had no doubt about that. And when she desperately pressed back against him, when she eagerly took his cock inside her over and over, squeezing around him in greedy need, she couldn’t remember any other partner.
Didn’t want to have anyone but him in her mind. In her body.
Within moments, she was ready to come again. Almost. But she couldn’t quite reach between her legs in this position, and—
Heat lapped over her clit. Retreated. Swirled and teased. Washed over her once more in a sudden surge that echoed another steady, inexorable push of his dick.
She cried out into the pillow, coming so hard she lost track of anything but the clench of her body around the cock buried deep inside her and the white sparks behind her scrunched-shut eyelids with every relentless flick of heat over her clit.
Her orgasm lit her like a star and wrung her out like a dishrag, and once it was done, she collapsed into the pillows and probably would have slept then and there. If, that is, Hugh weren’t already maneuvering them both with careful, strong hands.
Somehow he was now sitting with his back against the sofa, rooted firmly within her once more as she straddled his lap. And she loved seeing his gorgeous sweat-streaked face and the need that hardened his bearded jaw to stone, but this wasn’t going to work.
“I don’t have the strength to move,” she whispered hoarsely, faintly embarrassed.
It was an apology but also the honest truth. And he was much stronger than he appeared, but not strong enough to lift her entire weight and fuck himself with her body.
“Shhh.” He smoothed sweaty hair from her cheek, tucking a fallen strand behind her ear. “You don’t need to, honey.”
The tendons in his neck strained, and the heat of his body flared to a sweltering, all-encompassing blaze, but he didn’t move a muscle.
In their stillness, the pulse of his cock, barely perceptible while he was actively fucking her, became an insistent, ever-strengthening throb inside her.
It grew and grew in power until each jolt infinitesimally shifted him within her, that subtle raised-corkscrew ridge rubbing against her inner walls in a breath-stealing, incessant caress.
“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open, and she clutched his shoulders for dear life. “Oh.”
He dropped his head, and his lips clung sweetly to hers. Nuzzled and sipped and drank down her breathless noises of pleasure as that steady throb coaxed her exhausted body into renewed desire.
“Do you want to come again?” he rasped raggedly against her mouth.
“I…oh, gods.” She was squirming against him now, riding the pulse inside her, even though it couldn’t lead anywhere. “I want to, but I don’t think I can.”
He made a noncommittal humming noise. Then his entire body tensed and flexed, and the throb of his cock intensified even more, until each jolt felt like getting fucked from the inside out.
He wasn’t kissing her now, just panting mouth to mouth as she clawed at his shoulders, fisted his horns, and bit her lip in a vain attempt to muffle her moans.
Then, without warning, he clapped his palm over her mouth again. In a violent, convulsive movement, he suddenly arched back, his face stretched taut in a grimace of ecstatic pleasure as he finally let go of his control and orgasmed within her.
As he came, the pulsing rhythm of his dick turned faster and even more insistent, and—