Page 45 of Straw and Gold
Her eyes widened and mouth parted again.Shit.
I adjusted myself slightly in the seat, forcing my hands to stay on the armrest where they needed to stay.
Another of her smiles bloomed across her mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment number six. What is your hesitation, then, husband?”
“That I’ll want more,” I whispered honestly.
She took her own moment to think before shaking her head, her bun of hair waving in the movement. “This is just a kiss. Just my kiss, Killian. That’s all it needs to be, if you’d like.”
Making my decision, I tapped my lips. “You start here, Moh Dhóches. Your kiss tonight starts here.”
CHAPTER 23
Morella
I roseto meet his lips, soft and questioning. He feared he’d want more. But I wanted him to want more. To share our bodies in pleasure would be a gift and I felt like we were close. So close to something I could taste, and feel, and see for our future.
I deepened the kiss, playing with his tongue as a promise of what I could do. His hands stayed gripped to the chair, but mine did not. They were everywhere on his skin—his neck, his arms, his chest. Goddess fucking dammit, hischest. I did what came naturally. I unbuttoned his nightshirt, opening the front so I could move my mouth across his skin—something I could never tire of.
He was so large in that chair by that fire in that room, and I wanted to lick everything—everywhere—until my tongue had consumed every surface of his skin and he was left moaningmyname. I only desired to undo his mind like he had mine, and I would do so by the tongue I had trailing across the plain of muscle just above the hem of his pants. My hands continued their wandering, now digging into the skin at his hips.
I slowed my trek down his body, looking up to meet his stare.
I’d never been looked at in such a way.
The heat radiating from his gaze had me grinning in triumph as my kiss sank lower, lower, and lower still until I could not avoid the hard length of him still tucked behind the soft cotton.
“Where do I kiss next?” I asked.
“Something tells me you know,” he growled.
I nodded, pulling myself away from his delectable torso, peeling back the hem of his pants in rapt fascination.
I’d never seen one this close before and something twisted uncomfortably low in my belly like a part of me was waking—demanding and wild.
“Here?” I asked sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His cum glistened already and more excitement pooled through me.
From the corner of my eye I saw his hands grip the chair tighter, bringing out the white of his knuckles.
“Good, Morella,” he whispered low. “Take my cock into your hand and slide it up and down. Kiss where you think you should. Watch my body for signs of what I enjoy most from your mouth.”
I gripped the length of him in my hand, relishing in the soft warmth. It was harder than I thought and with the first stroke, more spilled from the tip.
“Is this a sign?” I asked, before sweeping the length of my tongue across the head of his cock to taste him.
“Morella,” he growled, his throat rough, his hands betraying him completely, while his fingers dug into the armrests of the chair as if he’d soon tear them off.
I remembered the heat of his mouth on my most sensitive nerves and how much I hated when he’d move away, so I licked again, this time pausing a moment before lowering my mouth over him, not quite all the way, but enough to taste more of him, and give him my own warmth.
I licked him sweetly, slowly exploring more with my tongue as I took more of him. Did he want all of me over him? I pulledhim out of my mouth, stroking where my spit dripped down the full length, and looked to him for more signs.
He’d gone feral.
The flame in his gaze was wild, his eyes dilated, his chest heaving, nostrils flaring and teeth biting down so hard, his jaw kept flexing in the low firelight.
Did I have so much power over his pleasure? How could such a disciplined man lose his tightly leashed control over the mere touch and kiss of a woman?
I watched him in fascination, stroking long and slow. I’d done this to him. I’d made him look this way. Me, his wife of an arranged marriage of whom he did not even dance with on our wedding night. Of whom he tried to force into an entirely different room to sleep.
