Page 91 of The Wolf of Mayfair
Without breaking focus on her cunt, he stretched his hands up and filled his palms with her pert, tempting breasts. Through the thin fabric of her nightshift, her nipples peaked. Wingrave gave them a deliberately sharp yank.
Helia moaned and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“Like that, do you, kitten?” he whispered between each stroke of his tongue.
She pressed him closer to her core and rammed her hips up.
“Uh-uh,” he chided and drew back. “You know I like those naughty confessions from you, love.” Wingrave gave her another deliberately taunting lick.
“Yes,” she cried out. “I love it, Anthony.”
When he still didn’t give Helia what she craved, she gripped his head hard and pushed Wingrave where she wanted him.
Her wily power and determination sent another rush of blood to Wingrave’s already throbbing cock; his balls tightened.
He gritted his teeth against his body’s lustful yearnings and continued to withhold that which her body yearned for.
Wingrave released a long sigh against Helia’s soaking thatch. “I am afraid that will not do, Helia.”
She whimpered. In a clear attempt to steal what she sought from Wingrave, she rocked back and forth.
He chuckled and buried his nose in her curls.
Helia cried out.
Wingrave breathed deep of her salty juice. “Your sweet puss weeps for me, love.”
With a heroic effort, he stopped.
Helia’s rapturous shout gave way to an agonized wail. “Anthony,” she keened.
“Tell me,”he demanded in harsher tones. “Do you like when I’m rough with your nipples, Helia?” Wingrave followed that question with another sharp tweak.
“Yesss,”she sobbed. “Ilovewhen you are rough with my nipples.”
“Good girl,” he praised.
Rewarding her capitulation, Wingrave plunged his tongue inside her.
Helia collapsed on the desk and lay sprawled with her legs parting even more widely.
Around them, notes and papers fell to the floor like an ivory vellum rainstorm.
Wingrave intensified his ministrations. Alternately, he sucked her nub and swirled his tongue in a slow circle inside her. Fast and then slow.
Incoherent, gasping utterances spilled from her lush mouth. “Mm-hmm,” she moaned.
“Christ, Helia. You are so fucking wet.”
At his words, her juices flowed and coated his tongue. He licked up her salty wetness.
Growling and hungry for this innocent woman as he’d never been for the most skilled courtesan, Wingrave lapped wildly of her nectar like Helia was the first and last meal he’d ever know.
Gritting his teeth, Wingrave reached a hand down and gave his randy cock a tug.
That yank did nothing to assuage the discomfort of his raging lust. Instead, his blood fired ten degrees more.
Helia’s thrusting took on a greater urgency, her movements jerky. But still, she remained tense, her hips undulating wildly in search of the surrender she desperately sought.
