Page 79 of A Night of Forever
Fists clasped by his side, he stood as still as a statue as she freed his erection and ran her fingers lovingly over its velvety hardness. His body was so hard, his skin so soft. When a drop of liquid formed at the slit, she leaned forward and lapped at it. His groan vibrated through his body and filled the room.
Growing bolder at the sound, she wrapped her fingers around him and slid the soft skin up and down its full length. His indrawn breath came hard and sharp.
Watching him through her eyelashes, she saw his aristocratic features stiffen as she took him in. She loved his sharp indrawn breath. She suckled gently at first, using her tongue to swirl round the head of his cock as he pushed further into her mouth.
She sucked harder and was rewarded by a low growl deep in his throat.
“This is heaven.”
The hunger in his voice made her limbs weak, and she placed one hand on his solid thigh to steady herself.
The sounds originating from deep in his chest confirmed that what she was doing made him feel good. His hands remained at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling as though he wanted to tangle them in her hair but knew that would give away what they were doing—not that the others probably didn’t suspect.
She took him so deep that he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes watered, but the tremble in his limbs, his guttural groans, and that incredible, intoxicating knowledge that it was she alone who held him on this edge kept her steady.
“I’m going to come, Isobel. Let me—”
She shook her head and sucked him harder. She would taste him as he had tasted her.
He might have tried to move away. But it was too late. The end came hard and fast.
She watched him as he convulsed, as his hot seed flooded her throat. The look on his face broke her heart. In his release, all the dark shadows around him fell away and there was a radiant innocence to his beauty. He was free of fear. The only thing holding him in its grip was pleasure.
She barely had time to drink in this brighter, more joyous version of Arend before he scooped her up and placed her on the edge of Maitland’s desk before sweeping the papers on the desk to the floor and then flipping up her skirts.
When he had bared her secrets, he smoothed his palms along the insides of her legs. When his dark head disappeared between her thighs she rested on her elbows to watch him, unable to look away.
She tensed in anticipation and her body grew tight at the delicious heat his erotic caresses lit in her.
The muscles in her thighs clenched just as they had the first time he had parted her curls. This time she knew what was coming, and her breath clogged her throat in anticipation. As he slid his fingers over her pulsing warmth, she thanked God for giving her this man.
“I love the way you taste.” His voice was a sensual rasp that made the hairs on her arms stand to attention. “The way you respond under my mouth.”
He brushed a probing kiss over her feminine cleft, and excitement rushed over her at the brazen touch of his heated lips.
He licked the swollen bud of her sex, and she sighed. His tongue stroked over the silky crevice between her thighs, and a delicious shock flared through her. Her elbows trembled and would no longer support her. Shaking in astonished pleasure, she managed to lower herself so she lay flat on the hard desk.
Then she writhed, trying to shift her hips, seeking either escape or capture, she did not know which. Wave after wave of delight swept over her, and she gave herself up to the wantonness.
With a satisfied murmur, Arend spread her legs wider.
As delicious sensations jolted Isobel, she arched against his mouth, begging for more.
His lips closed over her taut, hardened nub and suckled, not gently, but with a power that reminded her of the formidable man he was.
When she moaned out loud, he nipped at her. “I love hearing your cries of ecstasy.” He sounded hoarse. “Cries only I will ever hear,”
Incapable of any rational reply, she let her eyelids drift closed and reached to thread her fingers through his dark, silky curls, to draw him close.
She was in heaven. The fierce heat of his mouth inflamed her senses. Her hips rose involuntarily as his wicked, scalding tongue lapped and probed.
He did not savor her. He feasted, deliberately tormenting the quivering, throbbing bud of her sex, leaving her feverish and frantic.
“Now, Arend, now,” she cried as he held her hostage on the cusp of completion, not allowing her to fly, to soar.
He made a raw, satisfied sound deep in his throat and hooked his arms under her thighs. When he draped her legs over his shoulders to give him even better access and lowered his head, she wanted to scream his name, scream how much she loved him.
His hot, rasping tongue owned her, its every touch sent her nerves careening out of control. It stole breath from her chest, power from the hands that gripped his hair so tightly, desperately…
