Queen Sized - Jessa Kane Page 0,8
my honor?”
“It’s not a question of honor, it’s a question of skill.”
Lord, why can’t I seem to stop digging my own grave?
When I expect him to react with affront, however, he only nods with conviction. “By demanding better from me, you prove what I already knew. You were made for a fucking king.”
Without taking his eyes off mine, he slowly unties the bodice of my dress, freeing the laces that keep my bosom plumped in my neckline. But with the loss of support, the material of my dress sags and reveals my large breasts clothed only in moonlight.
“Dear God, beautiful Gwen,” he says gruffly, going down on his knees, taking my breasts in his large hands and kneading them reverently. “You are without equal. Sent to me from God himself.”
Without his erection to caress, I no longer know what to do with my hands, but they spear into Corbet’s hair when he guides a nipple to his mouth and molests it with his tongue. Raking it up and back until I’m whimpering. Eyes glittering up at me, he sucks the stiff peak past his lips and pulls on it deeply, his hands gathering the hem of my skirts, revealing more and more of my legs. But I can’t seem to form the word stop. Not when he’s creating this…this magnificent tug between my legs that promises something magical.
Something I’ve never known.
“I will see to your pleasure first, woman,” Corbet rasps, his mouth sliding across to my opposite breast, wrapping his warrior’s mouth around my puckered nipple and groaning, suckling it atop his tongue, before letting it go reluctantly. “Then we will discuss mine.”
I’m far more naïve than I realized, because I think he means to drive me to a climax with his mouth on my breasts. It takes the cool night air kissing me between the thighs to realize there is more. Oh, so much more.
With my skirts wrapped around one fist, Corbet pulls down my underthings with the other and makes a hoarse sound, pressing his face to my naked womanhood. His broad shoulders pin me to the stone side of the mountain, my hands scrabbling on either side of my hips for some kind of anchor. Or support. But there is nothing, so when his tongue delves between my folds, there is nothing to grasp but my own hair. Nothing to do but sob at the incredible fuss of awakening nerves, the coiling of hunger in my belly.
“Corbet,” I push through my teeth. “You mustn’t…”
What?
Mustn’t perform this act I didn’t even know existed?
Mustn’t stop?
Yes, the second option. Definitely the second option, I decide definitively, when his tongue meets a very sensitive spot at the apex of my valley, his breath hot, his throat making rough, hungry sounds as he worries it, lapping at it, pressing firmly and batting it. He presses my bunched skirts to my chest and I take them without a word, my neck losing power when he uses his newly freed hands to palm my bare buttocks, yanking me forward toward his mouth and licking, licking, licking until I’m sure my legs are going to collapse.
But no, I hold myself up because there’s a surge of satisfaction approaching.
It’s almost terrifying, this rapid gathering of pressure in my loins, but I bite down on my lower lip and prepare to be battered. And I’m driven toward it faster by Corbet’s groans, by the hands roughly massaging my backside, the fingers that dare to slip between my cheeks and tease that forbidden place, ownership in every masterful rub of his finger.
The storm breaks and I’m thrown up against the rocks, bliss barreling into me from all sides, my flesh clenching, back arching violently, my cries echoing off the yonder loch. I’m shaking and I can’t stop, can’t stop the incessant pulsations holding my sex hostage. Nor can I do anything about the moisture that coats my folds and turns the insides of my legs slippery.
When I can finally catch a decent breath, I look down to find Corbet riveted by the sight of what he’s done, his mouth damp from my pleasure. Eyes heavy with lust.
“I will have this perfect little cunt for my own,” he says thickly, climbing to his feet and laying a firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me down to my knees. And I go. Willingly. Aching to give him the same relief he’s given me. “I’ll respect your wishes and not rut you tonight. But it’s coming, Gwen. I’ll put you on