Page 24 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
His lover moaned and rocked herself against that lone digit. He added another digit to her sheath.
He hissed. “God, you are so tight.” The force of his lust leant a harsh edge to his voice.
She answered with a desperate, plaintive cry.
“But this isn’t what you truly crave,” he purred. Wakefield continued to stroke her over and over, and she undulated her hips like one receiving benediction. “What youreallywant is my cock buried in your sweet, hot cunny.”
Her sweat-glistened, flushed cheeks pinkened all the more. Burying her head against his shoulder in the shy little way she did, she nodded. All the while, she continued to rock herself against him like the veritable wanton she was.
Amused by her commitment to the act, he smoothed away his smile. “Ah, that’s right. How can I forget? You are a virgin, are you not?” He teased her nub.
Panting, his siren thrashed her head back and forth wildly on the satin pillow. “Y-Yessss,” she hissed for days.
Enflamed, he continued to play with her clitoris. “I’m your first lover, then.”
“Yes, Benedict,” she keened. “There’s only been you.”
Sweat beaded at his hairline.
Now he understood the pull of The Devil’s Den’s latest show. He and his newfound partners would make a fortune in a week’s time once the world had a taste of the debauched play Wakefield had discovered this night. Never had his lust for a woman proven the first, foremost, and primary focus over his business operations—until Lady Aurum.
“Does my innocent girl want to feel my mouth on her?”
She gasped. “Yes!” His lover lifted her mouth to his and kissed him like she was drowning, and soon she’d sucked him into the same eddy of desire.
Drawing on the self-control he’d developed early on with past lovers, he made himself end the kiss. “Ah, but that’s not what I referred to, sweet.”
Confusion clouded her eyes as he began sliding slowly down her body, trailing his lips and tongue while he went. The light sheen of perspiration glistening on her body was a potent aphrodisiac that threatened to drive him out of his head with lust.
Wakefield stopped with his chin brushing the apex of her lean, shapely legs. He blew lightly upon her damp curls.
With a pain-filled moan, his responsive lover gripped the sheets on either side of her and clung like she was holding on for dear life.
“B-Benedict?”
The thready pitch to her sultry voice eased a primal smile of satisfaction from his lips. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured huskily.
God, she smelled of lust and salt and sin, and he’d never again have a restful night unless he tasted her. His lungs strained with the effort of control, but it was too much. She was too much.
Wakefield buried his face between her creamy white thighs, rested his chin atop the silky sandy-blonde curls shielding her mons, and rubbed.
“Wh-what are you doing, Benedict?” She sounded intrigued, hungry, and woefully shy, a perfect blend that propelled them deeper into their performance.
“You’ve never been kissed this way, have you?” he murmured soothingly. Wakefield dropped a kiss upon the satiny softness of her inner thigh.
He knew she shook her head in adamant denial by the way her entire body rocked in time to that motion.
Liar. Still, he was all too happy to keep the performance going—for now.
“I’m going to lick you here,” he said thickly. Then he darted his tongue along her slit.
Crying out, she jerked her hips up and then swiftly lowered them back into the mattress.
“I’m going to suck your folds like so.” He proceeded to demonstrate.
His magnificent lover jerked her cunny up to take what he only hinted at. He smiled against her curls. “I’m going to bury my tongue inside you.”
Then he proceeded to do just that. Wakefield stroked her once. Twice. Three times. Until he found himself incapable of stopping. He worshipped at her core with an almost violence he’d never before felt with any other woman—stroking his tongue within her hot channel with the same ferocity and desire he would his cock.
