Page 31 of His Own Heaven

“The night isn’t over yet, baby.”

“Then why did Charlie leave?”

Slow and wicked, a smile stretched across his face, and Lucy went very still. “So I can defile you in all the ways my brother can’t handle,” he said. “In all the ways I’ve dreamed of doing since you walked through my office door.” His grin turned predatory. “Or did you think my toys were all for show?”

Chapter Eleven

Toby awoke with a yawn and stretched his long body, then rolled over and smiled at the warm bundle of woman sleeping on her stomach beside him. Her long dirty-blonde hair splayed out in all directions, as did her limbs. Lucy was a bed hog. Easily forgivable, as he supposed that she, like he, lived and slept alone most of the time.

The sheet was bunched around her waist, exposing her back, and one arm hung over the edge of the bed. She had one leg on top of the covers and one leg under them, but her foot still poked out from the bottom of the sheet. She wasn’t just a bed hog, she was a restless sleeper too. More than once he’d heard her mumble in her sleep, like she was talking to someone, only to suddenly cry out and then promptly fall silent again.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to stay the night. She didn’t want him to witness her nightmares. Which begged the questions, how often did she have these nightmares, and who was she talking to before she cried out? And would she let him keep his promise to take care of her beyond what they’d already done?

He may have seen to her physical needs, but through the night it had become obvious she needed more care than that.

Lucy Barton was a fascinating and complex woman, the sexy submissive he’d pleasured all night long totally at odds with the uptight totalitarian he’d met in his office. And he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything about her. But right now, his dick was rock-hard, and he wanted to fuck.

Brushing her hair aside, Toby leaned over her and kissed her back, trailing his lips along her spine and around the jagged edges of her scars. She shifted and moaned but didn’t rouse more than that. With a smile, he tried harder to wake her and pushed the sheet down to expose the glorious rounds of her perfect arse.

He’d gone to great lengths not to mark her during their play session, to leave her skin clean and clear of bruises, but he knew she’d still be tender and smiled knowing she’d think of him every time she sat down.

Toby stroked his hands over her body and enjoyed her softness. She was fit and healthy, and he could feel firm muscle under her soft skin. He was tempted to spank her but leaned down and continued trailing kisses instead. He paid close attention to the crease at the top of her thigh, right where her leg joined her arse.

During their play session, he’d discovered that crease was a particularly ticklish spot for her, and when he lightly ran the tip of his tongue over the area, she kicked her legs and twisted her body as she suddenly sat up, almost sitting on him in the process.

Two dark amber eyes glared up at him, and her voice was a sleep-roughened snarl. “What are you doing?”

“Time to wake up, baby.”

She flopped back on the pillows. “Just gimme five more minutes, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Toby chuckled. “Get out of my hair?”

Lucy threw her arm over her eyes and groaned. “I promise I’ll leave, okay? I just want a few more minutes to enjoy this big comfy bed.”

“Just the bed?”

Her arm shifted just enough that she could peek out from behind it, and her lips curled up in that wicked way he was coming to recognise as a prelude to her surrender. A smile that said she was interested, didn’t want to appear too eager, but was open to persuasion.

“Depends. Is there something you think I’d enjoymorethan the bed? I mean, come on, this is a pretty freaking awesome bed.”

It was too. His older brother and interior designer extraordinaire, Crispin, had designed and built the entire suite of bedroom furniture, from the tallboy and the bedside tables to the coffee table and the enormous custom bed. A bed built for someone of Toby’s size and sleeping habits.

Lucy wasn’t the only one who liked to spread out when they slept.

Returning her grin, he said, “I can think of one or two things you might like.” Then he slid farther down the bed and positioned himself between her thighs so his chin rested on her hairless mound. She giggled when he brushed his stubble over her soft skin, and the sweetly feminine sound ignited his lust.

A flick of his tongue against Lucy’s clit was all the warning he gave before devouring her sweet pussy. He’d gone down on her twice the night before and would have happily spent most of their play session eating her out. Her flavour was like a drug. A highly addictive narcotic that had slipped through his veins and sent his passions into overdrive. But after he’d forced her to orgasm multiple times, she’d begged him to stop, her pleasure/pain response edging more into pain than pleasure and her whole body twitching like one giant exposed nerve.

He’d quietened her need and settled her down with one final fuck, had filled her arse with his cock and slowly spooned her, had cradled her body against his chest and committed every curve, every hollow, and every blessed imperfection to memory.

He’d petted her and soothed her and told her what a good girl she was, and she’d come undone so beautifully, mewling his name. Then she’d turned in his arms, a sweaty, graceful, tear-stained mess, and snuggled against him. She’d shivered and clung to him, and he’d stroked one big hand up and down her back until her shivering stopped, until she’d lifted her head, smiled at him, and whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

Now as he ate her out, as he drank in her sweet scent and lavished her clit with pinpoint accuracy, she gripped his hair and bucked her hips against his face, and Toby was in heaven. That was the only way he could describe it.

Sex with Lucy Barton was his own personal heaven.

He’d never been with a woman as responsive as her, as open as she was to all he had to give her. And her appetite for sex rivalled his own.

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