Page 51 of In a Rake's Embrace
“I thought it sounded ridiculous, too. Did you know some women called it plug-tail?”
Thomas could not answer, for the damn woman tightened her fingers around his cock, and rubbed the flared, mushroomed head along her slit.
“Oh,” she gasped. “It feels …good.”
He tensed, gripping her hips with such strength she would likely have abruise. He forced his fingers to relax when she did it again.
“Can I do this and not allow … this inside?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she bit her lips, her eyes half-closed as she rubbed the tip of his cock against her slit.
“It would not be enough,” he hissed, his balls tightening.
“Does it feel good to you, too?”
“Yes.”
“But you need more?”
“Yes, because more feels better.”
“I cannot imagine it,” she gasped, arching her hips.
He stroked down her back, trailing his fingers along her spine. It took all his self-control not to grip her hips tighter and drag her pussy onto his length. Over and over, she tormented him until she found her rhythm and started to undulate against him. His cock flexed against her flesh, the head ruddy and flushed. There were times the soft opening of her cunt caught onthe edge of his cock, and she would whimper, glide upward and return down.
Bloody hell.
This lesson would kill him.
Neither Beanor Ellen had explained that sensual torture was double-edged. The ache inside her sex was sharp and insistent, peaking with each glide of her folds over his shaft. Thomas touched Agatha everywhere. Her breasts were so sensitive that each stroke of his fingers over her nipples caused a helpless moan to slip from her. He looked at her with pure male appreciation and hunger. She looked down and watched as he caressed her throbbing tips to straining redness. “This is too distracting,” she whispered.
“The man who takes you might not leave all the control to you. It is also a pleasure for him to learn your body, even if for his own selfish satisfaction. His hands will not be idle; do you understand?”
“Yes.” She was already desperately wet, for her body knew the pleasure his touch could inflict.
She rolled her hips, sliding her sex over the smooth hardness of his cock. He groaned, sank his fingers deeper into the armrest, and arched his throat. His gaze narrowed, and a hiss escaped him when she rolled her hips again and moved as if slowly riding, incorporating the lessons learned in the eastern dance.
Each rub of her folds over his hard length spiked her arousal, and she became wetter. Agatha drew a deep, shuddering breath, fighting for control. There was an aching, empty sensation low in her belly. She understood enough about coupling to know that she might find fulfillment once he was inside her body. She bither bottom lip when his thickness slipped along her folds and pressed insistently at her entrance. Agatha bore down a little, desperate to be filled but careful not to be too exuberant.
He groaned, and she whimpered at the tight, stretching sensationbefore rolling her hips and unrooting him from the position. Over and over, she teased him, slicking her flesh over his cock, back and forth, up and down. A low, almost burning pressure in her bellywas desperate for release.
“Agatha …fuck…”
Carnal power rolled through her, and she leaned into her roll, brushing her lips against his. Thomas’s arms closed around her back, and his mouth covered hers, hard and voracious. One of his hands slid through her hair, gripping it as his tongue penetrated her mouth. Their tongues dueled with passionate demand, and he groaned deep in his throat, the sound vibrating in her own mouth. They kissed for several moments before he released her with a harsh sound. Her lips felt bruised, yet the sensations throbbing low in her belly were not fright but of alarming want.
“You are so wet,” he groaned.
A sensual smile crossed his lips as he watched her through lowered lids. Yet his jaw was clenched. Agatha realized he was exerting an enormous will not to ravish her. She couldn’t decide if she should be frightened or thrilled.
He gripped her hips to hold her in place, delved his hand between their bodies and speared two fingers inside her sex.
“Thomas!” Agatha couldn’t contain the cry of pleasure that swelled in her chest.
“Ride my fingers,” he said, his voice a dark throb of lust.
Feeling him there assuaging the emptiness urged her to glide up and down instead of the slow, teasing roll. His fingers remained buried deep in her quivering pussy while his thumb rubbed her clitoris. Far sooner than she anticipated, deliriouspleasure swept through Agatha as she shattered, and she rode the sweet wave of ecstasy, trembling and moaning.
