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Adam grabbed her by the buttocks and stilled. “Damn, Bea, what are you doing?”

“I want you,” she cried, still hovering above his cock.

He closed his eyes and swallowed. “You’re so damn wet.”

Beatrice whimpered from need and discomfort. She was wet. Her juices dripped over his cock and ran along her hand that still gripped his length.

“Please,” she cried and rocked her pelvis once more.

With a violent curse, Adam held her close as he turned them both, lying Beatrice against the plush seat of the carriage. Her skirts lifted over her waist, and his cock was now probing against her center as Adam hovered over her. His face was red and strained as if he was in immense pain. His forearms were bracketing her face on either side.

He leaned in and captured her mouth in a scorching kiss, while his cock was rubbing against her center. It was covered with her juices now, sliding against her feminine lips, teasing the swollen nub just a little higher, then retreating and doing this over again.

A blissful feeling washed over her, wave after wave, and Beatrice held him close while her hips moved to meet every thrust of his cock against her flesh.

It was bliss.

Yet, it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more, and he obviously wanted more, too.

“Bea,” he growled, sweat dripping down his forehead. “I can’t hold on any longer.”

Beatrice cradled his cheek in her palm. “Don’t. Don’t hold on. I want you.”

“If I do this…”

“I don’t care. I want you…” Beatrice paused, gazing into Adam’s eyes. They seemed almost black in the darkness of the carriage. “Inside.”

Adam closed his eyes and let out a strangled moan. His hand traveled to her center, and his fingers started playing with her there, spreading her lips, and drawing circles around her center.

“No.” Beatrice shifted, lifting her hips, looking for that hot shaft pressing against her.

Adam paused. “No?”

“I want…” Beatrice whimpered from need.

He kissed her gently. “I know what you want, love.” Yet he kept playing with her with his fingers.

“No, Adam. I want you. I want more!”

“I know.” The scoundrel managed to chuckle. “Trust me. I want it, too.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Be patient.”

She whimpered again, her hips rising once more in search of his cock. And he finally obliged her, by pressing it against her thigh, the hot rod almost scalding her with its heat. He made a thrusting move, and Beatrice cried his name.

Then his thumb covered her clitoris, and Beatrice’s back arched in pleasure.

“God, you’re so sweet.” Adam kissed her neck, her chest, before sucking on her breasts again. All the while, his fingers performed his magical dance right at her center, thrusting and retreating, circling and spreading, moving within her.

When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he finally placed the tip of his cock right where she wanted him. He gathered her juices and rubbed them over his length before gazing into her eyes.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His breathing was labored, and he seemed winded, straining as if from pain, and Beatrice felt his pain. His need.

“Yes, Adam, yes,” she cried.

“Hold on to me,” he growled and before she curled her fingers into his shoulders, he thrust his cock into her core.

Beatrice stilled as his cock stretched her to make its way inside her depths. It was so good to finally have him filling her, and yet the uncomfortable stretching and slight burning made her pause.