Page 34 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue
She arched up and cried out. Her inner walls clenched on his throbbing cock.
“I adore your hot, luscious, tight little cunny,” he said, staring down and watching her writhe on the bed as she cupped her breasts and rolled the pointed tips between her thumbs and forefingers. The sight nearly undid him, and he grasped her hips.
“Be still!” he ground out the words, fighting against the intense urgings of his body to give in and come inside her.
“Oh, oh, oh!” She struggled against his hold.
With a pained groan, he withdrew from her.
“No, no...” She slid toward him, arching her hips.
“Minx.” With his hands still on her hips, he pressed her down.
“You’ve got to behave so I can do this properly.”
“I want your cock! I need your cock!” She made the most incredible mewling sounds and thrashed her head on the pillow. Her hips fought against his restraint. “I need your cock so badly. I need it now.”
Give me the strength not to come immediately.
Hands still gripping her hips, he thrust back inside her with an almost violent motion, and at the return to her tight, hot wetness, he groaned and began a rapid, forceful thrusting. Her whole body rocked beneath his, her breasts bouncing as she cried out in short, clipped little gasps.
He released her hips and slid his hand between their bodies to brush against her most sensitive part. She froze, and her face crumpled up, and she screamed as she arched up towards his body.
His cock jerked, and his seed came in surges that were so strong his climax was almost a painful pleasure. Helpless to sensation, he fell over her and after a few moments, feeling the intense waves of satisfaction like he’d never known before, he just managed the strength to roll off of her and fling his body beside her.
Chapter Thirteen
The following morning, Angela awoke with a stiff back and soreness between her legs. She might have stayed in bed until Evan left the chamber to spare his knowing her state, but she had to pee so badly that she was forced to rise.
Aware that he watched her move gingerly from the bed, she tried to smile.
“Damn,” he said, jumping to his feet and going immediately to the bellpull. Then he looked up and winced. “I am so sorry, my love. I was thoughtless and selfish last night. I shouldn’t have indulged myself so many times.
On her way into her dressing room to seek her chamber pot, she paused with her hand on the doorknob and allowed her gaze to sweep his glorious nakedness. She bit her lip as, despite herself, her sex clenched with hunger.
“I was a willing participant, each and every time,” she said.
A giggle threatened to escape her lips. More than merely a willing participant, she’d been a demanding tyrant.
He had claimed her several times in the night. She couldn’t possibly take any more of his lovemaking today. With a little inward cry of dismay and a sense of loss, she opened the door, slipped into the smaller room, and thus shielded herself from further temptation.
When she returned to their shared chamber, he was relaxing on the chaise longue, reading the papers that Oliver must have brought him.
“I called for a hot bath for you and some tea and toast for both of us.”
“That would be lovely,” she said, a sigh in her voice.
He crooked his finger in a beckoning motion. At the memory of the way he had used that motion so often before, her flesh clenched and, unthinkingly, she pressed her legs together, then the little bite of pain made her shiver.
“Come here and wait with me for the bath. I’ll distract you from your soreness.”
With some misgiving, she walked towards him, aware that she was as naked as he was. Aware that he watched her every move. Aware that his gaze was fixed between her legs.
When she reached him, he stroked her mons. “It’s sore here?”
“Yes,” she said, blushing hotly despite the lustful way that she’d so thoroughly enjoyed his body the night before.
“Don’t blush, my love.” He let his fingers slide between her folds.
