Page 88 of Irresistible
It seemed a fake marriage had changed all that. Or, more accurately, a certain captivating woman who’d captured his attention and attraction.
Suddenly, a lasting liaison and even domesticity were appealing.
Dougal set her on the bed. She was wearing the same red dressing gown she’d worn in Dorset. It looked strange—as if she shouldn’t be wearing it when she wasn’t Mrs. Smythe. What a thoroughly possessive notion. It made him kiss her even more deeply, his lips and tongue claiming every part of her mouth.
She clutched at his head and shoulder, her movements as frenzied as he felt. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to wait until they were disrobed. At the very least, he needed to remove his coat as it was inhibiting his movements.
Straightening, he pulled the garment from his shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Then he tugged his cravat loose. It knotted, and he had to fuss with pulling it free.
While he was distracted, she’d unbuttoned his fall. Now her hands were on his cock, and he was glad he’d gotten the cravat off. If not, he wouldn’t have been able to accomplish the feat, not while she was stroking him so wonderfully.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her head so very close to his cock. He imagined her taking him in his mouth… Then she did precisely that.
Pushing his breeches down over his hips, she held the base of his shaft and put her lips around him. One of her hands caressed his backside while the other scored her fingernails over the flesh of his balls. Sensation and pleasure crashed over him as she drew him deeper into her mouth.
“Jess,” he murmured, grasping the base of her plait and threading his fingers through her hair. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, relinquishing himself completely to her control.
He knew she’d never done this before—they’d discussed it last time after he’d pleasured her similarly. She’d asked if she could return the favor. He’d said yes but hadn’t thought it would actually come to pass. Now, here she was giving him more of herself than he’d ever dreamed.
Her fingers dug into his flesh, urging him to thrust into her mouth. He tried to retain control, to not overwhelm her, but she was quickly pushing him to the edge of reason.
It would be so easy to let himself go, to completely surrender and climax into her mouth. But he wanted her to come with him.
Clutching the back of her head, he pulled away from her. His cock pulsed with the almost painful need to finish.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice deep and husky. The tone was incredibly erotic and did nothing to ease his torment.
“I want to finish with you.” He unbuttoned her dressing gown, and while she obligingly shrugged it off, the garment remained pinned beneath her.
She stroked him again, her hand moving expertly over his shaft. “I wanted to experience what it felt like for you to finish in my mouth.”
Dougal groaned. “Next time. I promise.”
She looked up at him with a sensual smile, her eyes slitted. “I am thrilled there will be a next time.”
“I am more concerned with this time. I’m afraid I can’t wait another moment.” He realized as soon as he said the words that his current situation would make shagging her rather difficult. He needed his breeches off, which meant he needed to discard his boots.
Cursing rather profanely, he worked his garments off until he wore nothing but his shirt. In the meantime, she’d removed her night rail so that she was nude. She also scooted back on the bed, her legs splayed before him while her hand rested above her sex.
“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered, the pain of near-release reaching a terrible crescendo.
Her fingers slid down to her clitoris. “Like this?” She stroked herself and brought her heels up to the edge of the bed, bending her legs.
“And your nipple.” He closed his hand around his cock and pumped it from head to base.
Her hand stilled over her sex. “Only if you take off your shirt.”
He quickly moved to respond, whipping the garment over his head and throwing it away. “Do it.”
Her fingers started again between her legs, and her other hand moved to her left breast, cupping it at first and then closing her thumb and forefinger over the nipple. She breathed heavily, her rapture an audible sensation that fed his desire.
“Harder,” he said. “Pinch it like I do.”
She closed her fingers over the nipple and pressed. Gasping, she held tightly, pulling at her breast as she slid one of her fingers into her sheath.
Dougal moved his hand from his cock to her sex, putting his finger with hers and thrusting them inside her. She cast her head back with a moan as her wet sheath gripped him.
Unable to stand another moment without being inside her, Dougal put his other hand around his shaft and put himself at her sex. She pulled at her folds, opening herself for him. He slid the head inside, then thrust deep.
