Page 68 of A Story of Love

The result of his action was both immediate and explosive. Her hands fisted his hair and held him in place—as if he had any intention of ever leaving—and her hips bucked as she ground her cunt against his eager lips and tongue.

Fast could not recall a more beautiful sight than prickly, combative Lorelei Fontenot losing control after barely a touch from his tongue. He gently massaged the straining muscles of her thighs as her contractions became less and less violent, until finally her hips stilled.

She opened her eyes, blinked blearily, and then tensed. “Oh,” she muttered, and then tried to pull her legs closed.

Fast easily held her open. “Do your thighs hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Then hush and stay as you are. I am not finished.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t unders—”

“Lift your chemise. I want to see you.”

Only the hitch in her breathing told him that his words affected her. “You are so… bossy.”

“I am,” he agreed without hesitation. “And that excites you, doesn’t it? And you cannot fathom why that is.” He could tell by the scowl on her face that he was right on both counts. “Raise your chemise,” he commanded in a low voice before she could argue.

With clenched jaws and shaking hands, she lifted the slip of muslin higher, exposing herself inch by delicious inch.

It was Fast’s turn to breathe harshly. “Good God, Lorelei.” He caressed the taut cords of her thighs and used his thumbs to spread her lips and expose that most sensitive part of her to his hungry gaze. “Look at you,” he murmured, leaning low and flicking her bud with the tip of his tongue.

When she gasped, he looked up at her. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as she breathed raggedly. He extended his tongue slowly, holding her gaze as he curled the tip around her tiny organ.

His balls, already aching and hard, clenched at the low, animal keening noise she made as she yet again raised her hips, offering herself to him.

Fast tongued her too lightly to give her what she needed, teasing and taunting and tormenting her until she shook as though a fever were raging through her body.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need—” she broke off with a guttural moan.

“I know what you need,” Fast said.

And then he lowered his mouth and gave it to her.

***

For the second time that night Lori lost control. The tension that had been coiling inside her suddenly released like a spring. The pleasure was truly excruciating. One second, she wanted to run from it, the next she was grinding herself against Lord Severn’s mouth.

She told herself that this time would be the last. But then just when she began to regain control, to remember where she was—who she was—he once again drove her toward the cliff and ruthlessly shoved her off the edge.

Time blurred and she lost track of everything except sensation, extreme bliss rippling through her body again and again and again.

Lori was languidly lazing on yet another cloud of ecstasy when the soft, wet heat of Severn’s mouth disappeared.

No. It didn’t disappear, it moved lower.

And lower.

Lori opened her eyes and looked directly into Lord Severn’s heavy-lidded black gaze.

The corners of his mouth curled up at whatever he saw on her face—likely witless befuddlement—and then he brazenly breeched her entrance and slid his tongue inside her.

The unspeakably carnal sight caused her greedy body to ready itself for yet another climax. Severn did not disappoint, his rhythmic, suggestive thrusting propelling her once more toward rapture.

Watching him was even more arousing than the feeling of his skilled lips and tongue. Lord Severn, the Rake of Rakes, was kneeling between her thighs, giving her pleasure she’d never dreamed was possible.

But then just when she teetered on the edge of another orgasm Severn sat back and smiled, his lips and chin slick with… her.