Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord
Page 88

“Yes, please …”
"So polite. So passionate. My Voluptas.” He slowed the caress to an unbearable rhythm. “But that’s not everything you want, is it? ”
She opened her eyes, meeting the emotion in his. “I—”
“Tell me, Isabel. What is it that you really want? ”
“I want … I want you.”
“What part of me? ”
She blushed, pressing against him, urging him to go faster. “No, Nick …”
He grinned, wicked and wolfish. “Oh, yes, Isabel … what part of me.”
He stopped entirely then, his fingers high inside her, but unmoving, his thumb gone from the place where everything seemed to begin and end. She spread her legs, uncaring of what it might look like, of how it might seem. “Nick …” she cried, his name a plea and a protest.
“You have only to ask for it, Isabel.”
He blew a stream of cool air against the heat of her then, and she thought she might go mad from the torture. “Your mouth,” she whispered. “I want your mouth.”
“Good girl.” He was on her, his lips and tongue perfectly against her, caressing and licking in a lash of pleasure that robbed her of thought. Her fingers clenched in his hair as he worked her with fingers and tongue, and he growled his satisfaction against her. The rumbling sound brought with it the crest of feeling, a rolling wave of pleasure. She cried his name and he flickered across the peak of her sex, his mouth adoring her until she was gone, pressing against him, lifting her hips to meet his wicked, wonderful mouth, the pleasure rolling over her until she could do nothing but hold him to her, afraid to lose the one thing that was at the center of her world.
After she had returned to earth, he lifted his mouth from her and kissed his way up her body, stroking her br**sts, playing with the tips of them until she sighed, then taking her mouth in another long, lush kiss. “You must never be afraid to ask for what you want, darling. Not with me.”
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I want the rest.”
The blue of his eyes darkened immediately at the words. “Are you sure? ”
She nodded. “Entirely. And you said all I had to do was ask.”
He shifted against her, and she could feel the hard, heavy length of him against her. She lifted against him, eager for the next part of this marvelous dance. He caught his breath, and she could tell he was trying to remain still. “Isabel—has anyone ever … spoken to you about … this? ”
She shook her head. “I have seen animals.”
He smiled, half grimace. “It is not quite the same …”
She pressed against him again. “Nick … please. I don’t care.” His scar had gone stark white, and she lifted one hand to smooth a finger along the mark, hoping to soothe the demons he was fighting. “I want it. I want you.”
“It will hurt, beauty. Just the first time. But I shall make it up to you.”
Her heart clenched at the words. He was worried about her.
And she knew, in that moment, that this man—so full of concern even in this moment when she could barely think of anything but the feel of him against her—had never meant her harm.
She smiled, running her fingers into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her. When they came apart, she whispered, “I trust you.”
And the words seemed to make everything right.
He lifted himself then, pushing just barely inside her, allowing her time to stretch, to accommodate him. She tilted her head, considering the sensation. “It is strange.”
He gave a hiss of laughter at the words. “It only gets stranger, darling. But we shall try for something more.”
He rocked against her, traveling slightly deeper each time, until she was sighing her pleasure with the movements. “That does not feel strange. That feels nice.”
“Just nice? ”
“Quite lovely.”
“Good.” He thrust deep, and she gasped, her eyes opening wide as he seated himself to the hilt. He stilled, holding himself above her, “Isabel? Are you …”
"Strange again,” she said, her voice tight, pained.
He loved this woman. The thought came clear and fast at the entirely wrong time for him to address it. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was true. He brushed his lips across hers in a soft, reverent kiss.
“I shall make it better, beauty.”
He moved, pulling slowly out of her, and she grasped his arms at the movement. “Oh. Oh, that feels …”
He reversed his movement, returning to her. “Yes? “ “Nick,” she sighed.
“I love the way my name sounds on your lips.” He leaned down and suckled one nipple until she was panting with pleasure. He moved in earnest then, deep, smooth strokes that chased away her pain and left pure pleasure in their wake. When she lifted to meet his thrusts, he knew he had her. He read her movements, following where her body led, eager to help her find her pleasure.
“Say it again.” He began to thrust deeper, faster, and the tension that had been mounting became unbearable.
“Nick,” she whispered.
Finally, he reached down between them, placing his thumb against the rigid core of her; he stroked there once, twice. “Again.”
“Nick!” she cried out.
“I am here, love,” he said, capturing her gaze. “Look at me, Isabel.”
“I can’t … It is too much,” she panted. “Please! I don’t know …”
He lowered his mouth to her ear, speaking softly there. “I know. Take it. I shall catch you when you fall.”