Page 95 of The Truth About Myths
Isabel laughed and sprinkled his face with water. "Is it such a hardship to serve me?"
He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. Then he placed it atop his cock. Her sharp intake of breath was a clear sign she understood just how hard it was.
"Sophie is an excellent lady's maid, but my princess will see the advantages of keeping me in the position."
"I don't know… Sophie is loyal."
"Hmm." He let go of her hand and leaned over the tub. "But can she do this?" He circled her nipples until they puckered, and then he lowered his hand under the water's surface. A groan escaped his throat when her legs opened for him.
She arched her back, her hips rising to meet him, and he grunted. Impatient now, he made her stand. The outing could wait. When he palmed her thigh and pulled her leg up, opening a path to her core, they both hissed.
Slowly, he tested her wetness with his fingers. She arched her hips into his hand, and Henrique withdrew.
She glared at him.
"You won't tumble me like a common heathen this time, wench."
Water glistened on her skin. Her eyes flashed green fire, and she bit her lip, watching as he folded a towel in two. Gently, he placed the sole of her feet on the tub's rim. With one leg up, Henrique exposed her to him.
"Look at you, so pink and pretty. I think you deserve a kiss." His mouth watered, thirsty for her secret taste. If he drowned in it, he would die a happy man. Holding her hips, he sucked her slowly, allowing her pleasure to build in waves.
She moaned and arched her back. Her flight came swiftly, her sheath clenching against his tongue.
“Please, Henrique, no more.”
He wasn’t ready to let go yet. "One more flight. For me."
This time, she bucked against him, and incoherent sounds escaped her mouth.
He rose and caught her in his arms before she collapsed. He was painfully hard, the exact opposite of his Isa, now soft and languid, liquid fire.
He placed her atop the table, and she blinked at his cock, jutting out against his stomach.
"Can I touch it?"
His pulse sped. "Absolutely not. Cocks are susceptible to yanking, as Priapus might tell if he still could talk. Your hands are deceptively strong." Henrique caught her wrists and kissed the pad of her finger.
His cock jerked to attention.
"He doesn't seem to mind." Tentatively, tenderly, she traced the head and stroked his length.
He held still, concentrating on not spilling in her hands. "He is simple-minded. His mind has a simple goal: to enter you."
Licking her lips, she measured him with her palms. "Though you are more proportioned than Priapus, I still don't understand how you didn't run me through with your mighty sword."
He grinned. "You will make him vain."
"More? Impossible." Her mischievous grin made his heart pound.
Leaning forward, he tasted her smile, licking the seam of her lips. She closed her eyes. He arranged her hair over her shoulders and leaned back to admire her. Naked atop the desk, her skin flushed from the bath, her legs closed primly in front of her—she was his erotic fantasies come true.
"You posed a valid anatomic question. We shall try to answer it." He clutched her knees and slowly opened her legs.
She didn't resist, her gaze following the contrast between his brown hands, so different from the cream of her thighs.
Occupying the space between her legs, he wetted the tip of his cock at her entrance and hissed at the pressure on his spine. He pushed half his length inside her.
She gasped, arching her breasts. He accepted her offer, kissing and sucking the swollen tips.
