The Heir (Gentlemen Rogues 1)

“Lock, I need—” I couldn’t even string words together.

I squeezed very deliberately around his finger, and he cursed again. "Fuck, Saff. You're going to kill me. I have to taste you first. I just need—"

"Yes. God, please, just—"

"Okay, okay, bossy."

I had to laugh at that. I’d never once laughed during sex. Usually I was concentrating too hard, or focused on relaxing, trying to enjoy myself. And because of that, maybe I wasn't in the moment. But this... Lachlan was... Oh God.

With rough strokes, he shifted his weight and then started to peel down my leather leggings.

"Your arse looks amazing in these, just so you know."

I giggled as he tugged them past my knees, and my knickers with them. His double concentration was so strong I almost had to laugh. He was so intent on his task.

When I was fully naked in front of him, his gaze raked over me as if he was unsure where to look first. "I'm going to eat you whole." One hand was on the open fly of his jeans, palming and adjusting himself. What I found fascinating was that he didn't fully take it out. He wasn't eager to have it touched. Instead, he left it in the confines of his pants, depriving me of the view. I groaned at that.

He gave me a lopsided smile that I'd already come to cherish. "We'll get to that. Trust me, we'll get there. I just want to be able to focus. And if he's out, he's going to try and run the show. I want to know what you taste like before I basically lose my last brain cell."

I had to laugh at that. I was pressing my thighs together now, trying to help alleviate the ache, because God, I was desperate for something. Anything.

His big hands scooped my arse then, lifting me easily and scooting me up to the head of the couch. I squealed at the movement, which helped me spread my legs for him. But apparently, he wanted them wider apart because he spread them even further, his gaze on my inner thighs intent. "I want to put every part of you in my mouth, but we'll take our time later, okay?"

I nodded urgently. "Yeah, okay."

"You are going to be the death of me, you know that?"

"You talk a lot."

And then he laughed. It was low and throaty, the best sound in the world. Like drinking hot chocolate next to an open fire on a really cold night. I wanted to encapsulate that feeling forever.

But Lock had other plans because he didn't want warm. He wanted fiery, blazing, inferno hot.

He leaned down then, turning me so one leg was over one end of the couch and the other on the floor, and I was completely open and bare to him. Automatically, I brought my hands down to cover myself, and he caught my wrist. "No. You're stunning. I fucking mean it. Do you understand me?"

I swallowed and nodded. I understood, but it didn't mean I wasn't self-conscious. But when he started kissing up my inner thighs, I forgot about being self-conscious and mostly was trying to will him to go higher.

I did not have to will him to, though, because he was just as obsessed with it as I was. With each kiss, he brought himself closer to my center. And then he ran his tongue from my opening to my clit and moaned deep, as if he was eating his favorite ice cream. In slow motion he kept using the flat of his tongue, licking as if I was an ice cream or a popsicle. I threw my head back, my hands on his hair, trying to force him to hurry up. God, what was that feeling?

It almost felt like he was laughing as he devoured his meal. But he was thorough. When his tongue started to slide into my sex deeper and deeper and he moaned as he ate, I couldn't help it; my leg started to automatically draw in around his ears and he used his hands with a firm press on my thighs to keep me open.

He lifted his head, his eyes nearly feral, his voice barely more than a growl. "You try and close your legs again, and I'll stop my meal. Unless you don't want this anymore."

"Oh no, I want it."

"Good girl. Now lay back and let me eat."

A shiver ran up my spine and I couldn't even believe this was me. And then when he introduced a finger as he was sucking on my clit, he watched me carefully. This time there was no resistance. His fingers slid right in and he closed his eyes, moaning and humming, making me shake. God, I was so close to… something. So close.

When he started really sucking on my clit, I knew. His finger was delving inside, and I slid my hands into his hair, pulling him into me, my hips wantonly riding his face.

With his other hand, he grabbed my arse and held me up slightly so he could have more of me. Oh my God. I was going to die just like this, naked and splayed on Lachlan's couch. Because surely the only thing that could come after something this good was death.

The slam of the orgasm hit my spine so hard I almost choked as I cried out, "Oh my God, Lachlan."

All he did was muffle something appreciatively against my clit. But it washed over me, over and over, the waves of pleasure hitting me as my back arched and my head fell back on the cushion. But Lachlan didn't stop. He kept lapping at me, fucking me with his fingers.

I tried to push his head up, but he opened his eyes and his gaze locked on mine as he shook his head.