Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,91
anything else of the courageous spitfire who sprang me from prison?” Then, sinking to his knees, Tynan rewarded Faye by pressing his mouth against her curls and then tasting her as she’d been hungering for since the moment he’d bunched up her night rail.
She cried out, catching that forbidden sound in her fist, her entire body wilting atop the rosewood surface. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she shoved him hard against her and rocked her hips in time to the glides of his tongue within her.
Faye panted, that raspy breath melding with his, filling her ears like a wicked symphony that sent her desire climbing several degrees hotter. He licked her. Lapped her clit.
She brought her legs up, wrapping them about his neck, and lifted wildly into Tynan and his ministrations. “I want… I want…”
“Tell me,” he commanded harshly between each taste of her center.
“To touch you. To see you.”
He froze. Slowly, he lifted his head. His mouth gleamed from the juices he’d coaxed from her body.
Her brow dipped. “Are we stopping?”
Please, say no. She would not survive it if they did.
He straightened, unfurling to his full height. “Do you want to?” he murmured. Freeing her breasts, he ran the pad of his thumb over one of those swollen peaks.
“Please,” she hissed.
“Please what, Faye sweet? Please stop?”
He made to pull his hand away, but she caught his palm, pressing it to the full mound of her breast even as she thrust her chest toward him.
“No!” she cried out. Her face glistening with a sheen of sweat and her chest moving fast from the deep breaths she drew, Faye held his gaze. “Please, never stop.”
Reaching down, he freed the front fall of his trousers, and his member sprang forth, hard and enormous.
Faye had been particular in her interests and in the specific work she wished to do.
She’d never truly understood her elder sister Claire’s obsession with romantic imagery.
In Tynan Wylie’s arms, she knew passion and understood why her sister sketched romantic renderings of couples entwined in wicked embraces.
Tynan’s thick, long shaft jutted toward her, the fat, plum tip gleaming from the tiniest slit.
There was a beauty to the male form, a temptation that proved the rectors had lied to them all about Eve’s first sin. The forbidden fruit was this.
“Second thoughts, kitten?” he taunted, though there was a pained quality to his always harsh baritone.
Tearing her eyes away from that part of him that so fascinated her, she held his eyes. “Never.” Then, reaching between them, she wrapped her fingers around his length. Satin and steel and heat met her palm.
A hiss exploded from between his clenched teeth, and his entire body jerked as if she’d caused him physical pain. Only, he flexed his hips and arched toward her touch the same way her body had reflexively moved toward him.
“It’s so hard,” she murmured, stroking a finger around the plum tip and then up and down the length as that naughty book that had so fascinated her had taught.
His shaft jumped.
Tynan groaned. “You are a siren,” he whispered raggedly.
“I’ve never thought of myself as a siren before,” she said. Anything but, in fact. She was the peculiar lady shunned by ladies and rejected by gentlemen. “I quite like it.” She took him in her grip once more and slowly and steadily pumped him.
Tynan panted, dropping his brow atop hers in an enthralling show of surrender from this man who’d been only cold and cynical when they’d first met. “Trust me, you are, love,” he groaned, lifting his hips in time to her stroking.
The throbbing between her legs grew even sharper, keener, as she continued to work his length. A crystal bead formed on the tip, and she caught it with the pad of her thumb and proceeded to smear that drop over him.
She would never taste passion again. This would be the last time she’d know the wonder that came from lying in a man’s arms.
Nay, this man’s arms.
And she was determined to live out all those forbidden wishes that she’d fantasized over within the pages of that book.
Settling herself on her haunches, she rested her hands upon his thighs, and the muscles of that oaken-hard flesh rippled under her grip.
“What are you—?” His query dissolved into a curse, and he hissed sharply between his clenched teeth as she closed her mouth around his head.
Opening wide to accommodate the size of his length, she took him deep inside until he reached the back of her throat.