Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,101
today when he’d purchased it for her. He’d imagined removing it slowly, teasingly. But now . . . his eyes dropped to her sex, mere inches from his mouth, from his tongue—now it was her teasing him with her wet, tight arousal. And all for him.
The material fluttered, and he looked up in time to see her yank it over her head, the sound of a seam tearing rending the silence.
“Oh no!” Her brow was wrinkled with concern when her head emerged from the yards of blush-colored silk. “I’ve torn it.”
“I’ll buy you another,” he growled. “Now sit.”
She flopped onto the bed as if her legs had stopped functioning.
Gabriel parted her lips with his thumbs and groaned when he saw her tiny pink pearl. He had wanted to work her slowly to a punishing climax, but he needed to taste her first.
She pushed up onto her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“I want to taste you.”
“Wh-why?”
“Did you like the way I just made you feel with my hand?”
Her skin darkened and she swallowed, her breath quickening, making her breasts rise and fall faster. She nodded.
“This will feel even better,” he promised, his thumbs exposing her to his view. “My God, you are so beautiful.” He draped one of her thighs over his shoulder, nudging her other leg. “Open for me.”
She obeyed, and he took her into his mouth.
She gave a guttural cry and fell back against the pillow. Gabriel laved her extrasensitive flesh with care, lightly flicking only her exposed pearl.
In a matter of seconds she was thrusting against his mouth, her movements desperate and demanding: she wanted more. He gently entered her with one finger while his mouth worshipped and his tongue stroked.
* * *
Her brain was stuffed with one thought: he’d purchased a negligee for her. She had come home from the evening to find a large box on her bed, a huge bloodred ribbon around it, and a brief note:
Ya amar, I saw this and thought of you today. Put it on for me and I will take it off for you. G.
Drusilla had never seen his handwriting before. The letters were shaped with a foreign flare and the powerful strokes were like his distinctive personality.
It was the first garment she had ever worn that she’d not chosen. And, oh, what a garment it was . . .
Even with him kneeling between her widespread thighs, she could think only of that. He’d chosen something especially for her—for her body. And now he was—
She threw back her head and released a sound that should have made her disappear with shame. But any embarrassment she felt was swamped by the wave of pleasure that rolled up her thighs, womb, and exploded in every part of her body.
When she thought she couldn’t take the intense, concentrated pleasure any longer, he released her, and his mouth settled on the tender skin of her inner thigh as she orgasmed: as she came.
“Drusilla,” he said into sensitive skin before sucking her hard enough to mark her.
Somewhere during her pleasure a second finger had joined the first inside her, although both were motionless now. “I can feel your climax as you contract around me,” he said, his breath hot on her sex. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
Another wave of lust slammed into her at his raw words and a shocked thought flitted through the background of her mind: what kind of woman found such talk arousing? Shouldn’t she be slapping his face instead of quivering beneath his touch?
He stood up before her, the sight of him driving all other thoughts from her head. He picked her up without any effort and moved her farther up the bed, until she was lying in the middle. Drusilla was not a small woman, but the way he handled her left her feeling delicate and desired.
His red, slick lips curled. “Put your feet flat on the bed.”
It took a moment before his words sank in. She realized, when she tried to obey, that it was impossible to place her feet on the bed without bending her knees.
“Good,” he said when she did so, his hand going to his sash. One tug and the garment fell open, exposing a broad swath of hard body. She let her eyes drop to that most masculine part of him. It was long, thick, and erect. And the ruddy tip, she noticed, glistened with moisture.
Without realizing it, she ran her tongue over her lower lip.