The Wallflower Wager - Tessa Dare Page 0,46

her calf, over her knee, and up the sensitive slope of her thigh, until he cupped her mound in his palm. She gasped at the shock of pleasure. His fingers caressed her gently, stroking up and down the seam of her sex, teasing her with light passes until she was breathless.

She reached between their bodies, feeling for his trousers buttons and tugging at them with eager, inexpert fingers. At last, his placket fell open, and his erection sprang into her hand. Hot, hard, and heavy. She explored him the same way he touched her—skating her fingertips up and down his length, marveling at the silky softness of his skin and tracing the intriguing, yet entirely unfamiliar contours.

“Let me see you,” she whispered.

He rose up on his knees, and his male organ jutted toward her.

The dark hair on his chest arrowed straight toward it, like a signpost indicating a point of natural interest: this way to the manhood.

As if it could be missed.

Rude, large, framed by dark hair, and impressively male. No surprises, really. It simply looked like a part of him. An intimidatingly large part of him, considering what was about to occur and where she hoped he would put it. But it wasn’t foreign or frightening. As was the case with all the other parts of his body, she found it bold, strong, unabashed in its nature, and arousing in the extreme. One more facet of a man she was coming to know and hold dear.

Perhaps even coming to love.

She curled her hand around his shaft, stroking up and down his length—the way she’d seen him do in the inn. He winced, but in what seemed to be a good way. He permitted her only a few easy strokes before pulling her hand away.

“Any more of that, and this will be over before it’s even begun.”

“We can’t have that.”

He shucked his trousers, tossed them aside, and returned to her, covering her nakedness with his body and settling his hips between her thighs. She arched against him, silently pleading. Once again, he made her wait.

He kissed her neck, suckled her breasts.

He reached between her thighs. “Let me kiss you here.”

“Why?”

“Mainly because I suspect you’ll enjoy it, and I want to give you pleasure. If you climax now, the pain will be less later. But also because I truly, deeply, very very much want to taste you.”

She smiled. “Then by all means.”

He ducked his head, and his whiskers scraped against her inner thighs as he settled between them. His broad shoulders pushed her knees apart, and he worked both hands beneath her hips and lifted, tilting her to the most favorable angle to receive his kiss.

For a moment, the intimacy was too much, too uncertain. But when she heard his deep moan of satisfaction, her hesitancy disappeared.

His tongue glided up the seam of her sex.

Oh. Oh, God.

She gripped the pillows on either side of her hips, sinking her fingers into the tasseled brocade.

The fireworks overhead were nothing to the sensations exploding through her with every pass of his tongue. He parted her with his thumbs, opening her to his explorations.

He centered his attention on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her cleft and worked it with his nimble, flickering tongue.

Penny’s head rolled back, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to his erotic talent and the delicious, mounting pleasure. She twisted her hand in his hair and arched against him, seeking more contact, more joy. Climbing higher and higher, until she was dizzied and wary of looking down.

The pleasure rocketed through her, exploding into sparks of bliss. He rose up on his knees and took himself in hand, guiding his erection to where they both needed it to be. At the heart of her, where it belonged.

“Please,” she begged.

When he pushed inside her, it hurt. He held her while she breathed, stretched. She sensed his struggle, the tension in his body.

“Are you—” A strangled noise. “Is it—”

In answer, she placed her hands on his back and pulled him deeper.

He moaned. “Penny.”

He thrust deeper, working his length inside her in slight, inching thrusts. With his last push, he buried himself to the hilt, wrenching a cry of surprise from her chest.

“I’m well,” she assured him. “It’s fine.”

“You’re certain.”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

As he set an easy, tender rhythm, the words rocked through her mind like a chant.

I’m well.

It’s fine.

It’s good.

So good.

I’m yours. Yours. Yours.

His pace quickened. He lifted her hips, angling her to take him deeper. His thrusts drove home again and