Page 41 of The Black Lion
She gasped when he took hold her hips, flipping her over onto her belly and then yanking her up onto her hands and knees. Arabella spread her legs in anticipation, the insides of her thighs slick with arousal.
“Does that appeal to you?” he whispered, tracing his fingertips down the back of one thigh. “The idea of me watching some whore and her cull while stroking my cock to thoughts of you wearing those clamps and having your arse filled with the plug?”
Arabella whimpered, raising her hips as he stroked his way back up, fingertips playing along the seam of her mons. Drew snared her clit between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinch and a twist.
“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, Drew!”
He gentled his touch, indolently petting and caressing her with one hand while tearing open his breeches with the other. His cockhead glistened with wetness, and more of the same appeared at his slit as he stroked himself, trembling from the intensity of his need.
“I thought having you again would soothe me,” he murmured, slowly delving a finger in to gather her wetness, then pressing it at the tight pucker of her rear passage. “I didn’t think I could ever be more desperate to have you than when I would jerk my cock to memories of you, burning up from the inside and starving for the barest touch of your hand.”
Accustomed to the invasion of his fingers as well as his plugs, Arabella inched her legs as wide as they would go, her upper body sinking to the bed as she eased to let him in. His finger found effortless entrance into her, slickened from her juices and surrounded by tight, molten heat.
“I was wrong,” he groaned, easing her open for him, working her up to taking a second finger. “Having you again has only made me more desperate. I can’t even look at you without feeling as if I’ll burst out of my own skin. One taste of you would never have been enough. It has only made me hungry for more, and more, and more.”
He pressed his cock to the entrance of her cunny, slowly feeding into her inch by inch while he went on stretching and opening her back entrance. Most times, it was difficult to be gentle with her, the intensity of his need turning him into a raging creature of instinct and lust once he got his hands on her. But, in this, Drew never forgot to temper his touch, to slow his strokes and patiently wait for her to be ready to take his plugs. Only … tonight, he sensed she was ready to go beyond that. Which was why, as he reached back into his chest, he ignored even the largest of his plugs in favor of the oil.
Drizzling it between her cheeks, he coated his fingers in it and delved back in while slowly working his cock in and out of her. Arabella clawed the coverlet and swayed into each of his thrusts, urging him faster and harder and deeper.
Drew gritted his teeth and wrestled with control, but it was fast slipping out of his grasp. His thighs stung with the impact of flesh on flesh, and his fingers took up a steady rhythm within her arse, driving desperate moans from Arabella. He heard the note of finality in them, felt the fluttering spasms of a coming climax, and urged her toward it. Fucking her harder, he used his free hand to take hold of her hair, wrenching her up until her back arched, offering him the perfect leverage. She screamed and wailed as if hovering on the edge of madness and pleasure and pain, her cunt squeezing tight around his cock as she came off. Drew rode her mercilessly, not letting up until she had collapsed beneath him, her breaths coming swift and uneven.
“Touch yourself for me,” he commanded, guiding his cock toward the oil-slickened entrance to her arse.
A rough groan tore from him at the sight of Arabella’s slender fingers appearing from beneath her, stroking her clit and delving into her cunt.
“Yes, just like that … don’t stop.”
The head of his cock eased into her, and Drew paused, taking a deep, slow breath and reminding himself that they stood on the threshold of new territory. Arabella had gone stiff beneath him, her fingers stilling in their ministrations and her breath growing shallower. With her cheek pressed to the bed, he could only make out one eye, and it was round as if with shock.
“Shh,” he urged, nudging into another inch, and then another. “You’re doing very well, my Bella.”
Another soft whine emitted from her, this one tinged with need and desperation as she resumed stroking herself with renewed vigor. He withdrew and plunged, giving her his entire length in one swift stroke. The coverlet muffled her cry as she took him to the hilt, the tight ring of flesh clenching at his cock with exquisite relentlessness.
“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, going still inside her long enough to catch his breath. “Bella …”
One of her hands twisted in the coverlet as the other plunged deep into her cunt, showing him the rhythm she wanted, begging him for more without words. Drew obliged her, rocking into Arabella with slow, shallow thrusts, accustoming her to his length and girth. His entire body coiled tight as he did battle with his own urges, not wanting to hurt her, needing her to enjoy this as much as he did. It was so glorious, he was on the verge of coming within the next three seconds, but he fought it off—wanting this to last, needing to feel connected to her in this new and different way. It was filthy and base, and the manifestation of so many nights of torrid dreams. And his Bella opened herself to it without reservation, meeting his thrusts with wiggling hips and an arched back.
“Drew,” she moaned. “Fuck me … please!”
A feral grin spread across his lips, and the tension unwound from his spine as her words set him free. With a savage snarl, he snapped his hips, the impact of his cock thundering through her and sending her skittering a few inches across the counterpane. He followed, taking hold of her hips and angling her to his liking. Then, he fucked her in earnest, his heart galloping as he rode her with every bit of the savage hunger roiling through him. She accepted it all, moaning her pleasure and working her fingers faster below where he penetrated her.
Closing his eyes, Drew let his head fall back as he surrendered to the moment, to her. He could pretend to be in control all he wanted, but a deep-seated part of himself knew the truth. Arabella had him snared in her delicate little hands, could control him with nothing but a word, could destroy him if it pleased her. There wasn’t a thing Drew could do but accept that and pray she never stopped loving him as much as he did her. Even the whisper of a thought that he might lose Arabella had Drew falling over her, one arm wrapped tight around her waist to mold her to his body.
“Mine,” he growled against her ear, nipping at the lobe, biting at her neck. “My Bella.”
Her hand came up to clutch the back of his neck, and she tipped her head to offer him her mouth. “Yes,” she whispered between kisses. “Yes, Drew.”
He buried his face in the crook of her neck and raced to his own finish, dimly aware that she fell apart right along with him. Pressing into her, he held himself deep and spilled, groaning and trembling as she moaned and thrashed beneath him.
They fell into a heap together, Drew easing onto his side to keep from crushing her with his weight. Heavy breaths and stray sighs of satisfaction were the only sounds to be heard in the room as she turned and sought the haven of his arms, her face buried in his chest. Drew held her close, draping one leg across both of hers to completely ensnare her. Fortunately for him, she didn’t seem to want to be free.
Chapter Thirteen
Arabella lifted a pineapple from one of the many baskets lining the fruit stall, smiling as she noted its vibrant color and firm outer skin. Handing it off to one of the two men tracking her every move through the central marketplace of the village, she moved on to inspect the other offerings.
Over the past two months, she’d come to think of the market as one of her favorite places on the island. It came second only to the untouched stretches of beach along the north coast, and the little cove a walk away from her home, where Drew had revealed the presence of a waterfall pouring into a clear lagoon.
Her days were filled with an aimless unpredictability that Arabella found exciting. It extended through every part of her life—from what she might wear on any given day, to how she might pass her time either in Drew’s company or out of it. Her husband was spoiling her rotten, and she couldn’t pretend to be displeased with this development. Most mornings she never even had to leave her bed to have breakfast, with Drew ordering it delivered to her at the same time every day. Sometimes he lingered to eat with her, other times he would have to depart before dawn and she would break her fast alone—though by no means resentful of the people who depended on him.
