Page 91 of The Lyon Whisperer
“I…yes,” she said, her thinking ability growing weaker by the second.
“Good. Because I want you,” he rasped, his lips moving over the upper swell of one breast. “I’ve wanted you since before we departed for the ball.”
“You have?”
With a soft curse he straightened. “This is not the most comfortable position.”
He stood, shrugged out of his robe and let it fall, then helped her to her feet.
The front of her nightshift gaped, and instinct had her raising her hands to drag the folds closed.
“No. Let me look at you.” He slid the sleeves of the thin lawn gown down her arms. When he released the material, it puddled at her feet like white foam.
With almost reverent hands, he cupped and weighed her small breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.
They responded in an instant, tightening, just as, deep in her core, everything went tight and hot with need.
A heady idea struck her. “Can I…?” She hesitated only a moment before reaching between them with both hands to grasp his fully erect shaft.
He hissed in a breath and his hips bucked toward her. “Holy Mother of God,” he choked.
She reveled in her own womanly power over her lion of a husband. She slid her palms over his pulsing flesh starting at the base where coarse hair grew. His skin felt hot and silky smooth, like molded wax. She touched the tip of his manhood with one fingertip and found it slightly damp.
He emitted a sound that was half-groan, half-whimper and his entire body shivered under her exploratory touch. “Too good,” he said through gritted teeth.
He dropped to his knees before her. He grasped her hips, pressing her into the mahogany baseboard, the wood cold against her bare bottom. Then he leaned forward to nuzzle her belly. His hands eased between them, gripping her inner thighs to part them.
“Chase?Chase,” she squeaked when his tongue dipped into her curls to flick over her most secret place. “No. What are you—”
“Shh,” he breathed into her apex.
Everything in her went weak. Holding herself upright took every ounce of effort she possessed.
“Part your legs for me, sweetheart.”
She couldn’t. Not with his face—
He grasped one ankle in a gentle yet firm grip and dragged it several inches to the side.
She wobbled, her fingers grappling behind her for purchase.
With no hesitation, he kissed her,there.
Intense pleasure shafted through her, and she heard her own hoarse whimper. Her hands fisted the coverlet, and her head arched back. She should push him away. She should insist he stop this madness.
She couldn’t. She ached for more of the heady torment.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the intoxicating rush of sensation flooding her as his lips suckled and slid over her, as his tongue teased in and out and around the part of her longing to be filled.
He slid his fingers into her, stretching her, then withdrawing to caress her lightly, so lightly. Faster, then slower, then faster again his lips and tongue and fingers danced over her, heightening her desire until her insides went molten hot.
So close, that shining pinnacle of delight was so close. Her entire body trembled as her inner pressure built. “Chase,” she pleaded.
“Now, Amelia,” he purred, his lips brushing that most deliciously sensitive place enveloped at her apex.
Delight arced through her. “Yes.”
“Let go for me, darling.Now.” He closed his lips closed over her and suckled.
