Sutton's Sins (The Sinful Suttons 2)

“Mmm.” She sighed as his right hand joined the left, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her gown. “I feel the same.”

Each day brought them closer, strengthened the bonds that had already joined them. Their love and desire grew deeper.

He moved to the petite line of buttons trailing down her front and began pulling them from their moorings. As he did so, he returned his lips to her throat.

“Your pulse beats so fast, sweet,” he murmured.

More buttons were undone, the twain ends of her night rail parting to reveal her breasts. Her breath was coming faster, her sex pulsing and ready, anticipating what would happen next.

“Because I want you,” she said.

“You do?” He nipped her flesh, his fingers working on the buttons over her belly now, where there was no discernable difference just yet to show their child grew.

But they both knew.

Rafe’s hands were tender as they caressed her there, lingering as they had tended to do ever since she had first divulged the happy news.

“Of course I want you,” she told him, breathless.

“How much?” he asked, his left hand moving to her waist and pulling her neatly against him, so that their bodies were flush.

His chest pressed to her back, and the thick hardness of his cock nestled against the cleft of her bottom. As he asked the question, he pulled the last of the buttons free, making her night rail gape.

“Very much,” she said, still watching them together in the mirror.

What an erotic picture they made, her handsome husband at her back, his mouth on her neck, biting and sucking, the pale mounds of her breasts revealed, her nipples still scarcely shielded as they tented the fine linen, her sex on display, framed by her thighs.

“If I touch your sweet cunny, will it be dripping for me?” he asked wickedly, his caress trailing lower, but stopping short of where she wanted it most.

“Yes,” she said, unable to keep her hips from pumping, seeking his hand.

He kissed her ear, her cheek, and gave her a light pet. Just one sweep of his palm over the curls at the juncture of her thighs. “You are wet, aren’t you, lovely?”

He was torturing her. She wanted his fingers on her, in her. But the game itself was almost as delicious as spending. Rafe was an expert at drawing her pleasure to an almost delirious peak before sending her over the edge.

He petted her again, his touch no more than as if it were a feather, passing over her heated flesh. “I didn’t hear your answer. Is this pretty cunny of yours wet?”

“Yes,” she repeated. “Oh, Rafe. Please. I need you.”

He shifted then, hooking the rung of a low stool with his toes and bringing it nearer to her. “Place your foot on the cushion, sweet.”

She did as he asked, the movement leaving her thighs parted, the glistening folds of her intimate flesh visible to both their gazes. He hooked his thumbs in the fabric pooled on her shoulders and dragged the night rail down until it fell to the floor with a hushed sound, leaving her completely bare. In the mirror, his gaze traveled over her, searing her as surely as if it were a touch.

“Beautiful,” he praised, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “Touch yourself. Feel how wet you are for me.”

Oh heavens. His wicked directive turned the pulsing between her legs into a steady throb. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too, though she would have preferred his fingers to her own. Still, her knees trembled as her hand dipped, unerringly finding her pearl. She strummed over the swollen bud, feeling the slickness of her own readiness on her fingertips. Her touches were hesitant at first. She had never touched herself like this as he watched before, and she found the act both shocking and deliciously exciting all at once.

A soft sound of need slipped from her, and she stopped, fingers stilling as her shyness overcame the need for more.

“Don’t stop.” Rafe kissed her other shoulder, then the hollow behind her ear, his hands caressing paths of fire over her aching breasts, toying with her nipples. “Make yourself come.”

His words sent an answering rush of heat to her core. She licked her lips, wondering if she dared to be so bold.

“Don’t make me beg, lovely.” At her back, he flexed his hips, driving his cock against her bottom. “I want to watch you please yourself.”

His tongue traced the whorl of her ear, and her knees nearly buckled. But he was there, his arm around her waist holding her up, keeping her pressed tightly to his warm strength. She swirled her fingers over her bud, emboldened by his encouragement and the need that was still pulsing inside her. Once, twice, then faster.

“Yes, darling. Just like that,” he praised, nipping her earlobe. “Don’t stop. Look at yourself, so ready and perfect.”