Page 50 of The Marquis, the Minx, and the Mistletoe
"Be careful," he cautioned, pushing the fabric off her shoulders and lowering his mouth to taste the flesh at her collar. "If you keep telling me you want ravishing, I am likely to take you at your word."
"Truly?" she asked on a little moan as he managed to shove the fabric down over her arms, freeing her breasts from their confines with a jerk of fabric and an answering jiggle of her flesh.
His lips closed over the nipple he had been enjoying, his big hand going to the other breast to give it an equally thorough groping. His tongue flicked against the hardened point, dragging little gasps of pleasure from her as he held her still in his lap, helpless to sink her aching center down on the erection she felt beneath her. "Truly," he answered as he slipped from one breast to the other, seemingly engrossed in tasting her this way, his tongue dragging over her flesh indulgently.
He released her for a moment, but only to reposition her, lifting her legs off to the side of his thigh so that he could have full access to whichever parts of her body he most wanted to toy with. He left the night rail on, stroking his fingers along her thighs with agonizing slowness, occasionally sampling her lips as he continued to devour her breasts.
She found her legs opening quite of their own accord, a pleading sort of mewl coming from her throat as he came ever closer to touching her at the center of her desire. "Sheldon," she gasped helplessly, "please."
"Please?" he repeated, lifting his head and looking into her eyes, still holding her firmly in place. "I don't think a ravished lady is supposed to beg for more," he chided softly, using his fingers to urge her thighs further apart. "I think she is supposed to squirm and protest while the brutish barbarian does whatever he likes with her sweet little body."
She gasped, her vision blurring as his fingers slid roughly over her entrance, smearing wetness over the expanse of her. He rubbed his fingers over her boldly, ensuring that she understood that he could touch her wherever he liked, but only teasing at the possibility of penetration, almost as though he were toying with her still. This was exactly where she wanted him to touch her, but it was still somehow not enough. She could not name nor place the location of her frustration, but she wanted more. She rocked her hips as he thumbed explosive little jolts of sensation from her, her wet breasts heaving as she struggled to breathe.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" he rumbled.
"More," she managed between gasps. "Please."
He lifted her with very little effort, pressing her back into the bed and pushing her skirt up around her waist. He knelt and hoisted her legs up over his shoulders, pulling her to him until that tender, needy part of her landed directly on his lips.
She had to turn her head to not cry out, for the sensation of his tongue lapping against her was startling enough on its own, but worse, contributed to this building frenzy she felt throughout her body. She had never imagined a man doing anything like this to her, and realized as his tongue darted into her body that her fantasies had been sorely lacking. Her panting was pained, growing more and more helpless with every passing second.
He did not relent, the tip of his tongue swirling into the most exquisite places before lapping up the rewards of her arousal.
He must have released one of her legs, she realized absently, as he was pressing two of his big fingers into her, pulsing into her body in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. It was too much. She felt her body jerk, though her legs were held firmly in place by his superior strength. And then, with a sudden wave of indescribable pleasure, she felt the tension that had been building crack and shatter, rolling over her entire being with pulse after pulse of satisfaction.
He left his mouth on her until it had passed, only lowering her to the bed once she had begun drawing breaths into her lungs with the urgent depth of someone emerging from too long underwater.
She tried to open her eyes, to tell him what had happened, but felt as though her limbs were being weighed down. It wasn't until she felt the velvet-soft tip of his organ sliding against the slippery folds of her entrance that her eyes opened again, surprised that she could still feel anything at all, much less a resurgence of hunger.
"Yes," she rasped through her dry throat. "Please."
He slid into her hard this time, grunting with satisfaction at her plea. His strokes were unforgiving, and he slid his hands over her body, squeezing at her breasts and toying with the sensitive pearl just above where he was entering her until, impossibly, she felt that same physical insanity building in her once again.
She opened her mouth to warn him, but could only say, "oh, God," and again, "oh, God, Sheldon."
"Come for me," he urged, filling her again and again to the brim while his hands seemed to explore everywhere at once. "Once again, Tatiana."
She shuddered, unable to stop herself even if she'd wanted to. Her thighs clenched around him, her back arching as it happened again, just as it had the first time, though now with his organ deep inside her, there was a different feel to the spasms that throbbed within her.
He released a sound, just as helpless as she, and sped up his thrusting, his hands slipping over her damp skin to hold tight to her thighs as he rode his own wave of satisfaction, stifling his roar by lowering down onto her for an urgent kiss, moaning into her mouth as he pumped his seed deep within her, stroke after stroke.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting him to leave, not wanting him to withdraw, at least not for a moment. They were both too breathless to speak, and he allowed her to hold him there in the heavy silence of recovery.
He only pulled away once they'd both begun to regain their senses, their heartbeats slowing and the air coming more gradually to their lungs. He gave her a wicked little smile, his skin shiny with exertion and his hair rumpled where she had dug her fingers in. He kissed her sweetly, once on the lips and once on either cheek. He pulled the coverlet up around them and stroked her hair, his dark eyes full of satisfaction.
"I told you there would be more," he said. “For you, there will always be more.”
Chapter 24
It was with no small degree of satisfaction that Sheldon noted the languid limbs and sleepy blinking of his bedmate. This time she would not be scurrying off to see to chores while he recovered alone. He wrapped an arm around her naked back, stroking the ends of her hair as she rested her cheek on the hollow of his shoulder, her breath warming the skin on his chest.
They fit together well, he thought. Even if she did find him rugged and brutish and whatever else she had said. He had always been larger than the boys his age growing up, and it had been an asset in the war and in the bedroom throughout his adult life. He was pleased to hear that the sight of him warmed her blood, even if it was troubling for her, to begin with.
He thought she had very well come to terms with it now, splayed over him like she was, sated and peaceful within his embrace. He wished he could keep her here, like this, through the night, but he knew he would have to sneak back to his own room before the sun came peeking over the horizon. It would be very difficult to leave her.
She murmured something under her breath, stretching her limbs and reaching across his chest for his hand, which she held in her own, circling her thumb in his palm. "I like your hands," she said, pressing the curve of her lips into his chest.
"My hands?" He chuckled, spreading his fingers wide so she could trace her touch over the expanse of the one she held. "Did you see a good future in them?"
