Page 133 of Storm of Shadows
She circles her hips, moaning because that must feel good, before rising up again.
I lean forward and nip at her throat, threading open the buttons of her top and sliding it open. Her tits are a perfect handle of a size, her nipples pink and stiff and delicious. I lean in and capture them in my mouth, swirling my tongue around them, feeling them crinkle further still.
“Your pussy feels so damn good. So tight, so wet, so perfect.”
I wonder why the fuck she ever fought this. All those weeks wasted when we could have been doing this and nothing else.
“Now I know how good you feel, I’m going to fuck you all the time. You’re never going to leave my bed.”
She sinks back down onto me, this time with a little more force and I grunt.
“Yeah, sweetheart, just like that.”
“You’re so …” She screws up a brow.
“Big?” I suggest, smiling to myself. I’ve been told often enough that I am.
“Chauvinistic,” she clarifies. “You say such sexist bullshit.”
“I think you like what I say. I think you like my dirty mouth.” I flick at her nipples, then lick up her neck and capture her mouth with mine, kissing her hard as her movements along my cock become faster, harder, more frantic.
I begin to meet her with a thrust from below every time she slams down on my cock and she lets out little cries of ecstasy, shaking her head from side to side as if she can’t handle just how good this makes her feel, a blush blossoming across her flesh.
“I think you like my words. I think you like my fingers. And most of all I think you like my cock,” I grunt.
And then I’m gathering her up into my arms and lifting her to lie on my desk. I push her down flat and paw at her tits, watching as she arches her back, pressing her breasts into my palms. I fuck her hard, the solid desk shaking beneath her and books crashing to the floor, my bottle of whisky tumbling that way too and smashing into a million pieces.
I want to see her come again. I want to make this good for her too. I press my thumb to her clit and soon it’s quivering and she’s writhing on my desk, ecstasy racing across her face. She cries out and with a grunt, I join her, collapsing over her, my brow damp with sweat.
I find her mouth again. I kiss her deep and slow as the aftermath of pleasure pulsates through my body, from my balls all the way to the top of my head and the tip of my toes. She kisses me back, sucking on my tongue and I find her hands and thread our fingers together. I have no desire to move. I’m still inside her and I want to remain there.
Because now I’ve had her, I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Briony
For a man who claims he doesn’t sleep, Beaufort seems pretty passed out to me. He lies face down on the mattress, arms and legs slung wide, one arm draped over my waist.
I chew on my lip and stare up at the canopy of his four-poster bed.
I can’t deny that that wasn’t anything but good. So good I know I am doomed. Because it was like the sweetest of honeys, the most potent of opioids – one taste and I won’t be able to help myself from coming back for more.
What the hell possessed me to come here tonight? What the hell compelled me to climb onto his lap like that? What the hell was I thinking?
I was thinking how good it would be for him to touch me again, to make me fall apart again. And it wasn’t like I wanted it. I needed it. My body has been craving his touch all week. I am already an addict.
The orgasms Beaufort Lincoln sucks from my body are like thunder and lightning, summer and winter, life and death andeverything in between. Like the molecules of my body, the make-up of my soul, are being rearranged completely.
I sigh and turn my head to peer at his face.
His eyelids are closed, a set of thick eyelashes resting against the curves of his cheekbones; his lips tremor as he breathes in and out, his chest rising and falling.
He looks almost harmless like this, almost vulnerable – as if his body doesn’t possess the power and strength it does, as if his veins aren’t brimming with the shadows he can wield. He may look gentle now – I may have seen a more gentle side to him – but he is dangerous and I have allowed myself to walk willingly into his lair.
As I watch him, his lids flicker open and his silver eyes focus in on my face. He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek.
“Okay, little thrall?”
