Western Widows

Her skin was as soft as silk beneath my lips and the tips of my fingers, so pale as to be almost translucent. Her nipples were hard little buds against my tongue and she tasted so sweet. She began to writhe in my lap, her hips undulating in the innate feminine way that indicated she was ready for more. But I didn't give her more, only continued with her breasts. Lifting my head, I tugged on the tips with both of my hands, gently at first, then with more pressure, watching her face as I did so, gauging what made her hot.

"You like your nipples played with, don't you?"

"Yes!" she cried, nodding her head.

"Good girl. Now, do you like it when I do this?" I twisted the tip between my fingers, eliciting a sharper bite of pain. Her eyes flared, her mouth fell open yet no sound escaped. "You do." And so I continued to play with them until her body tensed and she cried out my name, her fingers digging into my bare shoulders. God, she was stunning as she came. So sensitive, so carnal. Once she gave in to her needs, she let go with abandon and it was the most beautiful sight—and all I'd done was play with her breasts. She was still half clothed!

I cupped her breasts, soothing the sting of my nipple play with the palms of my hands as she caught her breath. A small smile formed at the corner of her mouth and she opened her eyes. Her skin was flushed a pretty pink that crept down her neck and to the upper swells of her breasts. Her eyes were glassy and lust filled, her body soft and replete. "What...what was that?"

Shit. She'd never had an orgasm before. If Richard wasn't already dead, I'd kill him all over again. We'd been friends, but not showing a woman her pleasure—most especially one's own wife—was sacrilege.

"You came." I let my hands fall to her wrists and tugged the bodice of her dress away.

With her hands free, she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "Came?"

"Let down your hair."

She lifted her arms and pulled pins from the bun at her nape, the long strawberry locks falling like a curtain down her back. Her breasts rose with the motions of her arms and she looked so wanton. Not a hint of shyness was left.

"You had an orgasm and just from nipple play."

"Is that good or bad?" she asked, clearly not recognizing the importance of the occurrence.

"Oh so good. It means you are so unbelievably responsive. Tell me, love, are you wet?"

Once she finished with her hair, she lowered her hands to my chest, ran them absently over me as she spoke. "You mentioned this before. I don't know what you mean."

"Your pussy, love. That luscious flesh between your thighs. I wager you're dripping wet there."

She didn't have to say anything, for I knew from just looking at her that I was correct. How could I be wrong with the way she'd responded so far?

I placed my hand on the warm skin at her waist and lifted her up, moving her off my lap. "Stand up, love." I moved with her so I sat on the edge of the bed with her legs between my knees. "Let's get this off you."

Undoing the last few buttons at her waist, the dress slipped over her hips and pooled on the floor at her feet. Reverently, I lifted a hand to brush over the pale curls at the apex of her thighs, then lower, to slip over the pink lips of her pussy. She was slick and swollen. Ready. Her hands came up to my shoulders to steady herself.

"Oh my," she uttered.

My cock pressed painfully against my pants. This pace, just touching her, learning her, watching her for what made her hold her breath, moan, drip for me was torture. Bliss and torture. As I leaned in to kiss her belly, to lick my way down to her navel, I parted her folds and found her entrance, all hot and slick and tight. The little mewl that escaped her lips pushed me over the edge, from patient to frantic. I pushed her back, making room for me to reach down and yank off my boots, then undo the placket of my pants and have my cock bob free.

Charlotte stood before me, completely naked, her gaze riveted to my cock. It was so hard I could pound nails.

"Oh my," she repeated.

CHARLOTTE

He was so big! That was going to fit in me? I'd seen Richard naked a few times, but he'd been unaroused and flaccid as he'd gotten dressed for the day. This, well, this...Liam was no comparison. It was a deep red color, long and thick, with a broad crown that had clear fluid seeping from the tip. As I watched, it bobbed, curling up toward his navel. I wondered what it would feel like. Hard? Hot? Slick?

"This first time, love, is going to be quick. But we'll do it again and again, all night long." With every minute that passed, Liam's face became harsher, as if his patience, his attentiveness to me was costing him.

"More than once?" That was possible?

He slowly nodded and reached for my waist. "More than once," he repeated as he tugged me off balance, so I fell with a gasp onto the bed beside him on my back.

He shifted and leaned over me resting his weight on his forearm, a hand brushing my hair off my brow as he looked down at me. His eyes bored into mine, pinning me in place just as much as with his body. "But first, I want a kiss. Not a chaste kiss like the one i

n front of Reverend Pick. A real kiss."

I watched as he lowered his head, his eyes on my mouth. When his lips met mine, my own eyes slipped shut, and I sank into the pleasure of the touch. It was gentle yet persuasive, his lips brushing over my mouth as if learning it, kissing the very corner, then nipping at my full bottom lip. I gasped at the slight hint of pain but his tongue darted out to sooth it. Only then did the kiss change, becoming more carnal as his tongue dipped into my mouth to meet mine. It felt as if he were fucking me with his tongue, a prelude to how he'd take me with his cock. My body relaxed, softening as if made with heated wax, becoming pliable for his every demand.