One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

“No,” she breathed. “Not at all.”

Thank the Lord. It would’ve broken his heart to cover any part of her. He nibbled his way over to the jut of her hipbone and traced his tongue there. How different she was. So curved and soft and sweet. So perfect.

He scooted lower, and settled his shoulders between her spreading thighs.

His hands trembled at the sight of her sex, pink flesh peeking between curls. He would taste her there. Something he’d never done. It had always felt too…defenseless. Kneeling before someone, waiting to feel a hand in his hair.

When a shiver overtook him, he shook it off and refused to think of it. Cynthia’s hands were tied, and he could do what he liked.

His hand fit perfectly over the curve of her mons. He smoothed the hair down and watched it spring back up.

“What are you doing?” Cynthia asked.

“Petting you.”

She giggled, her belly shaking with the laughter. He petted again, drawing his fingers farther down as he did. Her laughter stopped on an in-drawn breath. He slid the tip of one finger along the seam of her body.

“Look at you,” he breathed in amazement. Her foot slid against the sheets, and the delicate petals opened. Lancaster was mesmerized as he traced the shape of her.

A tiny moan drifted from her mouth as he stroked her. Her wetness licked at his skin.

Lancaster leaned forward and kissed her.

Heat was the first thing he noticed. Then the sweet ocean taste of her against his tongue. He licked the wetness his fingers had found, and licked again when she gasped and moaned. When he touched his tongue to that little pearl of nerves, Cynthia’s hips jerked away.

“Nick!” she groaned, as he curled his arms beneath her thighs and held her still. Yes, he could do what he wanted, and he wanted this.

It was over too soon. He had only just begun to settle into his task when Cynthia screamed and arched. He felt the spasms of her climax against his lips and licked at the eager wetness.

Though he was painfully aroused, he felt strangely suspended in the moment. Languid and patient as he kissed her plump thighs. He could stay here forever, pleasuring her. Tasting her. Feeling her thigh tremble against his cheek.

But he supposed it might be excessive to keep her tied to his bed for the next few hours. He didn’t like to think of her hands getting numb or her wrists aching.

Cynthia sighed his name again when he rose over her. Her eyes were sleepy and dark. She looked perfectly content to be tied to the bed.

He smiled even as his heart beat harder at the sight of the black fabric. His stomach slid against hers as he lowered himself. His cock slipped easily inside her tight sheath. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.”

She arched beneath him, one hand wrapping around the binds that held her. His entire belly tightened at the sight.

This was his fantasy, the one he’d never dared to think could be real with her. His darkest needs, and she embraced them.

His strokes were deep and true. Cynthia pressed her heels to the mattress to meet his thrusts. Her teeth bit into her tender lip as she whimpered and arched beneath him.

“Yes,” he whispered, watching her arms pull at the restraints. Her fingers curled to tight fists. He took her harder and watched her fingers flex in shock. “Take me,” he growled.

Each of his thrusts pushed a little cry from her throat.

A perfect moment, and yet not perfect.

“Cyn.” He slowed to a stop.

“Mm?”

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, and Lancaster let his body rest against hers. He kissed her gently, over and over again.

“If…” He paused to think if he could do this. She’d let herself be tied down. He could do this. “If I untie you…would you touch me?”