of being so wicked and improper had a strange heat beating in her blood. The fact they could be so free…so wickedly licentious and dirty with each other.
“I would be everything you dream of,” she whispered achingly. “Let me be your sweet harlot.”
He groaned at her wicked, wicked words, hunger flushing over his cheekbones with savage intensity.
“Primrose,” he gasped.
She smiled, feminine power and lust twisting through her. “I would hold my legs apart so you can see all that you want. And when you…” she cleared her throat delicately, admitting to herself it would take time to speak so freely without dissolving into blushes. His gaze was on her face, reading her expression. “And when you split my pussy with your cock…,” she said calling for another naughty word which had filled her with sexual curiosity. “I will enjoy every second of it.” And Primrose knew it with every breath in her body, because she soaked his fingers from scandalous words. The deed itself would destroy her.
He moaned, dropping his forehead to hers. "I'm not a small man,” he said, kissing the bridge of her nose. “And I’ll need to stretch your cunt so that you’ll love every second of me owning it…fucking it.”
His explicit words were soul destroying as she got wetter and wetter at each promise of how he would take her. His fingers worked her, one, then two, then three, and he praised her even as he stretched her, preparing her for his ravishment. All her senses were centered between her thighs. The feel of his fingers inside, stroking over the sensitive tissue, stretching her snug channel.
“I promise you there’ll be days I’ll only want to love you sweetly. To worship your body with the gentleness of touches, the softest kisses, and the slowest strokes.”
Though his words were soft, the fingers thrusting in and out of her wet aching center was anything but. His touch was rough, dominating, not making allowance for her innocence or her sensibilities, and she was unable to do anything but submit to the raw lust tearing through her.
“There will be days I will ride your cunt for so long and hard, you’ll feel the sweet hurt days later. I’ll spank the soft mound of your pussy, and I promise you’ll love every filthy second, my sweet.”
She convulsed at his raw words, scorching delight rippling through her core and bowing her back. The stark sensation went on and on, consuming and destroying her with hunger. The muscles of her quim…no, cunt, burned, tension throbbed in her loins, and delightful sensations began to spiral. Her body was no longer her own, it was still familiar, but not under her control.
The entire scene, every word, each touch was scandalous in the extreme. If she were smart, she’d continue to deny him what they both wanted. No…needed. Instead, she reached for her love, threaded her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, and melded her mouth to his, kissing him with wild passion and sensual greed. They kissed passionately, endlessly. Her arms twined around his neck, holding him close, her nails biting into his scalp as sanity slipped further and further away.
He cupped her cheek with his other hand, peppering soft kisses over her lips, then down to her collar. She arched her neck, shivering at the hot sensation spiraling through her. With sensual deliberateness, he unfastened the strings of her nightgown and pushed it from her shoulder, then tugged down her chemise, baring her breast to his gaze. The cold night air kissed her skin, but it did little to calm the fire that burned inside her.
"What lovely breasts you have. Small and pert and tight nipples.”
His voice was awed as though it were she giving him a precious gift.
Trailing his hands down he cupped her breasts, which felt so heavy and swollen with desire. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching and then soothing them with tender caresses of his moistened thumbs. The wind howled, rattling the panes of the windows. The ring nestled between her breasts felt like a searing brand and the sweetest of comfort.
“Do not move from this position,” he commanded tenderly, brushing a kiss over her forehead.
Then he stood and stripped off his shirt, trousers, boots, and drawers until he was gloriously naked. She gasped audibly at the power delineated in every inch of his beautiful body. He was fully aroused, and his penis jutted out, thick and long.
He made his way to her, and she lifted her face to the hands cupping her cheek with exquisite gentleness. Gabriel dragged his thumb softly over her lips. “I want your mouth sucking my cock in tight, wet pulls,” he said, his voice low, vibrating with need. “I can already feel your tongue, I can see how swollen and pink these sweet lips will be when I’m done fucking them.”
The explicit words flamed in her mind. His need for her was so palpable, so intense, she quaked, and his name was a sigh of longing that she couldn’t control. With a smile, he stepped closer, and she reached out and clasped his manhood in her hands. How smooth yet so hard and inflexible and thicker than all the drawings she’d seen in the book. Her thumb and forefinger struggled to meet where she encircled him. An odd sort of excitement and trepidation darted through Primrose.
Gripping her chin with one hand, and his cock with the other, Gabriel guided her to what he craved. Her lips parted as the smooth head of his cock nudged against them. She opened and allowed him to take her mouth in a shallow, provocative stroke. His hands tightened in her hair, his body tensing as a ragged groan filled her ears.
“Suck my cock with your pretty mouth,” he groaned.
His hands tangled in her hair now, holding her close, sliding his cock deep down her throat. The sharp tug on her scalp sent a thrill racing down to her toes.
“By God, you’re lovely,” he praised. “Fuck me with that pretty little mouth, my sweet wanton minx.”
The filthy words felt like a striking force of pleasure directly against her clitoris. A piercing agony of need flamed through her, spilling through her belly and down to that throbbing place between her legs.
“I wish you could see how beautiful you look,” he whispered.
She licked him tentatively, then with more confidence as the walls of his stomach rippled with pleasure, and groans of pleasure and filthy praises spilled guttural from his throat. One of his hands gripped his cock, the other twisted in her hair, but gently. Primrose moaned around the pulsating length sliding over her tongue, reveling in the tenderness, the utter warmth of his touch.
Releasing her hair, he cupped her face, stroking his thumb over her lips. Looking up at him slowly, her breath caught at the stark male hunger in his gaze. With a ragged, impatient groan, he pulled his length from her lips. He went to his knees, hands gripping her thighs and pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. His expression was tight, the flesh drawn over his cheekbones, his eyes narrowed, his lips heavy with sensuality.
“I want you to hook your ankles around my neck and hold my mouth to your pussy,” he whispered staring at her exposed flesh. “Lick you, taste you, drive you mindless with need and want, my tongue driving you to orgasm. My wicked, delightful harlot.”
“Please.” She was almost crying with need. Wanting everything he said and more. Eager to let him feel the same destructive pleasure whipping through her body, she purred against his lips, “Lick my cunt…unravel me with your wicked, naughty tongue. Make me sob your name and scream my pleasure.”