Wilder growled, eager for more, so he dipped one finger inside her as he focused his attentions on her clitoris. In moments her restless movements shifted, gained a sharp eagerness that grew along with her whimpers. Then she gasped, and her slick cunt clenched tight around his finger as her body trembled.
“More?” He slicked his finger down to her ass, probing her tight, tense flesh. “Easy, sweetheart.” Her shoulders came up off the bed, her body propped on one elbow as she stared down at him with eyes glazed from pleasure. “Do you want to take me that way?” His cock jumped at the thought. “Maybe someday, but not tonight.” A nervous nod as she wet her lips. “I—I have heard there can be pleasure in it, but I’ve never—”
“There can be pleasure in a lot of things.” He pressed a little harder, and his fingertip slid into her ass.
For a moment she hovered, her lips parted on a silent moan. Her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back. “I want to feel them all.”
“First you,” he promised, his voice low, “then me.” He bent his mouth to her once more, determined to taste her release again and again before he let her touch him.
Satira lost count after the third orgasm.
She was feverish. Wild. Pleasure twisted inside her, dug into her and tossed her about until she found herself clutching at the iron headboard so she wouldn’t fly away.
Wilder was insatiable. And wicked. The sound of her broken pleas must have been incredibly pleasing, because she was limp and trembling before he finally pulled his hands and mouth from her body and climbed up beside her.
“All right?” he asked, brushing her hair from her damp forehead.
How could he possibly be so gentle when arousal must be a torment? Satira traced her shaking hand down his chest until she found the hard length of his erection, hot and ready under her fingertips. “I’ll be better when you’ve felt a fraction of the pleasure you’ve given me.” He hissed in a breath and thrust against her hand. “You’re so eager.”
“I was always eager.” She released him and rocked up to her knees. The flimsy length of her nightgown lay tangled around her body, caught on her hips and falling from one shoulder. Without taking her gaze from his, she curled her fingers in the fabric and eased it up and over her head. “You make me shameless.”
He clenched his fists around the sheets. “How shameless?”
So shameless she was tempted to risk conceiving. Tempted—but unwilling to take the chance. Instead she dropped her hand to the hard muscle of his thigh. “What would please you most?” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Not trying to sleep with this hard-on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you shy now, Wilder? Too shy to tell me where you want my hands or my mouth or any other part of me that tickles your fancy?”
“Want to hear the naughty words, huh?” His hand slid up over her cheek and into her hair, then closed tightly, pulling. “Put that sweet mouth on my cock and make me come.” Not quite rough, but his grip still commanded. She let him urge her head down, bending over him even though the angle was awkward. Scooting her hips toward the head of the bed helped, but she still found herself off balance, one hand braced against the bed between his knees, the other resting on his stomach.
Her position might be vulnerable, but there was power in taking him between her lips. He went rigid, whispering encouragement as she savored the taste of him with slow, lingering licks.
Far too soon, his grip in her hair grew almost painful. “I said for you to make me come,” he rasped.
“Stop teasing.”
The thread of desperation in his voice was better than the pleasure he’d given her. Need. In that moment he needed her as badly as she needed him, their mutual satisfaction assured.
Well, almost assured. She’d been bedded thoroughly and skillfully in the past, but never repeatedly.
Most affairs had lasted days at most, and a wide variety of experiences didn’t precisely translate to being experienced.
Still, she had enthusiasm. Parting her lips, she took as much of his cock as she could manage. He arched up, groaning her name, and she shivered at the giddy pleasure of seeing a hard man undone beneath her touch.
She worked him until her own arousal had built again, then lifted her head and watched his face as she reached for his free hand. “Help me,” she whispered as she moved their twined fingers toward his cock.
“Tell me what you like. Show me how to touch you.”
Wilder wrapped both their hands around the rigid length of his erection and thrust up into their shared grip. “Harder.”
His hand tightened around hers, showing her what he wanted. A firm, rough touch, his hips driving with enough force to make her body weak. Too easy to imagine him taking her like this, the way he’d fill her so fully that no amount of arousal would diminish the sweet friction of a demanding claiming.
The ache between her thighs blossomed into a throb. She shifted her body and tugged lightly against his grip on her hair. When his fingers slipped free she sat up and knelt astride one of his thighs, one hand still trapped beneath his and the other smoothing down her body. “Would you like to tell me how I should touch myself, or shall I do what pleases me?”
He grinned, feral and hungry, and the muscles in his thigh flexed under her. “I can make you come just like this.”
Maybe he could, at that. A bit of squirming was all it took before his next thrust rubbed his leg against her so hot and perfect that her mouth fell open. It was hard to decide where to rest her gaze—on the large, rough hand curled around her own, or on Wilder’s face as he watched her, hungry and sure.
His hips bucked against their hands, and he groaned again. “Fuck.” The quickened pace and hard press of his thigh were too much. The tension trembling inside her twisted into an impossible knot, so tight and heavy she thought she’d go mad from it. She got out half of his name on a breathless pant before heat turned to fire.
Then she came, so hard and fast her toes curled and her body jerked. Her free hand smashed against the bed next to his hip as she struggled to keep her balance.
Wilder’s hoarse groan rose in time with her own gasping cry, and his fingers clamped down, jerking their hands up the length of his cock with frantic urgency. Another shudder rocked her body as his thigh clenched. She fisted her free hand in the covers and whispered his name, and he rewarded her with a shout and the hot spill of his seed across her chest.
His mouth crashed to hers in a kiss almost bruising in its intensity. His teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Satira.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Wilder.”
His chest heaved with a rough laugh. “That was hot as hell.”
“Mmm.” She eased to the side until she was kneeling next to him, then straightened slowly. “I suppose I should be relieved you secured a suite with a bathtub for me.”
“Right.” His head hit the pillow. “Jesus.”
Satira traced idle circles on his chest with her finger, feeling oddly shy considering the sorts of things she’d just done. “You could come with me. If you wanted.”
“To the bath?”
Without the blankets, the room was too cold. She stretched out on her back beside him, head pillowed on his shoulder and her side tucked firmly against the warmth of his body. “Unless you like me like this.”
“It has its appeal.” He reached over and brushed his knuckles up her arm. “Come on. I’ll draw you that bath.”
Experience prompted her, a wisp of memory, from a cocky young bloodhound who’d gone wild at his own scent on her body. She caught his gaze and lifted her fingers and rubbed his seed into her breasts.
Wilder caught her wrist, guiding her fingertips to her parted lips. “The next time I come, I want to be in you.”