Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Her lashes fluttered, and she gripped his broad shoulders to keep standing. “Tell me.”

The rough scrape of his evening beard had her shivering as he nuzzled the crook of her neck, and still his thumb ran along her bottom lip. Always touching her. Feeling her. “It is almost pain, this pleasure.” He nibbled her ear lobe. “Only I want to push into it, let it skewer me to the core.”

Closing her eyes, she ran her fingers through his silky hair, the heat of his body warming her palms. A pressing kiss on the tip of her breast had her gasping. He surrounded her with his need.

“And when you touch me,” he said, leaning in closer until his long body rested against hers, “I ache so very sweetly, Eliza.”

On a breath, she opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, his gaze hot with need. Yet his hold on her cheek remained soft, tender. Eliza licked her lips, and he dipped down to taste them again. A smile danced over his mouth. He was playing. Enjoying her. She’d never had a playful lover.

“You truly haven’t felt anything all these years?”

“Truly,” he murmured, preoccupied with stroking her neck, his expression absorbed. “Like silk, your skin is. Only better. I could touch you endlessly.”

“And when I touch you here?” Eliza could not resist; she laid her hand against the hard flatness of his abdomen, and Adam’s breath left in a whoosh.

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. “God, pet me, sweet dove.”

Gently she rubbed his stomach, the action making her sex clench and her thighs draw tight. He leaned against her, his elbow braced upon the wall, and he trembled, his breath agitated. The pained yearning in his expression, his eyes closed tight, was a beautiful thing to behold. It made her bold, and her hand slid lower.

He grunted, his hard cock surging within her grip. Eliza kept a hold on him while her free hand gathered up the loose folds of his shirt and began to tug it free. Deftly, she unbuttoned the front of his trousers. “I find,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth, “myself wanting to touch you in other ways.”

The poor man actually whimpered when she discovered his bare skin. And she smiled, stroking the heated length of him. My, but he was… Eliza’s eyes closed for a brief moment, lust threatening to overwhelm her. When she dared look down, her mouth went dry. Dark and thick and long. The bulbous head wept with impatient need. Eliza swiped her thumb over the little bead, slicking it into his skin, and Adam groaned. Running her fingers along his shaft, she stopped at the tip and squeezed, loving the noises he made in the back of his throat.

He pressed his mouth against her temple, his breath a hot, erratic pant. “More.”

Just that word. And Eliza wanted to give it to him. She wanted to give him the pleasure he’d been denied for far too long. “Lean against the wall.” Her voice was quick and light, as she eased him around. Weakly, his big body shaking, he did as bidden. But his eyes grew wide, his lips parting as she smiled at him and slowly sunk to her knees before him.

He was dreaming. He had to be. Because she’d been in his dream like this – kneeling before him, her slim fingers around his cock, her eyes bright and intent upon his – so many times before. If it were a dream, God help any person who dared wake him.

But then she lightly ran her nails along his length, the sensation so vivid and unexpectedly luscious that he knew it was no dream. She wanted him. Wanted to do this for him. He could hardly account for it. A lump rose in his throat, even as his heart raced and his breath grew short. Eliza. She was everything he’d feared wishing for.

Her pink tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, and he felt it down to the soles of his feet. His hands clenched, and it was all he could do not to push his aching cock into her mouth. Patience. Patience.

As if she bloody well knew how badly she affected him, she grinned. Canty, wee temptress. Gently, she kissed him along his length, and he shook with the feeling. Slowly, he was becoming alive. Dead and untouched for so long, and now this. He wanted to weep. He wanted to laugh.

And then she took him into her mouth.

“Holy God.” Adam arched back and panted, his body trembling and so taut he feared he might snap. Unable to think, he stared up at the dust rafters of the ceiling. God, her mouth. Hot, wet, tight, her tongue slick silk. Heated pleasure raced down his spine and clenched in his abdomen. His knees were weak. She sucked him hard, drawing it out, until her sly tongue flicked over his sensitized head. Something much like a whimper escaped him, and he clutched at the smooth walls without purchase.

He wanted to thrust himself deep into her throat. To fuck and snarl and lose his mind. And he wanted to stay like this for an eternity, with her slowly and wickedly sucking his cock. She drew him back in, then out. In. Out. Adam’s hand somehow found her hair, his fingers snaring the heavy mass and holding on tight.

“More. God… more. Please.”

And, Lord love her, she made a happy little hum that he felt everywhere and smoothed her hands up his thighs. He shivered, swallowed hard. Her slim hand, so very delicate and nimble, cupped his cods. And gave them a gentle squeeze. Adam groaned, heat swamping him. So hot, he’d soon burn up like a fucking torch. He’d been missing this? No more. He didn’t care if he had to beg for it every day of his life, he’d gladly do so. The sight of her, on her knees, eyes closed, her delicate brows knitted in a little frown of concentration, while her pink lips stretched wide around him…

“Fuck.” He was going to come. Hard. Hundreds of years of being denied that singular pleasure, and yet instinct could not be misunderstood.