Page 152 of Propriety
Her eyes fluttered open just long enough to meet his — and what she saw nearly undid her. Not just lust, but awe. Worship. Hunger. A kind of sacred ruin.
He didn’t rush.
Instead, his fingers circled her clit with maddening slowness, barely grazing, watching how her back bowed, how her hands strained above her head.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me have it. Let me ruin you.”
One finger slipped inside, and she cried out, head pressing back into the pillow, hips lifting desperately. “Shhh,” he soothed, though his voice was anything but calm. He was shaking now, too, pressed tightbetween her legs, watching her unravel. “Tight little thing… Fuck, I want to be inside you so bad. But not yet. Not until you’ve come on my fingers, my tongue — not until youscreamfor me.”
Another finger. A curl of his wrist. He leaned in, lips at her throat again, biting softly, whispering filth against her skin.
Lancelot crept down the length of her body, and she could feel the way he grinned as she continued to moan.
His fingers moved lazily inside of her, just enough to pull every nerve in her body tight. “I know what you need,” he whispered, his head between her thighs now.
It took all of her willpower to keep her legs on the bed.
His breath was hot against her core, agonizing her in all the best ways. His lips closed around her clit, and it was almost over right then.
She bucked off the bed, an indiscernible noise escaping from her mouth. He sucked gently, and she was so overcome with arousal… with lust… that she almost missed the third finger he slipped in, stretching her deliciously.
“Come on, baby,” He groaned against her as her hips jerked across him. She broke — body tensing, head thrown back in a silent scream before the sound finally tore from her throat. He kept going, fingers thrusting, tongue circling, coaxing every last tremor from her body.
Only when she went limp, trembling and whimpering, did he finally stop, pulling his hand free, slick with proof of her need. “Mon Dieu,” he whispered, sucking gently on his finger. “You’ve never been so quick.”
She was still gasping, trembling under him, when his fingers left her. She whimpered at the loss — but then she heard the unmistakable sound of a bed creaking. Felt the shift in the mattress.
Her breath caught.
“Lance…”
“Shh.” He kissed her again, softer this time, but it didn’t ease the heat in his eyes. “You said yes, Guinevere.”
His name was a prayer on her lips.
He pulled her hips down toward the edge of the bed, adjusting her legs so they spread wider for him. “Stay still,” he warned again,voice rougher now, more ragged with need.
She nodded frantically, wrists flexing against the belt above her.
He pressed the blunt head of his cock against her entrance, teasing. Not pushing in. Just letting her feel him. “You’re still dripping,” he growled. “Do you even know what you do to me? What itdoesto me, seeing you like this — bound, begging, mine?”
She could barely breathe. “Lancelot. Please.”
And that was it. That was all it took.
He sank into her slowly, watching every inch disappear inside her heat. A guttural sound tore from his throat, and he gripped her hips hard, anchoring himself as he bottomed out. “Fuck, Gwen.”
She cried out, the stretch overwhelming, glorious. Her legs shook with restraint, the need to wrap them around him, pull him in deeper, but she obeyed. She kept them on the bed.
He thrust shallowly at first, torturous and slow, like he had all night. And then — her hips lifted, need overriding obedience. He stopped.
“You want to break the rules, baby?” he said, voice a growl against her ear.
A nod.
He didn’t stop moving. If anything, he thrust deeper, harder — like he wanted to leave her ruined.
And then his mouth was on her breast again.
