Part 19 (2/2)
”My lord,” she breathed.
”I swear I will make you say my name.”
”Hah,” came in a choke as his tongue circled and flicked; then he drew deeply again on the delicate peak before he paid homage fit for a sovereign to its mate. By then she was arching into him, jerking on his hold, and he released her wrists and moved lower, licking her ribs and parting the gown as he did. The rip of old fabric stirred her. Siobhan felt her insides s.h.i.+ft and loosen, her flesh damp and aching. His moves were deep, unhurried, staggering her will, and she wanted to watch, to see his mouth on her, see his face, but pride bade her nay. She gripped his shoulders, her body slickening.
Then he tore the gown to her knees, his weight gone, and as she looked up, he quickly spread her thighs and covered her softness with his mouth. She cried out loudly, and he chuckled, parting her flesh, probing the dewy fold with his velvet tongue.
She squirmed, trying to bend her leg and ease the throbbing.
He refused her. ”Say my name.”
”Nay.”
Falling back on his haunches, he caught the tattered fabric and yanked her to her feet, stripping off the remnants of the gown, loving that she swayed unsteadily, and before she could pull away, he caught her hips in his broad hands, tipping her to the heat of his mouth.
He licked.
”Oh, my stars.” Her legs threatened to fold and she caught the bedpost, his lips and tongue giving her pleasure she never knew existed. ”This is madness,” she muttered, her fingers twining through his hair. Her hips rocked.
”Say it.”
She looked down, the sight of him, his head between her thighs horribly arousing.
Then he drew her leg over his broad shoulder. ”Say my name.”
”My lord.”
His tongue snaked, flicking the core of her. Her knees buckled and she reached above and held on to the bedpost.
”My name.”
”PenDragon.”
He smiled, smoothing his hands up the back of her thighs and dipping his fingers between. Her breathing quickened deliciously. ”Say my name, Siobhan.”
Tasting her still, he parted her, plunging two fingers inside her.
”Oh-oh, sweet mercy.” The beat of her desire throbbed through her, quick and blazing. He could feel it, in feminine muscles flexing and pawing against his touch, in the flesh quivering with the coming peak.
She rocked.
He moaned encouragement, withdrew and plunged deeper. ”My name.”
”My lord,” she gasped, grinding to him, shameless, unbridled in pleasure.
Siobhan accepted it, let it shower her like hot rain, her body reaching for the undiscovered rapture just on the edge. Always on the edge.
He tortured her, demanding his name again in surrender.
She refused, and his tongue circled the bud of her desire over and over. She cried out in her language. Cursing him in one long moan and still, he mastered her body.
Still, he tasted her desire.
Her pa.s.sion-slick muscles clamped and pulsed, and Gaelan lifted his gaze, watching her climax spread through her, her head tipped back, her fingers deep in his hair. Her lips parted in breathless pants, her eyes closed against the tension trying to escape.
Suddenly she inhaled, bowing from the bedpost like a silken banner caught in the wind.
He drank her ecstasy, felt it rip through him with a ruthlessness that unmanned him, fractured his control and made him spill his seed.
Her pleasure was his.
He took her to the edge and over it and when she sank boneless, Gaelan rose, gathering her in his arms and laying her gently on the bed. Her lashes swept up and he saw tears. He knelt, and she touched a trembling finger to his cheek, his jaw, then across his lips. There was no shame in her expression, only satisfaction and a bit of confusion. ”Siobhan?”
”I never felt that afore.”
”I know.” He wanted to flex and roar just then. ”You liked it, aye?”
”Me moanin' like the banshee tell you that?”
Gaelan loved how her voice rose in questioning pitch at the end of a sentence.
”Where do we go now?”
He shrugged, yet his eyes held a plea that had little to do with contracts and bargains or making love. ”Wherever you like.”
Chapter 15.
Siobhan stretched, arching like a cat, and Gaelan's gaze followed the slip of the sheet exposing her beautifully pale breast. b.r.e.a.s.t.s he'd the pleasure of loving last night. Along with a few other delectable parts. The memory of her abandon, her taste, made him hard and hungry to discover the rest of her.
Siobhan blinked awake and turned her head. He was on his side, elbow bent, his head propped on his list.
”Good morn, wife.”
'Twas odd, she thought, to see a man in her bed after so many years. Her gaze slid over him, his thick arms and his carved chest, to the sheet pooled at his waist. ”Good morn, husband.”
His eyes, so dark and filled with mischief, glowed. ”What else must I do to get you to say my name?”
Her face flamed to the roots of her hair. ”You did not get it last eve, did you now?”
”I am most willing to try again.” He reached.
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