Page 75 of Snowbound Surrender
“My rules, remember?” He tutted and shifted her so her back was to his front. “This is for your pleasure only. You aren’t allowed to touch me.”
“That’s not fair.” She couldn’t help but sounding like a thwarted child even if their games were for adults only.
“Life is not fair, sweetheart.”
The jostling made her shirt hem rise until it was barely covering her mons. She should tug it down. Instead, she fought the urge to part her legs and lost. She was sitting on his lap, her head tucked next to his against the high-back chair. His legs were propped on the footstool, her thighs on top of his. She let her feet fall to the outside of his calves on the stool, leaving her knees several inches apart.
The shadowy place between her thighs was now visible. She looked into the fire instead, feeling the first tinges of embarrassment. Was the laced punch wearing off?
He stroked up from her hip, through the dip of her waist, to below her breasts. Her back arched, asking for what her tongue could not. He ran his lips along her bare shoulder to her neck. The pleasure made her nipples tighten. She glanced down her body with hooded eyes.
The points were clearly visible against the thin lawn of his shirt. He lifted a hand, and she prayed he was going to put her out of her misery and touch her breasts. Instead, he tugged the shirt so instead of exposing her bare shoulder, the deep vee revealed a swath of skin from neck toward her waist. As if his aim were to torment her, he traced his fingers along the edge of the shirt, skimming over the inside curve of her breasts.
“Please, Callum.” She didn’t even recognize the husky, plaintive note in her voice.
He took a nip at her neck at the same time he slid his hand inside the shirt to cup one breast. His thumb plucked at her hard nipple. She grabbed the armrests and pushed harder into his body. The intensity was almost painful, and yet she needed more.
He slipped his other hand to rest on her mons. The pressure and warmth of his fingers made her hips buck slightly.
“Easy now,” he murmured in her ear as if she were a horse. Any outrage was turned to ash under the warmth of his breath. Pleasure spiraled through her. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”
“N-no. Should I have been?” Thankfully too many other emotions vied for her attention and quashed any chagrin at her lack of knowledge.
“It’s your body. You should learn what brings you pleasure. Gentle or hard. Fast or slow. Do you wish to experiment?”
“Yes.” It came out like he had offered her water after wandering the desert.
His fingers slipped between her legs. His touch was light and gentle as he stroked her. “Do you like this?”
She did like it—very much—and yet… Her hips began moving against him.
His touch firmed and grew faster. “Or do you prefer this?”
It was like an itch being scratched. “Yes. Yes. Like that. Maybe even harder.”
He did as commanded. She felt both powerful and at his mercy.
He plucked at her nipples. The shirt parted to fully expose her breasts. Part of her wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and concentrate on the physical, but she found she could not look away from his hands on her body.
She had seen herself naked in the bath and while dressing, of course. Although, she had heard of some young ladies in the tonactually bathing with their unmentionables still on to avoid even that. But she had never appreciated her body in this way.
Her breasts were full and high, her nipples puckered and sensitive. Her legs were pale and lithe against his buckskins. The curls between her legs were a shade darker than her hair. And she was slick where he rubbed.
“Should I be so damp down there?” she asked.
His rumble of laughter vibrated through her. “Indeed. It is a sign of your arousal and would make welcoming my cock inside your body pleasurable for the both of us.”
He stopped his ministrations, and she caught his wrist with a gasp. “What are you doing? Don’t stop. Please.”
Even as she tried to force his hand back between her legs, he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them. His cock pulsed where it was nestled against her bottom. “You are honey on my tongue,” he said roughly.
He leaned closer and captured her mouth in a kiss so carnal she forgot to breathe. She could taste herself on his lips, and when his hand returned to rub her between her legs with renewed intensity, she teetered on the edge of a precipice.
Then, without warming, she fell into ecstasy. Pleasure washed over her in waves. She could hear herself making noises, but had no control over her reaction. Eventually the intensity faded, leaving her languid and boneless on his lap.
He adjusted the shirt, covering her breasts and mons once more. Then he rose with her cradled in his arms, and she wondered again at his strength. She cuddled into his chest, her mind muzzy and her eyes heavy.
He managed to push his covers aside and set her on the bed. The mattress was soft, and the sheets smelled of him in the best possible way. He covered her and stepped away, but she took his hand.
