What She Craves (15 page)

B
loody hell, he had turned into a milksop. His father had always said he possessed too many of his mother's qualities.
Painting is effeminate. You will fence or box, boy.
Quite. He rolled his eyes.

She snuggled closer into him as he strode up the stairs. Her hair, smooth against his face, tickled his hands about her body. He needed to convince her to stay. But how?

Turning the corner, he walked into his bedchamber and shut the door with a kick from his boot. He strode across the blue and gold carpet and deposited her on his large bed, wanting nothing more than to see her blushing body against the deep blue silk and linen each night. He inhaled a steadying breath.

She inspected the room lit by the candles his valet left burning for him. “This is beautiful.”

“Indeed.” If she only knew he referred to her presence here. He shouldered out of his coat and tossed the dark gray wool on the chair by the fire.

“And the paintings.” She stood and walked to the gold frame above the fireplace. “I wish I could see them better.”

His heart constricted. The painting was of a young woman sitting beneath a spring flowered fruit tree while a kitten played with the ties to her bonnet. He had painted the scene when he was twelve. “In the morning you can search the house until your desire to do so wanes.”

She smiled but said nothing. She still hadn't agreed to stay the night or to stay for longer.
One step at a time, chap.

“You will stay the night, lovely?”

“As you wish, sir.”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me sir. You sound like one of my bloody servants, and I would never bed one of them.”

Her lips curved up into a mocking smile. “So you do have principles?”

He chuckled. “None where you are concerned. Please call me anything but sir.”

“My Ape, then.”

A laugh burst from his chest. “Your ape; well, ape is better than sir. And at least you used
my
.” He winked.

A light knock came on the door to his dressing chamber, and his valet slid his head inside the room, staring at the floor. “The water is here, sir.”

A smile tugged the corner of his lip. “See, no sir.”

She laughed, a girlish sound that broadened his smile.

“You have a pretty laugh,” he said as he walked to the dressing chamber door and stepped inside. She would follow without a doubt.

“You may leave, Jimmy. Have a good night's rest and don't wake me in the morning. Not for anything.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Cora's laughter bubbled up from behind him.

“Every time I hear your servants say sir, I will no doubt giggle.”

He turned around and her lips settled on his, sucking his breath from his lungs ever so sweetly. “Mmm.” His hands wrapped about her naked waist, and he kissed her back, taking his time to appreciate her. He would not rush this.

He ran the backs of his fingers along both her cheeks, then slid them into her hair. Their tongues coiled about each other. His muscles shook and his head spun. He needed her.

Scooping her up in his arms, he twisted his waist and dropped her into the steaming tub with a splash.

“Oh…It's hot.” She scrambled to get out.

“Indeed.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Now sit back down so I can wash you.”

She did so, sucking her breath in between clenched teeth. He drew his shirt out of his pants, showing her a hint of his flesh, then pulled at his cuffs. He slowly removed his arms from the sleeves and pulled the linen over his head.

She giggled. “You seem to be having difficulties. Would you like my help?”

Her voice was deep, and as he turned toward her, his breath caught. She lay stretched out in the tub, the water reaching the peaks of her nipples. A warm red flush graced her body.

“Indeed.” He strode to the tub.

Her wet hands rose from the water and butted his knees, then trailed up his thighs. The touch lingered, caressing the hardness of his ridged arousal. His blood hammered through him. Her fingers grazed his stomach as she deftly undid the buttons of his flap. He tried not to jump, but his muscles sprung, awaiting the tug of her fingers across the sensitive skin of his cock.

Cinching the top band, she pulled his trousers down, popping his sex free. She leaned forward and wrapped the length in her hand. Sliding the skin forward and back, a drop of seed expended from the swollen tip. She stared at the pearl of dew, then stuck her tongue out and touched the hot tip, lapping the honey off him.

His eyes widened. “The devil.”

Her tongue circled the head, and then his length disappeared, sunk into the hilt in molten heat. His hips jerked as she pulled back to the tip and swirled the ridge with her moisture.

“Mmm. You are as sweet as I imagined.” Her eyes half closed, she licked her lips.

“Sweet, eh? Never heard that before. If you—”

He sucked in through clenched teeth as she swallowed him back into the sultry haven all the way into her throat. She was good. His sack pulled close to his body, spending more arousal into her mouth. If she kept larking him, he would choke her with an explosion of seed that had built up throughout this night.

He laced his fingers into her hair, and when she pulled back to the tip, he stepped back, popping his penis from her mouth. He stood, cock bobbling as he stared at her amazing red tongue as she sensuously licked her lips. She smiled like the skilled woman she was.

The devil, he was going to regret not allowing her to finish, but he needed to wash all the other touches from her body. To start anew. An ache settled in his sack. He would fuck her soon.

“I wish to wash you, Cora.” He picked up the pitcher from the nearby stand. “Close your eyes.” He poured a third of the warm water over her head. The water ran down her mane in streams into the tub.

He poured soap from a bottle into his hands. Starting at her scalp, he massaged the bubbly slickness into her hair and worked his way down the length to the ends. She moaned, sloshed back into the tub, and closed her eyes. The process took a while, but the time was worth it. The look of contentedness, of utter relaxation on her face, was worth delaying a fuck. He rolled his eyes. What happened to him? Milksop.

He shifted to the side of the tub and worked the lather down her neck, stopping to feel her beating pulse. The slow rhythm slid through him like a homecoming. Her muscles were fluid relaxation, and her eyes remained shut.

Small moans came from her lips as his hands washed her arms, stopping to rub each finger, her breasts. He watched as they pebbled anew under his soapy touch, and her stomach muscles jumped. Beautiful. Her body, her reactions to his touch, all perfection.

His hands dove deeper into the water and extracted her foot. The tiny toes so perfectly proportioned, the skin the softest he'd ever touched.

He rubbed every inch of her, letting his touch know her. Feel her. His fingers traveled up her thighs to her cunt and parted the folds. Her legs opened wide to him, knees braced against the edge of the tub; he thrust his finger into her opening and pushed deep. Surely she used something. A sponge or herbed cloth. No women in her profession would have attended the Hell Knights without. His fingers grazed a hard surface—a lemon half, cupped to the entrance of her womb.

His breath wavered in and out. “Cora.” He wanted to remove the barrier and fuck her, damned the consequences, but he wouldn't without her permission. She needed to want to take this risk with him.

“Mmm.” Her hips shimmied back and forth, riding his fingers.

“May I, Cora? May I remove the lemon?” He stared at her face, an expression of tranquility changed not one whit because of his question.

A smile tugged her lip. “Yes.”

His heart beat in his throat as he pushed his fingers back into her sheath hard, pressing to the entrance of her womb. Finding the edge, he slid a finger beneath the lemon and popped the barrier from the opening.

His cock swelled. He would thoroughly coat her with his seed. One finger pushed the crescent down through her sheath. The lemon half peaked her opening and she grimaced; then she sighed as the fruit popped out and floated to the tub bottom. He thrust his finger back into her and rubbed the walls of her cunny, washing the last of the lemon from her body.

When he finished, her eyes stayed closed and her breathing remained deep. She slept or was damn near close. He reached into the tub, wrapped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her from the tub. Water fell in streams from her body and she shivered.

“I'll have you warm in a moment.” He strode back to his bedchamber and deposited her on his bed.

Her eyes opened sleepily.

“Thank you, my ape. No one has ever washed me. It was heavenly.”

He smiled at her endearment. Her ape. Where did she get that name from? If anyone else called him a monkey, he would have taken offense, but the way she said it—with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows, a curved lip, and a spark in her eye—heated him from the core.

He stared down at her on the bed. “Up on your hands and knees.”

She instantly obeyed him. His tongue slid across his dry lips. Her beauty left him spinning. All he wanted was to sink into her from behind. The kneeling posture displayed the female form perfectly for futter. His hands could access her breasts, her clit, all while he watched his cock spread her lips and penetrate her pear-shaped swells. He wouldn't last long, not after this night.

Gripping her hips, he caressed her shape as he pulled her toward him. The bed he had custom-made for his height, for this act, so his phallus stood at the correct height to enter her. His hands ran up her back, over her shoulders, fingers trailing farther up her neck to brush her cheek.

“Rupert. Can I kiss you once before…before we start?”

“Indeed.”

He leaned forward and she turned, flipping onto her back. His arms braced the sides of her and shook from the desire in her eyes.

“You're beyond words, Cora.”

Her hands rubbed his shoulders up to his neck and framed his face as her head pressed up for a kiss. “And you, my ape, call out to me.” Her warm breath mixed with his as their lips raked across each other. Nipping and gasping, they drank each other in. Cora…He would finally have her.

Pulling him down on top of her, she spread her legs about his hips. Her moist petals dampened the hairs of his sex, and she arched her hips as their tongues thrust in and out. Damn, she tasted heady. His body caught fire as, like a sinking ship, he lost himself in her storm.

His hands ran down her sides, needing to caress every bit of her soft form. They twisted, jerked, and urgently rubbed every bit of each other. To slow their fever, he braced his hands on the bed and pushed away from her body, but damn it, she held firm to him, drinking in every caress and wantonly demanding more.

He had no control. He didn't care. Fucking her would be nothing like all the others. They would come together as one. Not him taking his pleasure, but giving and receiving.

Muscles shook as she slid her hips up and down him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, begging him to do the same with his cock.

His blood pounded through him, pulsating his body as he drifted in light-headed arousal. Each tug, rub, and caress of her body spent more of his essence onto her skin. The wetness between her thighs increased, and she moaned into their kiss.

Blister it; he needed to feel the balmy heat on his cock. His knees gained purchase, and he edged back, allowing his phallus to slide between her legs as his fingers found her nipples.

Good God, he needed to be in her. He struggled, shifting his hips back and forth to find her opening with the head of his cock. Scalding wetness slid along his prick and he stilled. He had found his home.

She nipped on his tongue and a contraction of her womb pulled at the head of his cock. His eyes rolled behind his lids in sweet oblivion. He pushed in. The flesh, moist and warm, gave way to sheath him.

He clenched his teeth, trying to slow his rising seed.

Her hips jerked up, and pain ripped up his back as her nails dug deep. He pulled back to the tip—forget slow; he needed her—and lunged into her slick welcoming cunt, sliding their bodies across the sheets.

She arched her hips to him. The molten pull of her cunny clasped his hardness, milking the essence from him. He bucked into her, encasing himself again and again, desperate for her to join him when he came.

The muscles of his stomach tingled. His sack pulled closer to his body. Her oiled flesh slid, pulling him to the brink. He slowed his stroke, probing deeper, harder, pressing to the entrance of her womb.

“AAAHHHHH,” he cried out, the first of the relieving bursts of seed erupting from his body and coating her womb. His shout echoed as spurt upon spurt flooded her, slickening her sheath, his cock, and oozing out onto his sack.

His muscles shook, uncontrolled, and she thrashed beneath him. Grabbing him hard with her legs, her fingers scraped frantically up his back.