A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,107
He grimaced. “I’ve shocked you. You needn’t—”
“I want to.” It was the truth, she did—more than she could recall wanting anything in her life.
In fact, she wanted to please him so badly she frightened herself. “I’m not angry—or frightened. I was just, er, surprised.”
He studied her for a long moment before nodding, as if to himself. He leaned down, kissing her tenderly on the lips. “I’m a bad man for asking these things of you, Honey—it’s not the sort of thing a gentleman requests from his wife.”
“I want to,” she repeated. She shoved from her mind the images of all the women that he’d asked such things of in the past, unable to bear the thought of him sharing intimacies with anyone but her.
She placed her hand flat on his chest and gave him a shove.
He staggered back a step, grinning. “That’s my brave girl,” he praised. And then his lips curled into a savage smile and his nostrils flared. “Strip for me, first.”
***
Simon’s cock throbbed when she instantly complied, the pulse beneath the brutal love bite he’d given her racing.
He was a bastard. He was treating a young—near-virginal—woman like an experienced harlot. But he felt the yearning in her every time he pinched or bit or used her roughly: she was aroused by such play.
So was he.
She tossed the nightgown to the floor, her trusting, aroused eyes staring up at him. Simon wrenched his gaze away from her hard nipples and perfect little breasts and pointed again to the floor. “Kneel.”
She sank to her knees, her lips slightly parted, her gray eyes dark.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, cupping the sweet curve of her jaw with his free hand, pausing his rough pumping. “Kiss it,” he ordered gruffly, squeezing his shaft until liquid beaded on the tip of his crown. “Taste me.”
She didn’t hesitate and Simon felt shallow, rapid puffs of air on his prick as she leaned closer, her lips parted to take him. The urge to seize her hair and give free reign to his savage passions was strong. Only by leashing his lust was he able to keep himself under control.
And it was all worth it when her delicate pink tongue flicked his weeping slit.
“Oh God, Honoria,” he whispered, his body shaking.
When she pulled back, a strand of clear liquid connected her tongue to his crown.
Simon groaned as his head fell back; he was so boneless with lust that merely standing was a challenge.
Slender warm fingers closed around his hand and lifted it off his cock.
“Like this?” she asked.
He swore his head weighed a thousand pounds as he lifted it to gaze down at her.
She’d made a fist around him and was stroking; it was a beautiful bloody sight.
“Yes, just so—a bit harder,” he encouraged, sucking in a breath when she flexed her strong fingers. “Just below the crown is the most sensitive part. Urgh, yes, very good,” he praised, letting her get the feel of him for a moment.
And then he said, “Put me in your mouth while your hand works my shaft.”
Her already parted lips opened wider in shock, her hand freezing in mid-stroke.
Simon chuckled, running a finger across her full lower lip. “I want to see you take me.”
She shuddered, her eyelids fluttering but not closing.
“Open,” he urged, “and lick your lips. Yes, just like that.” He smiled as she swallowed several times and then leaned toward him, her wet lips stretching to surround his swollen crown, her eyes never leaving his.
If Simon had seen anything more beautiful in his life than her pouty lips wrapped around him, he couldn’t recall it.
“Ah, Christ,” he swore, his body shuddering as he forced his hips to remain still, gritting his teeth as she explored him rather enthusiastically. Her hand had stilled, but he didn’t give a damn. Watching his thick shaft fill her mouth was better than a gamahuching from the most skilled courtesan in the world.
Her tongue caressed from root to tip, flicking the sensitive underside and he knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain control.
Simon groaned. “That feels too good, love.” He withdrew and grabbed her beneath her arms, lifting her onto the bed. The action painfully stretched the scars on his left side but he didn’t give a damn.
“Hands and knees, darling,” he ordered, reaching for her slim hips and effortlessly flipping her onto her front. He hooked his hands beneath her and pulled her hips up, laying his hand between her shoulders and pressing her until her head rested on the bed.