Page 66 of Making of a Scandal
“I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I first saw you,” he murmured as he began plucking the pins from her hair.
He dropped them carelessly to the floor as her neat coiffure began to droop, falling against the back of her neck. Ekta always used dozens of pins to secure the thick mass, but Dominick was patient, eyes twinkling with wonder as it fell loose lock by lock, down to her hips. When the last pin was gone, he threaded his fingers through the bone-straight strands made slightly wavy from being coiled up. He drew it over her shoulders and fanned it out, watching as it slipped through his fingers and fell over her breasts, the tips tickling her belly.
“Better than I imagined,” he said with a little smile, crouching to lift her in his arms.
Calliope clung to him as he carried her to the bed, laying her down and standing back to undress. She braced herself on her elbows to watch, the tension in her belly winding tighter with every inch of flesh he bared. She’d never seen these parts of a man. The column of his throat, the flat ridge of his belly and its trail of hair, the broad plane of his chest peppered with more of the same. His long arms, etched with sinewy lines and bulging veins, biceps giving in to strong forearms and the hands that knew where and how to touch her. His shoes hit the floor, his stockings peeled away, his breeches swiftly following. Then, he was bared to her entirely, the totality of him robbing her of breath.
He seemed taller out of his clothes, his legs endless and notched with more of the lean muscle blanketing his frame. His cock was terrifying and marvelous all at once, hard and long, curving up toward his navel in its aroused state, the swollen head glistening. She bit her lip, remembering the feel of the steely organ in her hand. It had been intimidating enough then, peeking out from the confines of his clothes, but looked even more alarming now that she realized where he meant to put it.
Her legs squeezed together as a pang of anxiety rippled through her, but true to form, Dominick was having none of that. He climbed onto the bed and ran his hands up her calves, gripping beneath her knees and prying them apart. She fell onto her back as he raised one leg, his lips caressing the arch of her foot, her ankle, then lower until his tongue was tickling the inside of her thigh. He draped the leg over his shoulder, eyes flashing up at her through disheveled strands of his hair. His hand palmed her other thigh, pushing it open to spread her wide. She whimpered, her face burning as the urge to cover herself and the need to experience what he had in store warred within her.
“Christ, the way you look just now,” he murmured, his breath teasing her wet, tender flesh. “So delectably innocent, just waiting to be ravished.”
She laughed, the sound shaky and tinged with her nervousness. “What a wicked rake you are, sir.”
“Yourrake now,” he murmured, flicking his tongue at her in a tentative overture.
Her entire body went rigid, her thighs pressing inward. But he merely held her open, his smile feral and filled with promise as he lowered his head to go back for more.
“And yes, goddess … I am about to do very wicked things to you.”
His mouth on her eradicated any response she might have formed, and there was nothing left to do, to say, to think. There was only sensation, his lips soft and teasing against her mons, his tongue sliding along the hidden folds and the sensitive bud. Her eyes slid closed and she gasped for breath, hardly accustomed to one thing before he’d layered another manipulation over it. He didn’t just kiss and lick, he sucked, clasping her pulsing clit between his lips and pulling on it with gentle tugs. He used his fingers to spread her open, lewd sounds emitting from him as he lapped and sucked as if he derived his own satisfaction from the act.
And what an obscene act it was, intimate and improper, and so blissful Calliope thought she might weep. Calliope gripped the coverlet with shaking fingers, her hips flexing of their own accord, as if her body instinctively knew how to demand more of what it craved.
“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, gently biting the inside of one thigh. “Ride my mouth … take your pleasure from me.”
She gasped when he latched onto her again, his tongue rubbing and circling with perfect precision. The last of her shyness fell away. If he could be so wicked, why couldn’t she? Bracing her feet against the mattress and raising her hips came as the most natural thing in the world, pressing against him at just the right angle and making stars explode behind her closed eyelids.
“Oh, my God … Nick!”
Her insides seized and twisted, sending shocked cries of delight ripping from her throat. There was no room for worry over what was proper or seemly; not when she felt herself building toward the same release she had experienced that afternoon. Only this time, she was certain she might die when it was all over, torn apart by the almost violent convulsions making her legs go stiff and her womb clench and spasm.
Dominick groaned, hands tightening on her thighs as he went at her with relentless intent, driving her up and up until she took flight. She pinched her lips to muffle the cries she couldn’t contain. The climax reached its height, then slowly eased, ebbing away like a receding tide while Nick calmed his fervent ministrations as if he knew she could not take much more. He punctuated the finish with a lingering kiss and one last swipe of his tongue before going up on his haunches, lips glistening with her juices.
It occurred to her that perhaps she ought to be mortified at the proof of where his mouth had just been, but she could only lie there in a stupor, shaking and twitching in the aftermath of exquisite pleasure. Nick grinned as he moved up her body, licking his lips like a cat savoring the last bit of cream. He lingered over her breasts, teasing her nipples and bringing the glowing embers of her need back to life like a flame striking a dynamite fuse. She reached for him, desperate for the rest of what was to come. The crisp hairs on his chest rasped against her fingers, and his heart beat at a wild, thunderous cadence.
Their bodies fit together seamlessly, as if they’d been made to come together this way—chest to chest, belly to belly, his narrow hips fitting within the cradle of hers. His cock fell against her, thrumming with its own pulse. It fit within her seam, gliding along flesh made slippery by her arousal and his tongue. His eyelids drooped over eyes burning with intense need as he flexed against her.
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, taking her first finger into his mouth and rasping his tongue along it. “Tell me you want me.”
Her voice came out shaky and breathless as he nudged and pressed against her, his rigid shaft unrelenting against her overstimulated clit. “I … I want you.”
He gave her nipple a light pinch, rolling the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger.
“I want you,Nick,” he urged. “Say my name so I know it’s me you want … only me.”
She cupped his face, drawing him down to her for a kiss, registering the earthy taste and scent of herself on his lips. “I want you, Nick. Only you.”
Gratification shone from his eyes as he levered one of her legs upward, until her knee nearly touched her chest. He took his cock in hand, and Calliope couldn’t tear her gaze away from the hypnotizing sight of him smearing himself with her wetness. Then, he was angling himself toward her entrance, jaw clenched in concentration. Calliope braced herself for the initial invasion, knowing there would be pain, but also knowing she had to endure it to discover what awaited on the other side.
His gaze snapped up to lock with hers once the broad crown of his cock was situated within the mouth of her channel. Then, he gave a nudge of his hips, pressing into her an inch and going deathly still. She held her breath, watching as he trembled and panted, vibrating from head to toe as he seemed to hover on a precipice, waiting for the right moment to throw himself over the edge. The cords in his neck stretched taut, the muscles of his torso rippling as he surged with one thrust, plunging deep. Calliope’s lips parted on a scream she couldn’t seem to force out, her chest burning and her back arching as her sheath stretched and throbbed, adjusting to the foreign invasion. Nick’s head fell back, an artery in his throat undulating with every beat of his heart, a matching rhythm making his cock jerk inside her.
“Are you … all right?” he managed between heavy breaths.
She nodded and swallowed, forcing words past her lips. “Y-yes … don’t stop. Please …”
Through the discomfort and burning stretch of her channel, there was something else—something she desperately wanted more of. She couldn’t wait, couldn’t stand another moment of this stillness now that he was inside her. He pulled back and thrust again, his rough groan tangling with her sharp cry. His lips clamped over hers to muffle the sounds, more of them spilling forth as he rocked in and out of her, stretching her, filling her, reshaping her to mold to him in a tight, grasping clench. His tongue mimicked his cock, plundering her mouth in the same slow rhythm.
