Page 91 of House of Thorns
“Yes,” she moaned, lacing her fingers in his hair.
He smiled. She was so responsive, so sensual. He swirled his tongue around her flesh, and grazed her nipple with his teeth as he pulled the shreds of her gown and shift free from her winsome form.
Finally, she lay naked beneath him, just as he liked. Letting her breast slide free of his mouth, he began kissing his way down. She knew what he wanted. She opened her legs. Wide. He buried his face in her folds, tasting her dew on his tongue as he licked the line of her crease.
Already, he was tugging at the buttons of his breeches.
“Yes, Nicholas,” she whispered, arching her hips up to his tongue.
As the last button pulled free, he rose to his knees. She watched him shrug free of his shirt and then his breeches until, at last, he knelt beside her, as naked as she.
Rising on an elbow, she reached for his cock. He inhaled, sharply, as she traced his length with a fingertip, up, then down, and then back up to outline the sensitive head.
When she, at last, collapsed back on the bed, he eyed her with a wicked lift of his brow. Then, he slid his body over hers. Skin met skin. She was so soft. Like velvet. He kissed her, hard, as he slid a palm down her belly and slipped his finger between her folds.
She was wet. Ready. But still, he didn’t want to take her, not yet.
Sucking her bottom lip, he slowly let it go and reached for the ribbon.
“What are you doing?” she asked, catching sight of the length of satin.
He grinned and took his time tying the ribbon about her waist. He suckled each breast and played with her folds more than once before finally, he’d fastened the satin about her waist and looped the long ends around her back to draw them up between her folds.
The sight of the ribbon encompassing her body was far more erotic than he had imagined it would be. His cock lengthened, begging to bury itself in her heat. It was torture, an exquisite one, viewing her pink folds wrapped in ribbon.
Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. Sliding the ribbon aside, he aligned his shaft with her entrance and slowly pushed forward. The sight of her body accepting him, inch by inch, only fueled his passion. By God, he felt harder than marble. He thrust his hips forward, pushing deeper until he felt her maidenhead resist him.
He paused. “This will hurt, my love.”
“Quickly,” she panted. “Take me, quickly.”
She'd scarcely said the words before he granted her wish. In a single stroke, he was through. She gasped, rising up, but he caught her in a kiss. Almost at once, she began to buck, signaling her pain had already eased. He met her eagerly.
She was so sensual, such a wildly passionate creature, so perfect a match.
They moved together, with an ever-increasing vigor. She was sweet blessed heaven, taking him completely, her flesh molding around his.
He felt his seed rise.
He couldn’t finish before her. Desperately, he held onto every shred of control. His breath turned ragged. He knew she was close. He’d watched her release enough times over the past few weeks to recognize the signs.
She closed her eyes, moving freely, uninhibited by her passion.
Then, she began to shudder.
Pushing into her, he gasped as he released his seed, filling her channel as she bucked in the throes of her release.
Finally, when the last waves of their passion faded, he slid his body off hers to lay by her side. “My love, will you marry me?”
She opened her eyes, slowly. “Is this a jest?”
“Nay,” he whispered. “It never was. Not once.”
Her eyes widened, and then, she said the words he so longed to hear, “Yes, my love.”
