Page 62 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
Imelda didn’t recognize the tenor of her own voice. She didn’t know what to ask for. She didn’t know how to ask him. But she knew that something was building inside of her, something that felt like it threatened to fully pull her under.
And Corin, despite the lack of direction from her, moved right where she wanted him.
His lips butterflied over the swell of her breast, his body slowly lowering before her as he kept kissing down until his lips brushed her nipple. Like his fingers before she jerked, a gasp leaving her as he parted his lips and pulled the peak of her into his mouth.
“Oh my God,” she cried out, her head falling back as he laved his tongue against the impossible hardening of her flesh. “Corin, please, Corin—Ohhhh.”
When his lips left her, she made a noise of discontent, shifting atop the vanity that he had placed her on, seeking something. The air against her nipple was cold, but the trail of kisses that Corin continued to place down the exposed skin of her chest was anything but.
“This,” Corin promised gutturally as his lips finally met the fabric of her dress once more and he lowered himself fully to his knees before her, “is about you.”
What did that even mean?
Corin pulled her dress up further, exposing first her knees, then her thighs, and Imelda gasped all over again as the cold air of the room met the too-heated center of her core. She shifted uncomfortably on the desk again, trying to squeeze her knees together as Corin pushed her skirts up to her middle and moved his hands to grip either of her thighs instead.
“Imelda,” Corin said darkly, his lips at the inside of one of her knees and his eyes smoldering impossibly when she looked down at him. “Do you trust me?”
Oh, God.
Imelda was a quivering mess as she nodded, her legs relaxing just slightly, and Corin seizing the moment to spread them apart.
His lips followed the path up from her knee, teeth and tongue working her flesh until she was shaking and moaning beyond her control.
“Let me show you how much I revere you, Imelda.” Corin groaned, his palms at her knees pushing wider until she was spread before him. “Let me show you what you do to me.”
Imelda sank back against the vanity, her shaky hands turning to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as he lowered his mouth and—
“Oh, God! Corin! Corin, please, God!”
His lips and tongue rolled against the sensitive folds between her thighs, the very tip of his tongue finding that most sensitive spot there at the apex.
“Let me show you how much I love you, Imelda,” Corin repeated against her slick flesh, rolling his tongue up until sight and sound both seemed like foreign senses to Imelda.
That pressure in her lower belly built, pleasure filling her every muscle as she grabbed at Corin’s hair as if it were what kept her centered and present. Like, if she let go, she herself would go tumbling over that cliff that she felt herself falling toward.
“God, you taste better than I could have imagined.” Corin’s fingers joined his mouth, pushinginsideof her, and Imelda felt as if it were too much. “Do you know how many nights I lay awake imagining you? How many tortured nights I felt myself like this only for you not to be there?”
Imelda groaned, her hips pulsing up off of the vanity and into Corin as his hot breath joined the mission of his tongue, teeth, and fingers.
“Never again, Imelda,” Corin promised before pulling her into his mouth and increasing the pace of his fingers. After a few moments, he continued, “I’ll never be without you again.”
The promise, combined with his touch, sent her finally tumbling over that edge, her whole body locking up as she fell off of that cliff and into the ocean of pleasure beneath it.
All she could feel was Corin. All she could smell was Corin. Everything was Corin. Everything led back to Corin and her whole body shuddered with release as she came down and realized that Corin was resting his chin against her thigh, the look on his face one of reverence as he stared up at her.
Meeting his eyes, Imelda couldn’t breathe all over again. But for a wholly different reason. Her whole heart lay there, she realized. In this man. In Corin.
Both of them were too preoccupied to hear the doorknob turn. Or the slow creak of the door right away as it was pushed open.
Chapter 22
Corin hadn’t intended to seduce Imelda. He hadn’t intended anything beyond telling the truth of things to her and offering her his mother’s ring.
Looking up at her, he couldn’t regret it, though.
Imelda looked like some Greek goddess, her hair mussed around her head and her face flushed still from the efforts of her climax. Her dress still hung down her shoulders, the peaks of her breasts glistening above his head. Like a statue, but of flesh instead of marble. Everything about her screamed femininity and beauty.
Her eyes softened as she stared down at him, her breathing evening out, and Corin knew that she felt what he did.
