drawers, letting his tongue touch the fabric and his hot breath slide through. He opened the lace-trimmed slit and buried his face there, and she almost jumped. His tongue slicked all over her quim, bathing her with pleasure, tasting her most intimate flavors.
“I would sit you up on the table like the sweet, sumptuous dessert you are, and eat you this way. And all I would care about is tasting you and pleasing you. And all you would want is to come on my face.”
He flicked her clitoris with his tongue and sensation streaked through her. Her legs shook, her muscles straining, and she drove her fingers into his hard, wide shoulders. Wet, hot, so shockingly intimate, his tongue circled, stroking the side; then he twirled its tip against the very top of her clitoris and she screamed, “Mr. Sharpe!”
“Devlin,” he murmured against her sticky nether lips. Then his lips played on the swollen, throbbing nub, his teeth grazed it, and she pumped against his mouth and sobbed.
He stopped again and she suddenly found her fists punching his shoulders. “Oh don’t…don’t.”
Feasting on her cunny had mussed his hair, and the dark honey-colored locks tumbled over his eyes. Eyes that gleamed with delight at her desperate plea. “I want to learn what delights you, what thrills you, what you fear to try…I want to learn how to make you come.”
Learn? He spoke as though it took a long time. As though there were lessons. She would be going away today. This was her last time with him…her last chance to look into his mesmerizing eyes and share sighs and moans and laughter.
There was nothing to learn about her. She would be gone.
With a low chuckle, he teased her nether lips with his tongue and gently touched his finger to her juicy entrance. She was so wet his fingers filled her. He thrust them in and out and she moaned over and over. Whimpered when he moved his fingers away.
His big hands closed on her derriere and pulled her to his face. He rocked her and she found her rhythm, stroking her clit against his hot, raspy tongue over and over. Stars burst behind her lids and she could barely suck in breath for moaning.
She was grinding on him, but he worked his mouth against her and she gave her body to the tension coiling inside—
He drew back and she surged forward. He wanted to leave her there, on the brink, but she couldn’t—
Even as his mouth drew back, her orgasm burst inside. She couldn’t stop it. Her body seemed to melt into a puddle of molten cream, and she flowed all over his face, crying his name. Sobbing with thrilling delight. Moaning and moaning until her lungs were empty, her throat was dry, and she was certain that if she spread her arms, she’d fly.
She collapsed but he was there, lowering her into his embrace. Her salty, ripe, erotic taste teased her lips as he kissed her. He kissed her hard and passionately, and she was a boneless, silken, languorous puddle held in his arms.
“Grace, love—” Husky, raw, his voice washed over her.
“I thought,” Grace whispered. “I thought I wanted memories that would keep me happy when I went to bed alone—”
Devlin felt Grace change in his arms from a melting, well-pleasured woman to a stiff and awkward lady in an instant. Brushing back unruly strands of her pure gold hair with a jerky motion of her pretty hand, she gazed up at him.
Rigid, thick, swollen to the limits of its skin, his cock was pulsing, and desire and lust and need nagged in his head, harder to ignore than cannon fire. Her head had dipped and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of her wet, hot, fragrant quim. He doubted his selfish half brother had done that to her.
He bent to capture her lips again. It would be better if they did not speak, but she shook her head. “I want—”
She pulled from his embrace, tugged down her skirts. “Oh, but I was wrong. So very, very wrong. These memories are much worse than those of Wesley! These make me hot and frustrated. They will
“I would sit you up on the table like the sweet, sumptuous dessert you are, and eat you this way. And all I would care about is tasting you and pleasing you. And all you would want is to come on my face.”
He flicked her clitoris with his tongue and sensation streaked through her. Her legs shook, her muscles straining, and she drove her fingers into his hard, wide shoulders. Wet, hot, so shockingly intimate, his tongue circled, stroking the side; then he twirled its tip against the very top of her clitoris and she screamed, “Mr. Sharpe!”
“Devlin,” he murmured against her sticky nether lips. Then his lips played on the swollen, throbbing nub, his teeth grazed it, and she pumped against his mouth and sobbed.
He stopped again and she suddenly found her fists punching his shoulders. “Oh don’t…don’t.”
Feasting on her cunny had mussed his hair, and the dark honey-colored locks tumbled over his eyes. Eyes that gleamed with delight at her desperate plea. “I want to learn what delights you, what thrills you, what you fear to try…I want to learn how to make you come.”
Learn? He spoke as though it took a long time. As though there were lessons. She would be going away today. This was her last time with him…her last chance to look into his mesmerizing eyes and share sighs and moans and laughter.
There was nothing to learn about her. She would be gone.
With a low chuckle, he teased her nether lips with his tongue and gently touched his finger to her juicy entrance. She was so wet his fingers filled her. He thrust them in and out and she moaned over and over. Whimpered when he moved his fingers away.
His big hands closed on her derriere and pulled her to his face. He rocked her and she found her rhythm, stroking her clit against his hot, raspy tongue over and over. Stars burst behind her lids and she could barely suck in breath for moaning.
She was grinding on him, but he worked his mouth against her and she gave her body to the tension coiling inside—
He drew back and she surged forward. He wanted to leave her there, on the brink, but she couldn’t—
Even as his mouth drew back, her orgasm burst inside. She couldn’t stop it. Her body seemed to melt into a puddle of molten cream, and she flowed all over his face, crying his name. Sobbing with thrilling delight. Moaning and moaning until her lungs were empty, her throat was dry, and she was certain that if she spread her arms, she’d fly.
She collapsed but he was there, lowering her into his embrace. Her salty, ripe, erotic taste teased her lips as he kissed her. He kissed her hard and passionately, and she was a boneless, silken, languorous puddle held in his arms.
“Grace, love—” Husky, raw, his voice washed over her.
“I thought,” Grace whispered. “I thought I wanted memories that would keep me happy when I went to bed alone—”
Devlin felt Grace change in his arms from a melting, well-pleasured woman to a stiff and awkward lady in an instant. Brushing back unruly strands of her pure gold hair with a jerky motion of her pretty hand, she gazed up at him.
Rigid, thick, swollen to the limits of its skin, his cock was pulsing, and desire and lust and need nagged in his head, harder to ignore than cannon fire. Her head had dipped and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of her wet, hot, fragrant quim. He doubted his selfish half brother had done that to her.
He bent to capture her lips again. It would be better if they did not speak, but she shook her head. “I want—”
She pulled from his embrace, tugged down her skirts. “Oh, but I was wrong. So very, very wrong. These memories are much worse than those of Wesley! These make me hot and frustrated. They will
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