Page 81 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“Don’t.”
His voice left her trembling, her heart racing. He shifted slightly, and her gaze caught it—her torn underwear still clutched in his fist, stretched tight over his cock.
“You like this, want this?” he murmured, before dragging his tongue up her slick heat. “Watching me fall apart for you?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her hips bucking into his mouth as her orgasm hovered just out of reach. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
His lips grazed her clit as his fingers curled inside her, finding the perfect spot. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” he murmured, his voice dripping with hunger. “Not when you’re like this, wanting and waiting for me.”
Her head fell back, stars bursting behind her eyelids, but her gaze kept returning to him. The sight of his cock sliding against the silken fabric of her underwear, his hand flexing with every stroke, was burned into her memory—a permanent entry in her spank bank, ready for frequent revisits.
“You’re perfect,” he groaned, his words punctuated by a harsh suck that made her cry out. “So fucking perfect. I feel you, Nia. Will you come for me?”
“Yes!” Her voice broke, raw and unrestrained.
“Then give it to me, love,” he demanded, his tone firm yet coaxing, his fingers driving into her harder, his tongue unrelenting. “Let me feel you.”
The combination of his words and his touch shattered her. Her release surged through her like a tidal wave, pleasure so intense her whole body trembled against him. Her cry filled the room, unbridled and wild, as every nerve in her exploded.
The deep, guttural moan he let out tore through her as his release followed hers, a perfect, messy symphony.
When the haze began to clear, her gaze dropped to him. He was still nestled between her thighs, his lips glistening with the evidence of her undoing. His chest heaved, his dark eyes heavy-lidded but blazing as they met hers. He looked utterly wrecked, and the sight made her heart race all over again.
Her gaze darted to his hand, the slick fabric stretched taut. The ruined silk between them wasn’t just a casualty—it was a trophy, undeniable proof of just how far gone he was for her. She’d never look at fine fabric the same way again. Heat flared in her cheeks. “I didn’t realize I was into that,” she admitted, the words tumbling out before her mind could catch up with her mouth.
His brows lifted slightly, amusement and heat mingling in his expression. “Good to know,” he murmured, his voice like a caress. He dipped his head back down, pressing a lingering kiss to her sensitive center.
“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admitted softly. “I just knew I wanted to taste you.”
She blinked. That was him not knowing what he was doing? Her body was still trembling from it. If that was inexperience, she was in serious trouble.
“I couldn’t tell. We were quick,” she said after a beat, her tone light but her heart racing.
His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing just enough to make her stomach flip. It wasn’t annoyance—more like a silent, smoldering challenge.
“It means,” she added quickly, a grin tugging at her lips, “we can go again, right?”
The tension in his shoulders loosened as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against her knee, then her thigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
CHAPTER 27
Nia
“A DUCHESS AND A PRINCE SITTING UNDER A TREE…” —MESSY_IVY
The canal was calm at this hour, the water reflecting the low-hanging sun in ripples of gold and amber. The air carried the faint scent of blooming jasmine, mixing with the warm tang of Nia’s steak and cheese sub, which was perched on her lap.
She sat in her fresh clothes on a thick blanket Lochlan had grabbed, now spread under an ancient oak tree. A short way behind her, half-hidden by wild ivy and stone, lay one of the town’s many secret tunnel entrances, the same one they had emerged from not long ago.
It was a strange thing to reconcile—how assertive and provocative Lochlan had been in her office, yet how reserved and sweet he was now. She glanced his way as he stood near the water’s edge, tossing small, red bits to the ducks bobbing nearby.
When he wandered back, the lazy smile on his face was enough to make her pulse stutter. She nodded toward the bag in his hand, curious. “What were those?”
“Freeze-dried strawberries.”
She frowned. “Ducks like strawberries?”
“They like pretty much anything.”
