knelt between her legs, his broad shoulders nudging at her knees, spreading her wide open to his hungry gaze. He grazed the top of her mons, his fingers stroking the downy mass, causing her to shudder, to gasp.
He slid his fingers into her slickened folds, stroking, teasing, tormenting, until she undulated against him. He answered her cry to penetrate her flesh with two fingers plunging into her quivering passage. His clever thumb worked her clitoris until she mewled her need for release. “Shh.” He lowered his mouth to her mons, blowing hot breath against her inflamed flesh, dipping his tongue into the hidden place. His mouth teased her with his mastery.
“I know what you want—what you need,” his voice, low and hoarse, echoed her earlier words. “But not yet.” He pulled back with a devilish grin.
“Please,” she cried, panting and bereft with unsated need. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.” She shut her eyes in fervent surrender.
The mattress at her head sank under his weight. He was kneeling beside her. She gazed into his face, questioning. “Trust me, Kitty,” he said and lowered his face to kiss her, deep and hot, her own erotic essence and juices still lingering on his tongue. Head first, he worked his way down her body, lavishing a sweet torment of licking, kissing, sucking, and biting, creating a tumult of sensation, a hungry throb in her belly until it became a wild and white-hot famine.
When she thought she would expire from his sweet torture, his fingers slid into the dewy folds of her vulva, his tongue darting warm and wet and delicious into her hidden place, finding her most sensitive nub. Her blood coursed like liquid fire in her veins as his tongue and fingers worked their magic, circling and suckling her into a dark descent of desire. Her vision blurred. The first tremors began. She clutched his head and bucked against his mouth, reaching blindly for that exquisite release. During this fevered frenzy, he placed her hand around his sex and straddled her. “Take me between those luscious lips now, Kitty. I want to feel your release while I worship you. I want to experience your scream of rapture with my cock in your mouth.”
With this wicked promise, he buried his face in her mound. Kitty drew him into her mouth, enveloping him in her wet heat and slick, sweet friction just as he took her clit between his lips and sucked. In only seconds, she shattered. The vibration of her muffled scream was his undoing. His sac contracted, and he exploded with a shuddering groan.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
“Ned, you must wake up.” The frantic whisper and tickle of silky hair pleasantly penetrated the periphery of Sir Edward Chambers’ drink-induced, sexually sated, and fog-enshrouded consciousness. “Come, Neddie,” the soft voice implored. “You must wake, or there will be the devil to pay.”
He groaned, rolling onto his side to the simultaneous awareness of a pounding head and the soft, warm presence beside him. He groped blindly, defining a shapely feminine backside that tauntingly wriggled against his groin, stirring quite another part of him to a wakeful and throbbing state. He nuzzled her neck while his burgeoning erection sought the warmth betwixt her thighs. “Annalee, my sweet Annalee,” he murmured into her hair.
The warm, welcoming body became cold stone. “Phoebe,” a voice intoned.
Ned’s bleary eyes popped open, his attention immediately riveted to the massive bed, the heavy velvet curtains of rich crimson and gold, and the towering hand-carved posts of mahogany. He jerked upright as if doused with ice water, his gaze settling on the voluptuous, blue-eyed blonde lying amidst the tangle of luxurious linens. “Kitty?”
“No. Phoebe, ” she answered. “My name. It’s Phoe-be.”
“Phoebe?” He frowned in puzzlement. His vision darted from his thoroughly tumbled bedfellow to the opulent room. He frantically scrubbed his face and looked wildly about the room,
He slid his fingers into her slickened folds, stroking, teasing, tormenting, until she undulated against him. He answered her cry to penetrate her flesh with two fingers plunging into her quivering passage. His clever thumb worked her clitoris until she mewled her need for release. “Shh.” He lowered his mouth to her mons, blowing hot breath against her inflamed flesh, dipping his tongue into the hidden place. His mouth teased her with his mastery.
“I know what you want—what you need,” his voice, low and hoarse, echoed her earlier words. “But not yet.” He pulled back with a devilish grin.
“Please,” she cried, panting and bereft with unsated need. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.” She shut her eyes in fervent surrender.
The mattress at her head sank under his weight. He was kneeling beside her. She gazed into his face, questioning. “Trust me, Kitty,” he said and lowered his face to kiss her, deep and hot, her own erotic essence and juices still lingering on his tongue. Head first, he worked his way down her body, lavishing a sweet torment of licking, kissing, sucking, and biting, creating a tumult of sensation, a hungry throb in her belly until it became a wild and white-hot famine.
When she thought she would expire from his sweet torture, his fingers slid into the dewy folds of her vulva, his tongue darting warm and wet and delicious into her hidden place, finding her most sensitive nub. Her blood coursed like liquid fire in her veins as his tongue and fingers worked their magic, circling and suckling her into a dark descent of desire. Her vision blurred. The first tremors began. She clutched his head and bucked against his mouth, reaching blindly for that exquisite release. During this fevered frenzy, he placed her hand around his sex and straddled her. “Take me between those luscious lips now, Kitty. I want to feel your release while I worship you. I want to experience your scream of rapture with my cock in your mouth.”
With this wicked promise, he buried his face in her mound. Kitty drew him into her mouth, enveloping him in her wet heat and slick, sweet friction just as he took her clit between his lips and sucked. In only seconds, she shattered. The vibration of her muffled scream was his undoing. His sac contracted, and he exploded with a shuddering groan.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
“Ned, you must wake up.” The frantic whisper and tickle of silky hair pleasantly penetrated the periphery of Sir Edward Chambers’ drink-induced, sexually sated, and fog-enshrouded consciousness. “Come, Neddie,” the soft voice implored. “You must wake, or there will be the devil to pay.”
He groaned, rolling onto his side to the simultaneous awareness of a pounding head and the soft, warm presence beside him. He groped blindly, defining a shapely feminine backside that tauntingly wriggled against his groin, stirring quite another part of him to a wakeful and throbbing state. He nuzzled her neck while his burgeoning erection sought the warmth betwixt her thighs. “Annalee, my sweet Annalee,” he murmured into her hair.
The warm, welcoming body became cold stone. “Phoebe,” a voice intoned.
Ned’s bleary eyes popped open, his attention immediately riveted to the massive bed, the heavy velvet curtains of rich crimson and gold, and the towering hand-carved posts of mahogany. He jerked upright as if doused with ice water, his gaze settling on the voluptuous, blue-eyed blonde lying amidst the tangle of luxurious linens. “Kitty?”
“No. Phoebe, ” she answered. “My name. It’s Phoe-be.”
“Phoebe?” He frowned in puzzlement. His vision darted from his thoroughly tumbled bedfellow to the opulent room. He frantically scrubbed his face and looked wildly about the room,
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