Page 63 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
He’d a notion of making love to her with penetrating kisses before she endured his girth. Above all, he didn’t want to hurt her. Once she’d had another tumult or two, he hoped she’d be relaxed enough to take him into her body. Even then, he feared his thickness would be troublesome.
But it seemed he hadn’t banked on Cecile taking matters into her own hands.
There was nothing passive about the way her fingers were curling about his manhood, nor the way she’d begun rocking against the parts of him touching between her legs. She surveyed him through half-closed eyes, parting her lips.
He didn’t need telling twice that she wanted kissing.
What he hadn’t expected was that the heat of her mouth, her eagerness, would send him rocketing.
With a groan, he thrust in the loose hold of her fist, and felt the warning throb in his balls. Her other hand crept round to squeeze his ass.
As if he needed any more encouragement!
‘Easy, there.’ He swallowed hard. ‘How ‘bout you put your hands on my hips. It’ll make things a mite easier for me.’
Biting her lip, she nodded, and he wondered just what she was thinking. Clearly, she didn’t find the male member off-putting—though he knew some women did. It was a strange thing to see for the first time, let alone to grab ahold of: blatantly male, yet peach soft and smooth, designed to slide where a woman was made to take a man.
Dipping his head, he kissed the tips of her breasts. Immediately, she sighed, and opened her legs a little more, rubbing herself against him.
His cock gave a leap and he wondered again how he’d get through this without disappointing her.
‘Please.’ Cecile arched, pushing her breast further into his mouth. ‘Lance, touch me.’
His hands obeyed her command, coming round to cup her behind. Spreading his hands over her derriere, he pulled her closer. She tensed momentarily as he dipped between her cheeks but, swiftly, he moved lower, touching where he’d pleasured her before.
His finger found her sex, and she was slick.
He moaned against her breast, closing his mouth harder than he intended, but she pressed down upon his finger and clasped him in a firmer embrace.
He grunted at that.
‘Oh! Your ribs.’ She froze.
Against his cheek, he felt her heart thumping.
Releasing her nipple, he straightened, bringing his lips to brush hers.
‘My ribs’ll be just fine.’ He took care to breathe shallow. ‘It’s you I’m afraid of hurting. You’re just so…you feel mighty good. So good, I don’t know if I can…that is, I’m going slow, but every sinew of me is roaring to race to the finish line.’
‘The finish line?’ Her brows knitted.
Of course, she’d likely no idea what it meant for him. He only hoped he could control himself enough to avoid taking her too deep at the end.
She wriggled again. ‘Don’t be afraid. We were made for this, weren’t we? I trust you.’
Both her legs came about his and she tugged at his lip.
Again, he was drowning in her kiss, distilled from everything she was and hoped and longed for.
Slow!he reminded himself; but it was hopeless.
She was too lovely, and she wanted him.
He couldn’t hold back from needing to be inside her.
A small shift in position had him fully cradled between her legs. With his hands under her luscious behind, he positioned his head and slid forward an inch.
She stiffened.
