Page 96 of Pride: The Rogue
He caught the gleaming fluid that’d seeped onto her thigh with a finger and licked. “How sweet you taste, love,” he praised. “I want more than a taste, love. I want the whole thing.”
Snarling, he buried his face between her legs and set to work delivering on all the promises he’d made.
There was nothing patient or gentle in the way he worshipped her with his mouth.
Panting and gasping, she lifted her hips, grinding herself against him.
“Slow, love,” he coaxed, his breath a sough upon her heated center. “Savor it. Yes,” he coached when she adjusted her thrusts. “Just like that, darlin’,” he praised as she relaxed and lifted slowly into each stroke of his tongue.
Closing her eyes, Livian gripped the sheets, held on for dear life, and surrendered herself fully to the wonder he wrought.
All the while, Lachlan slipped his tongue in and out of her, simulating the mating movements. He licked at her nub and the slight, gentle sucking pulled a strangled cry from her throat.
“As I predicted, love,” he panted, “sweeter than even the finest wine.” Lachlan filled his hands with her buttocks and brought her closer to his mouth.
He flung himself more deeply into the carnal task. He stroked her with his tongue, probed her. And as his efforts took on a greater intensity, he drove that hot brand of flesh inside Livian’s aching channel.
Incoherent with need, Livian thrashed her head back and forth. “Mmm. Mmm.”
He growled as he feasted on her; the rumbling reverberations caused her to cry out.
She’d never felt anything like this. There’d never been anything like him. There’d never be anyone like him and would never be again.
Refusing to let the sorrow of that sobering realization rob her of this other-worldly feeling, Livian thrust aside the maudlin, and focused on the now.
While he licked her, he pressed the heel of four fingers against her opening, driving her mad with desire.
Her speech dissolved. “Mmm. Yesss. More.”
It was too much…
The pressure between her legs mounted; a sensation she now, because of this man, knew meant her body was close to a glorious rise and fall.
“I need it, Lachlan” she begged.
“What do you need?” he taunted like a dark devil who’d been put on this earth to tempt a lady to sin.
“Tell me, Livian,” he impelled. “What do you need?”
Livian tangled her fingers in his silken hair and gripped him hard. “I want…I want…” She bit her lip.
You! I want you!
“To come,” he ordered. Reaching up, he laid his enormous hands over her breast and played with the stiff peaks. “Say it, Livian. You want to come.”
“I want to come, Lachlan,” she screamed his name a prayer, and a plea. “I want to come.” Her words ended on an anguished, frustrated sob.
“My sweet, beautiful, Livian,” his husky, silken dominion penetrated a haze of beautiful suffering.
Yes! I am forever yours, and only yours!
Lachlan stopped.
“Nooo!” she wept.
Gripping Lachlan by his glossy, black hair slick with sweat, she attempted to force him back to that place she needed him most.
He was too strong.
