The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,38

of the bed.

Pearl by pearl, inch by inch, he pushed the strand into her, filling her hole with enough pearls to pay a year’s rent on a two-bedroom flat in Mayfair. And she let him.

She lay back as more pearls filled her, too many to count. She lay back and let him push the entire long strand into her. It took time. God knows how long, but she lay there and panted while he did it, panted and pulled at the bedcovers. He saw her fingers nearly tearing the silk as she twisted her hands into the fabric.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Too much. It’s perfect.”

And that was Regan. Enough was not enough. Too much was perfect. He pushed in the last of the loop. Her lips were wide apart, her hole as dilated as her eyes. The small shining white beads were visible inside her, her inner muscles expanding and contracting to accommodate them. He pressed his hand flat over her opening to keep them from being pushed out.

Then he licked her clitoris again. It was so swollen he didn’t even have to hold the hood back to get to the naked organ. Regan’s hips rose in tight and tiny undulations. She was coming undone, utterly undone. Her breathing grew louder, and her head writhed on the bed. She made sounds, lovely pained sounds. She didn’t ask him to stop, instead spreading her legs wider.

He licked her hard. She was long gone now. He thought about stopping—to punish her, to turn the tables. But it would have punished him more to stop licking her, kneading her pulsing little clit with his tongue as she pushed her hips up and into his mouth.

She came with a sudden jerk of her body and a loud cry. Her head rose off the bed, head and shoulders, before she fell back panting, still softly moaning. She went limp and Arthur let the pearls begin to fall out of her body, one loop dangling out a few inches. He caught the loop in his finger—the pearls were damp—and gently he pulled on them, emptying her out. Her vagina gave little gasps, little twitches. He gathered the long string of her pearls into his hands as he pulled them out of her and then she was empty. He stood and gazed down on her, her dress ruched up to her waist, her eyes closed, her body listless and spent.

Arthur pushed his cock into her dripping opening and when she didn’t stop him, he entered her with a stroke. Her cunt was open now, supple and soft against his cock. It was ecstasy to feel her body taking every inch of him without any resistance. He was bathed in heat and wetness. She lay motionless under him, insensate, eyes half-closed, letting him have her. He pounded fast, rutting on her, ashamed of his lack of self-control but not ashamed enough to stop. His thrusts were pistons firing fast and hard and it was only seconds before he started to come. He pulled out. Gripping his cock in his hand, he came on Regan’s neck. Spurts of semen landed white and wet on her glistening olive skin, on her chest, in the hollow of her throat, and each spurt harder and stronger than the last.

When he’d finished emptying himself out onto her, he looked at her, at what he’d done, he decided he’d seen no work of art in the world more magnificent than this woman wearing his come.

“I’ll clean you off,” he said. “Lay there.”

“No,” she said. “Leave it.”

He slid to his knees again and rested his head on her lower stomach. Regan slowly moved her legs, spreading them again. She sat up, still wearing his come and opened her vulva wide open for him. Her cunt was a livid red, almost purple, tender from how hard he’d used her and supple enough to spread out wide as an iris in bloom.

She touched his burning face. “Well done, Brat.”

He kissed her thigh. She dug her hands into his hair and stroked it tenderly. Then she picked up the pearls and examined them.

“I’ll clean your pearls,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I promise.”

She put them on over her head and let them settle around her glistening neck and tits.

“No,” she said. “I think I’ll wear them just like this.”

6

Woman With a Pearl Necklace

Regan sent him to fetch their wine from her office while she cleaned herself—and, presumably, her pearls as well.

Arthur winced slightly as he took the winding staircase. His