But he could not move. If he moved, the spell would break. He would wake up, or a tree would fall through the roof of the cottage, or Margo would realize who he was and—
Well. She would be kind when she broke his heart, he was sure of that.
So he held himself still as a stone, except for the way his cock strained up as she slid her hand from his chest down his stomach. Christ—Christ,her touch was more than he could have imagined, light and warm and charged with temptation. His pulse pounded in his ears and he prayed that his body would not betray him, that she would keep touching him, that she would never stop, that he could die here and turn to dust and never give up the feeling of Margo’s hand a hairsbreadth from his cock, his bones scored from the pleasure of it.
But she stopped, of course. He balanced on a knife-edge of relief and despair.
An instant of pause, then she pressed up. Her body flattened against his, her face swimming into his view, her cheeks flushed and her pupils blown wide. Then her mouth was on his.
For the first time, they kissed. Her lips were soft and greedy, and Henry came apart.
He rolled her over, cradling her head with his hand, his body coming down on hers, pressing her into the floor. She whimpered into his mouth, her body bucking up against his, her fingers fisting in his hair and urging him on.
Ah God, ah fuck—her tongue was in his mouth, and she tasted like rainwater, like lust and cherries, and he sucked on her tongue, her lips, grinding down into her soft, soft body. Her legs spilled apart, and she arched up.
He was lost. His restraint was gone. Margo moaned and writhed, and he had never felt like this—he thought he might come from the sound of her, from the clutch of her fingers on his back and the shudder of her body into his.
But no—he couldn’t come yet. He had to see her.
He dragged himself away from her mouth, and the needy groan that came from her lips was a drug, a spur to his madness. He came back onto his knees, freeing his hands to shove his shirt up above her breasts. Her arms were still caught in the sleeves, and she twisted, trying to free herself and push the shirt over her head.
He couldn’t help her. He was too far gone to do anything but stare.
She was glorious, flushed all over with arousal, freckled across the curve of her breasts and her ribs and even the top of her mound, above curls redder than he could have dreamed up in his wildest fantasies. Her curves were riper than he’d expected, her nipples darker, tight knots at the tips of her generous breasts. Her tits bounced as she hauled off the shirt, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he wrapped them around her thighs and lowered his mouth to one nipple.
She gasped as he sucked the tight peak into his mouth, gasped and jerked and strained. He pressed his forehead against her skin, drowning in her scent, in the sensation of her stiff nipple on his tongue. He listened for the sounds she made as he softened his assault, laving her, flicking his tongue against the taut bud. He experimented with circles, with the edges of his teeth, his awareness spiraling down to sensation of her body and the sound of her moans in his ear.
Faster—she seemed to like faster, and harder, so he gave it to her, switching to her other breast.
Dimly, he realized that he was kneading her thighs with his hands, that his thumbs were tracing hard circles on her flesh near her sex. His position kept her legs drawn wide, and she bucked into nothing, into air. Her hips twisted.
“Henry,” she gasped. “Please,please—”
He brought one hand to her sex and then stopped, dazed, disbelieving. She was wet—ah God, she was so wet. Her arousal slicked her folds, the tops of her thighs, liquid heat on his fingers as he touched her. He gritted his teeth and pressed his face against the curve of her neck.
She closed her thighs around his hand, wedging his palm against her body. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop.”
He pressed a finger inside her, and when she gasped out her pleasure, added another. His mind was a white-hot blank, an incomprehensible swirl of Margo’s voice, the sight of her body, and need, so much need—the need to be inside, the need to make her come.
He rubbed his thumb at the apex of her sex, finding her most sensitive place. His pace was fast and firm, and it seemed a bare breath before she cried out, rocking against him, her wet heat clenching in rhythmic waves around his fingers. He felt wild, his emotions careening out of control, huge impossible satisfaction rising at the knowledge that he could bring her pleasure with his body. That he’d made Margo fall to pieces with his mouth and hands.
She came down slowly, her eyes blinking open, and he watched her face, his body tense and vibrating with desire. Her lips curled—his favorite sight—and then she threaded her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth down to hers again.
There was no end to the pleasure he took in her. He kissed her slowly, finding the shape of her mouth with his lips and his tongue. He wanted those crooked front teeth to dig into his bottom lip, and when she obliged, he felt drunk on pleasure.
He found himself pressing his fingers into the lines of her rib cage, savoring the edges of her body, the hard and soft. He kissed her jaw, her ear, her collarbone. The tips of his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts, and she whimpered. Her fingers untangled from his hair and swept down his back, and the faint pressure of her nails was a whisper, a graze, not enough.
“Henry,” she whispered, “you’re shaking.”
God, he was. And when her fingers coasted down his body, traced his hips and his buttocks, then closed around his prick through his smalls, he nearly wept.
“I want to touch you,” Margo said. “I want to know—what you like.”
“You,” he managed. His voice was dark and unfamiliar. He had never felt like this before, his nerves close to the surface, his cock so hard he felt it in the top of his skull.
She grinned and his heart leaped—or possibly his desperate erection. She was so lovely, loose and pleased, and he had made her so. He kissed the corner of her mouth and then reached down to strip off his smalls.
She made a sound of hungry delight, and when he looked at her, he saw her eyes were fastened on his cock. Her expression was enormously gratifying, and for all that he was nearly insensible with desire, he found he wanted to laugh.
