Page 57 of The Heir
If he kept his pants up, Anna reasoned, she wouldn’t be so tempted to wantonness, wouldn’t be tempted to touch him, to explore his intriguingly hard and yet delicately smooth male member with her fingers… and lips and tongue. If he kept his pants up, she could manage to keep her own wits about her.
She leaned up and kissed him, only to find herself lifted in his arms, turned, and deposited on the corner of his huge desk.
“Here.” He dragged over a chair and a hassock, the better to support her dangling feet. “If you need to hold on to something, hold on to me.”
Hold on, she did, as his lips settled over hers with unmistakable purpose. His tongue was in her mouth, thrusting in the same lazy rhythm as his hips were pushing against her sex. He wedged himself more tightly between her legs, and Anna felt something hot and needy wake up below the pit of her stomach. One of his arms stayed anchored around her back, but his free hand was wandering, stealing around her waist, leaving heat and wanting in its wake.
“Touch me, Anna.” Westhaven’s voice was a rough whisper, insistent and seductive. “Touch me however it pleases you.”
It pleased her to slide her hands over his chest, but the fine linen of his shirt wasn’t the goal she sought. Without taking her mouth from his, Anna tugged his shirttails free and slid a hand along his ribs, the feel of his warm skin bringing her some unnameable sense of relief.
“Don’t stop,” he urged, as she lifted his shirt free, all the way around his waist, and further gratified herself with the smooth, muscular planes of his back beneath her other hand. To touch him like this, skin to skin, at once soothed and aroused. She needed to touch him and couldn’t get enough of his skin beneath her hands.
“Jesus,” Westhaven hissed when Anna found his nipple. She paused, and he nipped at her neck, “Jesus, that feels good.” He shifted the angle of his hips, and Anna gasped, the sensation resulting from his rigid flesh against her sex sending a bolt of pure, hot desire skittering through her vitals.
“I like it, too,” he murmured, repeating the move but making no effort to open his falls. “Spread your legs, love. I’ll make it feel even better.”
When she grasped the meaning of his words, she complied, her own hands greedily learning the contour and sensitivities of his chest and neck and abdomen. She wanted to put her mouth on him, but his damned shirt…
“Shirt off,” she got out before drawing his tongue strongly into her mouth. She was growing frantic, but for what, she could not have said.For more,she thought. Please, almighty God, formore. They broke apart for a mere instant while Westhaven whipped the shirt over his head then plunged himself tongue-deep back into their kiss.
His hands shifted from her back to bunch the soft billows of her night rail and wrapper up in her lap.
Good, Anna thought, wanting only to be closer to him. And when Westhaven wedged himself between her legs again, she could only pull him closer, hoping he would again find that spot, that one place where the weight and thrust of his rigid length brought her such startling pleasure.
“Use me,” he growled. “Let yourself come.” Anna could not puzzle out the sense of his words but rocked her hips against him, seeking the same fit they’d found earlier.
“I can’t find…” she panted, trying to form words as Westhaven’s hand slipped lower and lower.
“I can,” he whispered, his fingers slipping over her intimate folds. His touch was infernally knowing, light, and teasing,maddening. Then he shifted the angle of his hand, so his thumb was pressing,right there, and he gave her a hint of relief with the tip of his finger inside her body.
“Westhaven,” she panted, “…dear God, what are you…?”
But his free hand had parted her night clothes enough to find a nipple and apply a gentle, pulsing pressure to it. That was all it took, just the start of attention to a breast, a bit of his finger, some pressure from his thumb, and her body seized in great, clutching spasms of pleasure.
She came silently, her body bucking against him for long fraught moments in complete abandon. When it was over, she hung limp and winded against him, shuddering as aftershocks wracked her, her cheek pressed over his heart.
Westhaven wanted nothing more than to plunge his raging erection into her wet heat and thrust like a mad bull, but his instincts suggested the moment wasn’t right. There had been too much ignorance in Anna’s responses, too little ability to anticipate and manage her own reactions.
Too muchinnocence.
So he held her to his chest and stroked her hair, and tried to pay attention to her and not to the indignant clamoring of his impatient cock.
“I cannot fathom what just passed between us,” she whispered.
“Has no one seen to your pleasure?” Westhaven kissed her temple, unable to stifle the smile in his voice. She might not be a virgin fresh from the schoolroom, but it pleased him to think he was the first to bring this to her. A husband exercised his rights, but a lover pleasured.
“Pleasure,” she echoed his thought, sounding inebriated. “Profound pleasure.”
“I hope so,” the earl rumbled. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He brushed her hair back over her ear, and regarded her carefully. The disorientation on her face, coupled with the trusting, boneless weight of her in his arms caused a spike of profoundaffectionfor her to spread out from the center of his chest.
“I would like a little of the same for myself,” he whispered, arms going more tightly around her. “You will oblige me?”
“Oblige?” Anna’s brain had clearly slipped its leash, and Westhaven was hard put not to gloat.
“Let me come against you,” the earl urged, his voice intimate with anticipated pleasure. “The couch will do.” Hearing no objection, he hoisted her from the desk and laid her down on the long sofa.
“Lovely,” he whispered, coming down on top of her.
