Page 114 of The Language of Love

He used not only his tongue and lips, but even his teeth. Annis watched his dark head between her thighs until the pleasure overwhelmed her strength and she flopped onto her back, her climax swift and intense.

He made an approving sound against her swollen flesh and then pushed a finger into her clenching and bucking body. She was vaguely aware that she’d lifted her hips higher to grind against his mouth and that her fingers had tangled in his thick, silky hair as she tugged his head lower, using him for her pleasure.

Time passed in a blur as he worked her toward release after release, relentlessly driving her body until she was a bundle of quivering nerves.

“Too much,” she mumbled, yanking on his hair.

He chuckled and then pushed up on to his knees.

Annis stared up at him through lust-slitted eyes, shivering at what she saw. His lips and chin were red and slick, his eyes black.

His mouth curved into a wicked smile when their eyes met, and he slid a hand around his engorged penis and gave himself a slow, hard pump. “See what you’ve done to me, Annis?”

She stared, mesmerized, as he stroked himself. His crown was slick with moisture and each caress of his hand made more, until the thick, ruddy shaft glistened in the flickering candlelight.

“Roll over,” he said, his voice raspy.

Annis heard him speak but couldn’t pull her eyes away from the erotic sight before her.

“R-roll over?” she repeated, unable to recall exactly what the words meant at that moment.

He chuckled, released himself, and flipped her onto her belly before she knew what was happening.

“Hands and knees,” he ordered. This time, he didn’t wait for her to obey, but took her hips in both hands and lifted her up onto her knees.

Annis struggled up onto her hands and then turned to look at him over her shoulder.

He met her gaze, his face stern and unsmiling as he caressed the curve of her bottom and then pushed a finger into her.

She gave a startled cry at the sudden penetration, which was so different—more intense—at this angle.

Annis’s head fell forward, and she closed her eyes as he used both hands on her, spreading, stroking, thrusting, invading her with two, and then three fingers, until she was whimpering like an animal and pushing back against him for more, deeper, harder.

He withdrew his fingers, but before she could miss them, a now-familiar blunt heat pressed against her entrance.

Annis groaned as he entered her, not stopping until his groin pressed against her bottom.

He paused, keeping her filled while he caressed her back and hips. “Feel good?”

She made a noise and hoped he understood it was assent.

He chuckled, flexing his shaft inside her, making it dance. “Feels deeper, doesn’t it?” he asked, withdrawing almost all the way before thrusting back in.

“Henry,” was all she could manage.

He worked her with deep, lazy thrusts. “I wish you could see the way you look taking me.” He eased out until only the fat crown of him still penetrated her and then pulsed, gently stretching her opening.

Annis shoved herself back at him—or at least tried to—but his hands held her hips immobile.

She growled.

Henry laughed, the sound so self-satisfied that she wanted to hit him. “Poor darling,” he teased. “Do you need something?”

Annis refused to beg.

He gave her three deep, savage thrusts. And then stopped.

“What was that?” he asked when a frustrated moan slipped out of her.