Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

She pulled back from their kiss. "I want," she whispered, already slightly breathless, "you to tell me what you like."

"What I like?" His voice was a gravelly murmur in her ear. "What I like, sweet witch, is to feel your body close tightly about me, all hot and wet and urgent."

"Hmmm, yes. But before that," she insisted. "Do you like this?" Discovering a flat nipple hidden beneath the crisp mat of his hair, she burrowed her head down and licked it-lovingly.

And felt him tense, just a little, beneath her. "Very nice." The words sounded a touch strained. In wriggling lower, she'd slithered over his erection, it was now cradled in her curls, pulsing against the rounded softness of her belly.

"Good." Artfully sliding this way, then that, using her whole body as well as her hands to caress him, she pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses across his chest, down the ridged muscles of his abdomen, interspersing her kisses with well-placed licks and the occasional suck.

Beneath her. his body was hardening, muscles here and there flickered restlessly. Recalling in fine detail all the caresses he'd pressed on her-and which ones drove her the most demented-Catriona decided that what was good for the goose probably worked equally well with the gander.

The sudden hiss of his indrawn breath as, sliding swiftly further down, she curled her fingers about his rigid length, then caressed it with the warm swells of her breasts, suggested her reasoning was sound. Smiling to herself, she slid further yet, deliberately guiding his long length up from the valley between her breasts, along the smooth skin of her upper chest, then up, sinuously lifting her head to caress him with her throat.

Before turning her head and caressing him with her lips.

He jerked; every muscle in his body locked tight. His hands shifted from her shoulders; his fingers sank into her curls. "Catriona?"

He sounded shocked. Inwardly grinning, Catriona was too busy to answer him. She didn't, however, have any real clue what she was doing, how much pleasure he was feeling, so, after kissing, licking and sucking to her own content, she decided to inquire about his.

"Do you like this?" She planted a soft, wet kiss on his pulsing tip.

Richard bit back a groan. "No," he lied. But he couldn't force his fingers to grip her tresses and haul her away.

"Oh. Well, perhaps you like this better?"

He did; Richard gave up and groaned as she closed her mouth, all soft, hot heat, around him. He withstood her torture for two more, exquisitely wracked minutes, before realizing that, no matter that he could tease her to extremis, his own constitution wasn't up to it.

"Catriona-" In an explosive movement, he half-sat-for one fractured instant driving his shaft deeper into her mouth-then he caught her, lifted her, scattering the blankets they no longer needed. They were both burning with an inner heat.

An inner heat that poured over his teased and sensitive flesh as he set her on her knees, straddling his hips.

She blinked down at him. "I was only trying to please you."

He scowled at her; despite the poor light, he could see the witchy smile on her lips. "You please me every time you take me in, you damn witch."

His knowing fingers found her softness, deftly probed, stroked and readied her. It took only one flick to replace his fingers with his throbbing shaft. Gripping her hips, he eased her down, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she slowly slid down and enveloped him.

"That," he stated his voice deep but weak, "is what pleases me the most."

He heard her witchy chuckle, then she rose on him and slid down, clasping him tight again. Sliding his hands about the globes of her derriere, he gripped and helped her rise-and felt the dew spring up beneath his hands as he stroked and caressed.

They settled into their usual slow rhythm; only then did he lift his heavy lids. Small hands braced on his chest, she rode him happily, a serene, definitely witchy, lustfully knowing smile on her lips. Her gaze was fixed on his face, watching, gauging, assessing his response to that ultimate, most intimate caress.

He only just managed to suppress his wolfish grin. He was blessed, and he knew it. "If you really want to please me, one thing you could do is always come to me stark naked, with your hair down." As it currently was, a rich, vibrant corona about her head, rippling fire over her white shoulders and down her slim arms. When he took her from behind, it was like a living veil, sliding sensuously over her back. He loved her hair.

Her eyes glinted; she inclined her head. "Any other requests?"

"Just one. Stop trying to muffle your moans and screams."

She frowned slightly; he smiled winningly and she humphed. "That's all very well for you to say, but it anyone else heard me-well"-she caught his eye and frowned-"it's rather revealing, you know."

He grinned. "I do, indeed, which is why I like to hear them-those little sounds of your appreciation." He gripped her bottom and lifted her high, then thrust deeply into her as he lowered her again. Eyes closing, she bit her lip to hold back a groan. "Like that. They're little sounds of pleasure-and they're precious to me. They're like trophies that I win for pleasuring you." After a moment, he added. "How else do I know if I'm hitting the mark?"

"You always hit the mark," Catriona retorted, her lids still too heavy to lift. "You always pleasure me to oblivion."

"Perhaps-but I like to hear you admit it."

Opening her eyes, Catriona studied his as she continued to move upon him. Then he shifted her, pulling her thighs wider so he could sink more deeply into her, a moan welled in her throat-this time, she let it go. And sensed the real pleasure the sound gave him.