it. “Yes. Into my lap? Also yes.” He kissed his way back up to her breasts, those deliciously pink nipples jutting like ripe offerings he could not help but to accept. “And into a bath. Or a library.” He sucked her nipple until she moaned. Kissed all the way to her throat, where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath her silken skin. “Mayhap a kitchen…” Tom kissed her ear, settling himself between her thighs. “Or a carriage. Do you know? I have never made love in a carriage.”
“Mmm.” She cupped his face, gently pulling his lips from her jaw so they faced each other. Her gaze plumbed the depths of his, refusing to allow him to hide from this moment of raw, real intimacy. “Thank you, Tom.”
“You need not thank me for pleasure, darling.” He wondered if she had experienced so little in her life and that was the reason for her gratitude. “Pleasing you pleases me. I am a selfish man, in that way.”
“Then I am selfish as well,” she told him solemnly. “For I want nothing more than to feel you inside me again. To be as close to you as I can be.”
Her words rushed over him. Filled him with a renewed sense of blistering need.
He lowered his head, bringing their mouths together. Kissing her slowly, deeply. Allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. The seductive musk of her mingled with the citrus of dessert, with something indefinable that was simply Hyacinth. It was potent and carnal and real.
Licking her cunny had left him in a raging state, his cockstand and ballocks drawn tight with the need for release. Prolonging this torture for either of them was no longer possible. Tom guided himself to her entrance, where she was hot and dripping, and thrust inside.
As before, the feeling of Tom inside her was nothing short of miraculous.
He was thick and long, filling her. The rapture of it was almost too much for her to bear. After he had brought her to spend with his clever mouth and fingers, every part of her felt as if it had been bathed in fire. She thought she might burst. Or combust. Or melt. Or cry.
There was something monumentally heartbreaking about his big body atop hers, his cock lodged deep within her. Heartbreaking and wonderful all at once. When he would have withdrawn, she wrapped her legs around his waist like a shameful hussy, clutching him to her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into the corded muscle there.
“Not yet,” she begged, breathless. “Stay here just a moment.”
She wanted him throbbing and huge inside her. Wanted to savor this seduction, so thorough and different, so tender in a way she never could have expected. Tom cared about her pleasure. He worshiped her body. He never looked upon her with scorn or disgust. He did not ill use her. The difference was so stark, it brought tears to her eyes.
And to her shame, they seeped from the corners before she could banish them, trailing tracks down her cheeks.
Tom caught them with his lips, kissing them away, pressing his forehead to hers. “Why tears? Have I hurt you, sweeting?”
“No.” She swallowed, trying to find the proper words, a way to explain just how he had set her free. “Quite the opposite. You make me feel things I have never felt before.”
Not just desire, but something far more potent. Something indefinable yet profound.
He kissed her mouth. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if she were the most precious gift in his arms. “I will stay like this forever if you wish it. You feel like heaven.”
He felt the same to her. Better than heaven. He felt as if he were a part of her. And this passion between them—it felt pre-ordained, as if it had always been meant to be. Impossible as it seemed, and as much as the rational part of her scoffed at such a notion, there was no denying the rightness of this man.
She kissed him again, their tongues tangling, before she relaxed her hold upon his waist, her feet going flat on the mattress, the bare soles finding purchase on the luxurious scarlet bedclothes.
“Make love to me,” she told him.
“With pleasure.” He kissed her, and he began to move. His hand anchored itself on her hip, guiding their bodies, as they found their rhythm together.
In and out of her until she thought she would swoon from the delirious pleasure of the friction. Each time he sank back inside, she swore