A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,73

than orgasm, she didn’t know, but her sex tightened in response, the subtle action sending yet more distracting sensations rippling through her body.

Deep down, beneath the wits-destroying pleasure, some part of her reeling mind rebelled at being called a girl.

But another part—the greater part—thrilled at his effortless mastery of her body.

“Do you want me to stop?” he offered. His fingers—both the one resting on her mound and the one buried inside her passage—stilled and he held her gently, nuzzling her neck with light kisses and nips.

Honey pressed back against that most fascinating—and still hard—part of him and shook her head.

He gave a growl of approval and resumed his erotic caressing, careful to avoid her too-sensitive pearl, his hands far more confident on her body than hers had ever been.

His thick finger stroked in and out of her virgin flesh.

“Can you take a little more—for me?” he whispered, pushing a second finger alongside the first. He groaned, “God, Honey, you feel so beautiful, I can’t wait to see you.”

She whimpered softly at the feeling of being stretched, preening at both his praise and his touch. Not so deep down she knew that she’d be ashamed by her actions later—by her desperation and her raw need for him.

Later, Honey. You can worry about all of that later. For now, just take what he offers.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

He pumped her steadily, his other hand teasing the tight bundle of nerves that he’d called her bud.

Honey didn’t realize that her hips had begun to pulse in counterpoint to his thrusting until he murmured against her temple.

“That’s right, sweetheart, use my hand for your pleasure.” He ground his erection against her bottom, his hips moving rhythmically. “Yes,” he urged so quietly she could hardly hear, his deft fingers stroking and penetrating, the sound of her own wetness making her squirm with a blend of mortification and arousal.

“Will you come again for me, darling?” Teeth grazed the back of her neck as the shocking words exploded like tiny bombs inside her body.

He curled a finger inside her, grazing some part of her that made her cry out and buck.

A low chuckle vibrated through her body. “Scream as loud as you want, darling, bring down the house.” He stroked her again and again; white lights exploded behind her eyelids and pleasure swamped her, both exquisite and excruciating.

But still he would not stop.

Honey barely had time to recover before he pushed her toward another peak, his mouth rough on her neck, biting, sucking, licking.

“Just one more time for me, Honoria,” he begged, his hips grinding rhythmically against the small of her back, his fingers driving her over the edge.

“That’s right,” he growled against her throat, his body jerking in violent but controlled thrusts. “Come with me.” He stiffened, his arm circling her waist and crushing her while everything inside her surged and spun, pulling her into a warm, blissful darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next time Simon woke up there was pale yellow light coming through the blinds and he was alone.

The cold, sticky feeling against his abdomen told him it had not been a dream; he’d come in his bloody breeches while rutting against his wife.

He smiled as the memory of last night came back to him. Good Lord; touching her had been delicious.

Simon rolled onto his back, his hand going to the placket of his buckskins. He unbuttoned himself, roughly shoving both his leathers and drawers down to his thighs and freeing his aching cock.

He was hard again, just as he always was in the mornings. He wished Honoria were still beside him, but he knew that he’d already received far more than she’d intended to give him. Not that the realization stopped him from wanting more.

Simon brought his hand to his face and inhaled her scent, his smile turning to a grin as he recalled her screams; she had some lungs. They would have heard her in the stables, over and over and over again. He absently stroked a hand over his chest, abdomen, and down to his pulsing erection while he reconstructed the fingering and grinding session he’d shared with his virginal wife.

He hadn’t done such a thing since he was a young male; who would have believed that sex without penetration could bring so much enjoyment?

His shaft throbbed and strained in his fist as he imagined burying it inside her tight body.

“Christ,” he groaned. When was the last time he’d wanted a woman so much? When was the last time he’d wanted anything