Page 25 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Forget half-mad. She’d utterly upended him. Scooping her under her taut buttocks, he brought her closer to his mouth so he could better feast.
This time, his lungs betrayed him. Her pleas peeled around the ceiling and his mind, driving him wild with her unrestrained ardor.
His breathing came in wild billows—every intake a struggle, every exhale a growl befitting a beast.
“Come for me, sweet.” That order scraped through his clenched teeth.
And at last, his lover did. Drenched in wanting, she came long and loudly, all slick, slippery molten heat that coated his tongue.
Drunk off the provocative musky taste of her, Wakefield devoured her. The sounds of sex and lust filled his ears, and his body’s temperature soared; his cock wept for the equally glorious state she’d achieved—or continued to achieve. She kept coming and coming in a tidal wave that seemed to continue on forever.
He’d prided himself on being a generous lover, but with her, here right now, witnessing the fierceness of her orgasm, he wanted his own more than he’d wanted anything—even his name repaired and his honor restored. Anything to have some relief from the primitive hunger within him.
She squeezed her legs around his head. “Don’t stop,” she implored.
And for a long while, he didn’t. He continued to service her, until his restraint began to fracture.
Wakefield moved up her body. His chest heaved, hungry for air and he was even hungrier for her.
“Christ,” Wakefield hissed, his mouth filled with her breast. “I’ve never been with anyone as responsive as you. You are magnificent.”
It was both startling and disconcerting at the same time. If he weren’t so burdened by an unflagging hunger, he’d have found some proper terror.
He reapplied the same efforts to bringing his lover the greatest pleasure. He pressed the heel of his palm against her throbbing center. This time, her climax came faster and just as hard.
Arching her neck, the lady tossed her head back and screamed his name. She drove her hips into his fingers; she gripped his head, keeping him at her breasts.
Sweat beaded on his body. Christ, if Wakefield didn’t feel like a green lad with his first whore.
Panting and gasping for breath, Cressida collapsed atop the folds of the mattress with Benedict still atop her.
He remained that way, continuing to worship her nipples with his lips and tongue, lazily grazing the overly sensitive tips with his teeth.
A shudder moved through her whole body, and he took that as his cue to stop.
Wakefield dropped a final kiss atop first one breast, and then the other, and came off of her. His cock throbbed painfully, and he gritted his teeth to keep from coming there and then, and from nothing more than having brought her pleasure.
What madness drove him. The illusion of her innocence proved so great that even after pleasuring the lusty wanton twice, her desire still took precedence before his own. Withdrawing his hand from between her legs, he rolled away from his paramour and worked to gather a second wind.
When he fucked her completely and thoroughly, then he’d find himself free of the spell she’d cast over him.
He was sure of it.
Chapter 5
Cressida’s heart raced.
What did men and women do after such an outrageously intimate act? She expected him to roll to the other side of the bed and sleep, but he merely drew her against his side. Cressida’s breath continued to come in ragged spurts.
While she came slowly back down to earth, she draped a hand over her brow. She’d never felt anything like this; as though her body had awakened from a dormant slumber she’d not been aware of, only to come to life in an explosion of lights, colors, and sounds. Her friends had spoken of this moment at their meetings over on Waverton Street. With the detail they’d gone into about relations between men and women, Cressida had been horrified at most and dubious at best as to how any of that could be the otherworldly experience they made it out to be.
In fairness to her friends, there hadn’t been any words they could have used to describe lovemaking that would have done the magic that’d taken place here with Benedict justice.
Cressida turned her head and found his eyes tightly shut. She used the moment to study him. His body glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, transforming each expertly crafted sinew of his muscular body into an exquisite work of art. The chiseled plains of his chest muscles tapered to reveal abdominal muscles so defined as to be divided into six parts.
It was as though he felt her stare upon him. Benedict pulled her closer into his muscular frame, slick with sweat.
Burrowing into him, Cressida wrapped her right arm around his waist.
