Page 29 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
To give a taste of what he promised, Wakefield withdrew and then guided the tip of his shaft inside, this time more slowly. She may not be a virgin, but he was a big man, and her sheath, though dripping wet, was narrow.
Despite their mutual vow to end the act, she blinked wildly and her lips quivered.
Lust sent his nostrils into a full flare.
Perhaps he’d allow the pretense to go on abitlonger.
“You haven’t felt anything like this before, have you, mon mignon?”
His lover moaned. Using her body to urge him on, she shifted her hips back and forth.
He chuckled. “You have, then.”
“Never,” she whispered shyly.
“Shall I stop?” He withdrew again.
As anticipated, she held him more tightly. “I’ll die if you do!”
His droll amusement proved entirely short-lived.
Wakefield exhaled sharply. “Like a bloody glove you are.” He could very nearly believe her maiden-like avowal.
Her wet, molten heat, however, eased his way and bespoke a woman well-accustomed to making love and luxuriating in the pleasure it brought her.
“It’s like your body was made for mine,” he said, his breath coming in hard, fast spurts. “Do you want this?” he demanded, fully committed to their performance. “Tell me now or I will stop forever.”
“Please, don’t stop,” she wept. “I want you. I need you, Bene—”
With his mouth, Wakefield swallowed the rest of his name on her lips. Then, in one smooth glide, he buried himself ballocks deep inside his lusty bed partner.
Tossing her head back, she cried out.
Wakefield went still inside her.
God, had it ever felt as good being inside a woman as it did being inside this one?
He placed a conciliatory kiss upon her lips and then trailed his lips in slow worship along her neck, then continued his path to her quivering breasts.
“I’m sorry,” he said soothingly.
The enchantress glided her fingers through his hair. “No,” she said timidly. “I wanted you to. It feels so very good. You feel good inside me.”
To reward both her act and her honesty, Wakefield took her right nipple deep into his mouth and sucked.
He let their game continue on until he could no longer skillfully do so.
“Hold on tight, love,” he whispered. “I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”
In a move as old as Eve, and in the ways of all skilled courtesans, she wrapped her legs about his waist.
His breath hitched.
How had he failed to appreciate a pair of trim, athletic thighs before this moment?
Sinking his fingers sharply into her narrow hips, he began to move.
After some hesitancy, she easily took up the rhythm.
