Her only answer was a moan. But he wanted more. He wanted words. Needed her admission so that long after this night, he could recall what it had felt like to hear this starchy sunset-haired governess tell him she liked the way he fucked her.
“Tell me, Persephone,” he said, using her given name and his most commanding voice. “Tell me if you like my hand on your cunny.”
Her gaze, heavy-lidded with desire, met his. “I do. You feel wondrous.”
Although she had given him what he wanted—her admission that she liked what he was doing to her—she had not given him the satisfaction of using a bawdy word. He wanted to hear her demure voice saying the word cunny.
“That ain’t what I asked for,” he said, removing his hand even as she writhed. Instead, he painted the inside of her thigh with her own wetness, drawing tantalizingly close to her drenched center without touching the glistening flesh. “Say it the way I did. Tell me you like my hand on your cunny.” He leaned up and sucked her nipple, then gently bit before withdrawing to blow hot air over the straining tip. “Give me the words and I’ll make you come.”
He wondered if she knew what that meant, whether or not she had ever brought herself to spend. The thought of Persephone lying alone in her bed, those dainty fingers working between her thighs, was enough to make him groan.
“I love your hand on my cunny, Rafe,” she said then, her tone gone husky with need. “Please, do not stop.”
Ah, hell. Sometimes, a man asked for a gift he could not bear receiving. This was one such gift. Because now, he would never be able to forget, for as long as he lived, the sound of Persephone Wren’s dulcet voice telling him she loved his hand on her cunny.
“Good lass,” he praised, kissing the side of her other breast as he cupped her hot center and resumed his effort to make her spend. “You are so pretty and pink and wet here for me.”
She moaned and pumped her hips into his hand. He worked her harder, flicking his tongue over the stiff peak of her breast. Faster. She was impossibly slick, hot and throbbing beneath his fingers. And then, she was stiffening, crying out. Shuddering as her release hit her. He showed her no quarter, determined to wring every bit of pleasure from her, plumping her clitoris with his thumb as she shook and moaned. With her sensitivity heightened, he knew the act was painfully pleasurable. But he wanted to keep her on the edge.
“I want to taste you, sweet,” he said. “I want to lick up every drop of your spend and then fuck you with my tongue.”
“Oh dear heavens,” she said, sounding dazed and half-wild. “Yes. Please.”
He released her breast, his own desperation seizing him, and his head dropped to the pillow as he caught her bottom in his hands and pulled her the rest of the way, until her thighs rested on either side of his face and her dripping cunny was his to feast on.
And feast he did, doing his utmost to control the wild impulse to suck and bite and otherwise make her his. This was Persephone, and he could not recall ever wanting a woman as much. But he needed to go slowly. To listen to her cues even when all he wanted to do was devour her until she screamed.
He licked along her seam, gathering all her wetness and the taste of her exploded in his senses. More delicious than he could have imagined. Musk and flowers and something else that was purely Persephone. He groaned into her cunny, still gripping her rump, angling her over his face so he could latch on to her pearl. She was already swollen and slick everywhere, but most especially here, and whether it was his lust rendering him dicked in the nob or it was real, he swore she pulsed on his tongue.
He sucked hard, and she made a low sound of approval, rocking herself into his face in encouragement. So he sucked harder, then feathered his tongue over her in teasing, light strokes.
“Rafe.”
His name was a moan escaping her. Christ, he would never forget the way she sounded, drunk with lust while she rode his mouth. He kneaded her arse cheeks as he licked and sucked, the hushed sounds of her appreciation growing louder with each stroke of his tongue.
This was a dangerous game they played. He could not afford to be caught, and nor could she. Yet, he forgot to care with her demanding cunny thrusting against him. His tongue traveled along her outer lips, then parted her folds, dipping shallowly into her. She was impossibly hot there, and smooth and wet. Her juices were dribbling down his chin, and he hoped he would smell her on himself in the morning when he woke, naked and alone in this same bed.
And what a bloody shame that would be, waking in this bed without her.
It was necessary, however. They were not meant for more than this stolen night. This shared passion and pleasure. Holding to that thought, he licked up her seam and suckled her clitoris once more. She cried out, her thighs stiffening and closing around his head. Undulating against him, she came fiercely, collapsi
ng partially against him, rhythmically thrusting, seeking more.
But this was still not enough for Rafe. If he only had tonight, he wanted to sate her so thoroughly, there would never be another who could match the heights he had shown her. Years from now, he wanted her to remember Rafe Sutton’s mouth bringing her to her peak until she was limp and mindless.
Determined, he licked into her again, long, probing swipes of his tongue over her quivering flesh.
“Rafe, please.”
Oh, yes. His insatiable little governess wanted more. She writhed against him, her fingers somehow having found their way back to his hair, twisting in the long locks and pulling as she fucked his face. This position had been meant to allay the fears and painful memories dogging her, but now she was truly the one in control, taking what she wanted, demanding he lick and suck her until she spent again.
It was too delicious, and he was on the edge himself. Using his teeth, he nibbled on her pearl, finding a place where she was especially sensitive and her cries turned to mewls. Face buried in her cunny, he managed to open his eyes to the magnificent sight of her, hair unbound and running down her back, nipples hard and pink, breasts full, pale mounds bouncing with each erotic thrust she made.
She was wild.
And he loved it.
And he loved…