Finally, Skye opened her eyes to find him watching her again. The perception and tenderness she saw in his eyes made her throat ache. She tried to speak, to say something that would praise his marvelous lovemaking, but her voice was too hoarse, so she contented herself with burying her face in his warm chest.
His arms came around her and drew her close. It was a long while before her ragged breathing slowed and her racing heartbeat returned to anything resembling normal. Only then did she become conscious that although he had given her astonishing pleasure, he was still in dire pain.
“I want to pleasure you now,” she murmured.
His hand, which had been drifting through her hair, went still. When she reached down to open the front placket of his drawers, he didn’t stop her.
Encouraged, Skye pushed herself up on her elbow. She badly wanted to reciprocate. Hawkhurst had set her afire, and she wanted to kindle an answering fire in his body.
When she parted the fabric, his shaft sp
rang out, heavy and aroused. In the growing daylight, she fixed her fascinated gaze on his naked loins, unable to look away. The huge, thick length was standing nearly erect between his powerful thighs.
Skye bit her lower lip. Her aunt had told her something about the male body, how to arouse a man, but putting theory into practice was another matter altogether.
“What should I do?” she asked.
“Whatever you like.”
“I want to see your body,” she said honestly, knowing she was blushing.
“As you wish.”
Raising his hips, he stripped off his drawers in one smooth motion, then lay back, allowing her to look her fill. She was captivated by the sight of his magnificent body … his nakedness, his intense beauty … virile, masculine, hard, corded with lean muscle.
He had invited her to do as she wished, and she was hungry to touch him, but still she hesitated.
“Run your fingers over my skin,” he suggested.
Obligingly, she let her fingers drift over his torso. She stroked his chest for a time before moving down to his sinewy thighs, savoring the exquisite textures of him, the heat and strength that was so profoundly male.
Feeling shy and daring at the same time, Skye trailed her hand upward again to brush her fingertips over his hard, silky flesh. When she let her fingers close around his hard member, his breath quickened.
“Stroke me with your hand,” he urged.
Skye looked up to find the eyes that were fixed on her face had grown darker.
“Like this?” she asked, lightly fondling his rigid, straining arousal.
His body tightened as hers had done moments before. “Yes,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She watched his storm-silver eyes as she explored, cherishing the pleasure she saw reflected there, the tenderness. She learned him with her hands, cupping the heavy sacs beneath his manhood, running her thumb over the blunt, velvety head.
When her fingers curled again around his shaft and squeezed, the whole length surged and quivered at the pressure. Yet Skye was not satisfied.
“I intend to touch you as you touched me …” she murmured. She was not nearly so confident as she let on, but she bent down to kiss his swollen flesh.
His body tensed at the first warm touch of her mouth. And when she tasted him with her tongue, his breath drew harshly between his teeth.
“This is what you did to me, is it not?”
“It is similar, yes.”
At the delicate searching of her tongue, his hips stirred restlessly. And when she suckled him harder, he gave a soft groan.
“Am I doing this correctly?”
“Yes … quite correctly.”