Master of Desire (Merlin's Legacy #6) - Angela Knight Page 0,64
staring down at her, spread and naked. She stared back, fighting the impulse to pull at the lace. She didn’t want to tear it. Or maybe I do. Because what would he do?
He slid onto the bed and knelt there, head cocked, his hair spilling around his shoulders in skeins of black silk, one thin braid swinging, weighted with gold. Magic as hell. Slowly, he settled between her thighs as every single wolfy inch of her vibrated with the need to pounce, shove him back on the bed, and fuck his brains out.
As if reading her mind, Conal flashed her a narrow-eyed look. He lifted a hand, aiming it at her thigh. “Are you going to move?”
She bit her lip at the challenge in his gaze. And deliberately twitched one leg.
His palm hit her thigh in a smack that was more sound than sting, and she gasped in sheer lust. Narrow-eyed, he stared as if checking her reaction. Then that broad hand hit her again in five quick swats, each just a fraction harder than the last as he watched her face. She panted, tugged the lace. Managed not to rip it.
Conal nodded in glittering satisfaction and settled between her legs, his face inches from her pussy. And inhaled, eyes closing as if smelling something impossibly delicious. Then he bent his head, met her fascinated gaze with blazing violet eyes, and licked. Flame blazed from the tip of his tongue as he went in search of every hot bundle of nerves she had.
“Conal,” she groaned, her hips dancing against his face. Wanting his cock with a desperation almost vicious in its intensity.
One hand slid up her body, found a nipple, started playing. The fingers of the other hand slid deep into her cunt as he swirled and licked. Fire roared up and blinded her, abrupt and merciless. “Yeah,” he growled against her wet, aching flesh. “Like that. Just like that.”
Fabric groaned, made a ragged sound. His bright gaze stabbed up the length of her body as he lifted his head and snapped, “What did I tell you?”
She froze, panting, blinking. Fighting not to pull at the fragile fabric. Two fingers slid back into her pussy, another up her ass. It took everything she had not to writhe. He settled down to lick and nibble -- and make her scream.
* * *
God, he loved this. Loved the way she tasted, like the very essence of sex concentrated and distilled, filling his head until it seemed he could mainline it like a drug. Looking up to see that exquisite body writhing, fighting so desperately hard not to rip the lace just because he’d ordered her not to. His pretty, badass werewolf had a submissive streak, just as he’d suspected the first time she’d handcuffed herself to his bed. And aren’t I the luckiest bastard in the history of lucky bastards?
Conal was listening to her scream out her third climax when he realized abruptly there was no way in hell he could hold off any longer. He rose onto his hands and knees and crawled up her body, locking eyes with her frantic, begging stare. It made him feel seven feet tall. Bracing on one hand, he reached down, seated his cock between her luscious pussy lips.
“Conal, Conal, Conaaalllllll,” she chanted.
He drove all the way to the balls. The sensation of her swollen cunt gripping him almost tipped him over the edge, but he froze, breathed deep, clamped down. Peeled himself away from the edge. He was damn well going to make her come again.
She stared up at him, her eyes impossibly wide. He lowered his head and kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back, arching under him, her lithe body feeling almost feverish. He slid out, still kissing her, then pushing deep again. She hunched, meeting him, gripping, sliding, so impossibly slick as the pressure in his balls built and built as she made tiny, desperate sounds.
God, so good. So impossibly, incredibly good. No woman had ever felt like this. And it wasn’t just a matter of hormones and the Burning Moon either. He’d had that kind of mindless sex thanks to Siobhan’s magic, and it had never been like this. It had never felt precious. Never sunk all the way into his soul.
“Connnnnnalllll!” She surged up against him, both arms whipping around him. Fabric shredded, but he was barely aware of the sound, too lost in the taste of her mouth, the grip of her impossibly tight pussy.
He let go, coming,