Page 49 of His Custody

“Turn you on?”

The shake turned into a nod and she breathed faster. “Good. I want you ready for me. I want to taste you, touch you. Is that okay?”

He wanted to take the way her head dropped back and her eyes clamped shut as a yes, but until he could read her better, he needed to know. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

He slid thumbs on either side of her labia and parted them gently, pulling them aside so he could see her, all of her. She was glistening wet and her clit was swollen. What kind of moron wouldn’t be able to find a woman’s clit? He lowered himself to his stomach, his shoulders bracing her legs apart and he leaned forward, breathing her in. She had a musky sweet smell he was sure would taste even better, and when he lowered his head and took a leisurely pass with his tongue over her center, he was delighted to be proved right.

Tallulah Tinker Bell was sweet from her head to her toes, inside and out. He licked her until she was frantic and then took her clit in his mouth, sucking on the hard nub until she was panting. “Jasper. Jasper, please.”

He smiled and hummed against her, heeding her begging and then sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh. Not hard, but tight enough she would feel the hard edges of his teeth closing around her. Drawing back, he let go and did it over and over again until she was shaking. He sucked hard, tonguing her and that’s when she lost it, her thighs pressing hard against his shoulders, his name on her lips, a pulse of moisture pouring out of her.

He stroked her thighs until she calmed down, lifted her head to stare at him where he rested between her legs. “You look pleased with yourself.”

“I am. You taste wonderful and your orgasms could measure on the Richter scale. What’s not to like?”

She giggled and dropped her head back on the fluffy pillow. “Nothing.”

“That’s right. And now you’re going to come for me again.”

Before she could argue, he slicked a finger through her wetness and found her entrance. He hadn’t been with a virgin since his first time when he hadn’t known what he was doing, but he did now. Keyne still had her hymen, for god’s sake. Which should have deterred him—maybe would’ve if he were a better man—but what it tripped in his mind was possessiveness, and a gut-level feeling that no one could please her, provide for her, love her like he could.

He eased a finger inside of her. She was so wet it was easy and she moaned. He moved in and out of her, testing the thin layer of skin. Women’s bodies amazed him. How their cunts could feel so tight and close around a finger but then take a cock. How did they do that? Mystical, magical creatures, the lot of them.

He added a second finger and she made a sound, half gasp, half moan and he lifted his eyes to hers. “Okay? Does that feel good? I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes, yes, no.”

“Smart aleck,” he scolded mildly, but it made him feel better. Keyne wasn’t so consumed by lust that she’d gone senseless, not if she could make a joke. He ran his fingers along her entrance, applying pressure to stretch her. She didn’t object or tense, so he pressed harder, the flesh yielding under his patient insistence.

He withdrew and she squeaked a protest, but he hushed her. “Don’t worry, I’m not through with you yet.”

Grabbing a pillow, he shoved it under her hips, raising her up and spreading her out. He pressed his fingers into her again and began to manipulate her clit with his thumb. It wasn’t long until she was making soft needy noises and tossing her head. At a particularly hard thrust, she moaned, a noise deep and true that came from her core. Jesus. He kept it up, his fingers pistoning in and out of her, her hips canting up to receive him, take more, and when he laid the heel of his hand over her clit and the buck of her hips brought her into contact, he knew she was on the downslope.

A few more thrusts and she cried out. His name, a few expletives, but mostly his name. He wished he had a recording of her saying his name. In any tone she used with him, really, but especially this one. God he loved making her come.

When he’d wrung the last of her orgasm from her body, he discarded the pillow and lay down beside her to cuddle her. He surrounded her with his body, hers small and slight, his big and blocky. She looked like he could snap her in two. And was that— Yes, that was a goddamn freckle in her ear. Why such an insignificant detail would tug at his heartstrings, he wasn’t sure, but at the moment, everything about her called to him. Sweet little siren.

Four times. Four times he’d made her come this morning and it wasn’t ten o’clock yet. God help him, he was never letting her out of the bed. He’d keep her chained here, his little sex slave to do with as he pleased.

His littlevirginsex slave. Not for much longer, if that was something she wanted. She pressed against him, taking the fabric of his shirt between her fingers in small fists. He didn’t know why she did that, but he liked it. Made him feel a hundred feet tall.

“Jasper?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Why are you still wearing clothes?”

He laid his cheek against the top of her head and rubbed her back, loving the silky skin. “Because I can.”

“Okay.”

Her sweet acquiescence made him want her even worse. The fact that he’d managed to keep his cock out of her so long should’ve earned him a fucking medal. And he’d wait longer if he had to, teeth gritted and strung out with want, but he’d do it if she asked. Not with the guilt-tripping, self-congratulatory smugness of some guys, either. He would be patience embodied if that’s what she needed.

“Jas?”

He snorted. So many questions. He’d answer every single last one. “Yeah?”