‘Higher,’ he encouraged tightly.
Bea’s hands trembled as she slowly pulled her nightrail up over her waist and breasts, her legs starting to shake as she heard his harshly indrawn breath as she removed the garment completely, dropping it down beside her robe as she stood naked before him.
‘How beautiful you are,’ he murmured as he sank to his knees in front of her, his large hands cupping both her breasts as he drank in his fill before slowly leaning forward to suckle one of her aching and engorged nipples into the moist heat of his mouth.
Bea reached out to grasp his bared shoulders as sharp pleasure engulfed her. She was afraid her legs would no longer support her if she didn’t. His chest was bathed in firelight, warm and dry bene
ath her fingers, and she could feel the play of muscles beneath his skin as Griffin caressed her.
Bea had never dreamt that such pleasure existed as that created by the complete intimacy of having Griffin on his knees before her, his bared flesh beneath her caressing fingertips, her aching nipple in his mouth.
The pleasure intensified as he now drew hungrily on her swollen berry, the fingers and thumb of his other hand stroking and squeezing its twin, and sending waves of heated pleasure coursing through Bea’s body straight down to between her thighs.
Soft moans began to penetrate the silence of the room, and Bea realised they were her own as one of her hands moved to clasp the back of Griffin’s head, her fingers becoming entangled in the dark thickness of his hair as she held him to her, never ever wanting this pleasure to stop.
Wanting more.
But having no idea what more there was.
Griffin looked up at Bea as he felt her restlessness; her eyes were closed, long lashes resting on flushed cheeks, her lips parted slightly as she breathed raggedly, her throat arched in pleasure as she thrust her breasts forward.
He lightly caressed her waist as he slowly released her nipple from his mouth.
‘Griffin!’ She looked down at him, need shining brightly in the feverish glow of eyes.
He took a few seconds to enjoy the sight of her engorged nipple, so moist and red and swollen from his suckling, before his gaze moved lower, his hands now resting on her hips as he held her in place before him and gently nudged her legs apart with his knees.
She was so aroused. For him. Because of him. Because of her desire for him.
‘Griffin?’ Bea’s voice quivered her uncertainty as she watched his long fingers gently part the ebony curls between her thighs before he once again lowered his head towards her.
He glanced up at her, so close now the warmth of his breath brushed softly against a part of her that felt swollen and aching. ‘Do you trust me, Bea?’ he prompted huskily.
‘Of course I trust you.’ If she did not trust Griffin, then she could never, would never, trust anyone again.
‘Then trust me now.’ He blew delicately against that swollen ache between her thighs, causing her to shudder and tremble with the pleasure of that caress. ‘Do you like that?’
‘Yes,’ she groaned weakly, fingers now digging painfully into his muscled shoulders. Although Griffin seemed unaware of any pain.
‘And this?’ He slowly lathed the rough length of his tongue against her swollen flesh.
‘Yes!’ Bea’s cheeks suffused with embarrassed colour at the intimacy even as she rose up on tiptoe as the force of that pleasurable caress ripped through the whole of her body.
He moved back slightly before taking her hand and tugging lightly until she sat down on the rug beside him. ‘I will not hurt you, Bea,’ he assured her gruffly. ‘I will never do anything to hurt you or endanger you.’ He cupped her face in his hands before his lips gently claimed hers.
Bea was so befuddled by the end of that long and satisfying kiss that she offered no further hesitation as Griffin pushed her gently down onto the rug before parting her legs and settling the width of his shoulders between them.
She groaned low in her throat at the first touch of his tongue against that swollen ache between her thighs. Her hands fell limply to her sides, eyes closing as she became lost in the pleasure of that moist and rhythmic caress. A pressure began to build inside her that she did not understand. Did not need to understand. She needed only to feel, as Griffin’s hands cupped the cheeks of her bottom to tilt her up to him, like a sacrifice on an altar.
‘Griffin!’ She gasped as the pressure built and built. Until it grew so high, so intense, she felt as if her whole body might explode from the joy of it.
Until she did explode, deep inside her, the intense pleasure radiating outwards as well as inwards until she lay weak and gasping.
‘Wh—what was that?’ she gasped weakly.
Griffin moved to lie beside her as he slowly licked her juices from his lips. ‘The French call it le petit mort—the little death,’ he translated huskily.
Bea certainly felt as if she had died and gone to heaven and she was sure that she had never experienced pleasure like it.