Page 90 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Another low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Of course you do.”
Withholding that which she sought, he slowly kissed a path up the expanse of her thigh. He licked and nipped a trail higher and stopped.
With his head framed between her legs, and his mouth a breath away from her fiery thatch, he at last gave her the naughty words that, in her untried innocence, he didn’t even think she knew she sought.
“I’m going to take you in my mouth, sweet Helia. I’m going to bury my tongue in your tight, wet slit.”
At his words, she reflexively lifted herself toward him, and his mouth at last had a taste of what he hungered for.
“I’m going make you come so hard and so good you’re going to curse and scream like a naughty girl.”
His shaft grew painfully hard at the mental image he painted for the both of them.
Another low, slow, desperate moan escaped Helia, and she began to undulate wildly, grinding her muff against his mouth and taking what Wingrave still withheld.
A sweat broke out on his skin. He wanted to give her the climax he’d just promised. When he’d wrung every last bit of come from her honeypot, he’d shove a knee between her legs and sink himself ballocks deep inside her.
Tormented by a want he’d never known with any woman, Wingrave groaned long, low, and loud.
“Anthony,” she begged, arching her hips, “I have never felt the way you make me feel.”
He thrilled with a powerful sense of male satisfaction that he’d been the one to awaken her to the wonders of lovemaking. It wasn’t enough.
Wingrave placed a tender kiss on the inside of her right thigh. “How do I make you feel?”
Helia angled her body up enough so their eyes met.
“Like that feeling on the warmest, clearest summer day,” she said softly. “Where you lie upon the highest peak of the greenest hill and stare up at the clouds as they float past.” Her eyes slid closed, as if even now she witnessed the scene unfolding. “Only, this with you ... it is like ... I’m one of those clouds drifting past.”
He’d never done that. Even in those distant days before he’d lost his hearing and life had been more uncomplicated.
Cynical from birth, he wanted to taunt her with that childlike image she painted. Except, he found himself besieged by an even greater yearning to know that tableau with her.
With her?
His heart thumped weirdly in his chest. Why should he want to take part in such a simplistic passing, with Helia Wallace, at that ... withanyone?
Helia opened her eyes. She moved her innocent gaze over Wingrave’s face in a tender search.
She stretched a palm out, and with an aching tenderness cupped Wingrave’s cheek.
He swallowed with difficulty.
For while he’d reveled in the skilled, sure touch of the most experienced courtesans, Helia’s roused something different, but no less powerful.
No, her whispery-soft touch provedevenmore profound for the nescience of it.
Done with these unnerving thoughts and feelings she’d roused, he ended the earlier sexual games he’d played with her, and gave Helia what she—and he—truly craved. Mindless sex.
Growling, he buried his tongue inside her sodden channel.
Helia hissed; her entire body tensed.
And then, as he teased her nub and lapped her, she rocked herself closer, pushing herself against him.
She had a mild, musky scent more potent than the opium mixed with spirits he’d favored in his university days.
Good. This was safe. This was something he knew. Something he felt comfortable with. Not the puling sentiments she’d roused.
