Page 61 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
He made a passionate play of a single kiss, and when she finally broke away, he knew he had pushed her too far. The kiss had been frankly sexual, and she was overwhelmed. She stared at him with her breath short and her eyes wary.
He let her pull away, though his every muscle clenched with the need to keep her close.
“No more,” she rasped.
He looked down to where his penis was wet and flushed, jerking toward her with muscles he could not completely control. “Do you still wish to see?”
She swallowed, and he thought for a moment she would run. But Bluebell was a bold woman, and so after a moment, she nodded.
“You may help me at any time,” he instructed, “but I will show you for now.”
“Yes,” she whispered, and his blood surged at the word.
He took himself in hand. He wrapped his fingers around himself, and he did a slow stroke from tip to base. He surged into his hand, unable to stop himself, but his eyes were on her as she wet her lips and angled to see. Just how bold was this country miss?
“Do you see the moisture at the tip?”
She nodded.
“Many women like the taste. Would you like to try?”
“They…?”
He nodded.
He watched her bite her lower lip, even white teeth pressing into red flesh. He focused on that, using it to control the roaring in his blood. But then she nodded.
Bold miss indeed.
He kept himself excruciatingly still as she extended her index finger toward him. She had to do it on her own, so he said nothing. Just waited.
Then the pad of her finger stroked across the very tip. He held back a groan while his buttocks pushed himself toward her. He could not stop it, and the brief pressure against her finger was like the press of heaven.
Then she drew back, her finger moist, the liquid pearlescent in the light. And she popped it in her mouth and sucked.
He nearly came from the sight of that alone. He imagined himself in her mouth with her tongue swirling over his tip. With the taste of him inside her, filling her.
“Salty,” she said.
“Yes.”
He forced himself to let go of his grip. He opened his hand and let his organ bob free between them. “You cannot fully understand unless you do it.”
“Hold it?”
“As I was. Stroke from the tip to the base.”
She looked at him, her expression showing uncertainty. But then she did it. She reached out and wrapped him in a tentative hold. Her hand was cool compared to the heat of his cock, but it quickly warmed. And as she adjusted her fingers to his girth, he shuddered from the glorious feel.
“Harder,” he rasped, and she complied.
White fingers, the dark red head of his cock, and the pressure of her small hand around him. God, it was a wonder he didn’t explode right there.
He let his head fall back, his breath ragged. She didn’t move, but he saw her eyes dart to his face.
“Good?” she asked.
“Yes.”
