you’ve felt a fraction of the pleasure you’ve given me.” He hissed in a breath and thrust against her hand. “You’re so eager.”
“I was always eager.” She released him and rocked up to her knees. The flimsy length of her nightgown lay tangled around her body, caught on her hips and falling from one shoulder. Without taking her gaze from his, she curled her fingers in the fabric and eased it up and over her head. “You make me shameless.”
He clenched his fists around the sheets. “How shameless?”
So shameless she was tempted to risk conceiving. Tempted—but unwilling to take the chance. Instead she dropped her hand to the hard muscle of his thigh. “What would please you most?” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Not trying to sleep with this hard-on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you shy now, Wilder? Too shy to tell me where you want my hands or my mouth or any other part of me that tickles your fancy?”
“Want to hear the naughty words, huh?” His hand slid up over her cheek and into her hair, then closed tightly, pulling. “Put that sweet mouth on my cock and make me come.” Not quite rough, but his grip still commanded. She let him urge her head down, bending over him even though the angle was awkward. Scooting her hips toward the head of the bed helped, but she still found herself off balance, one hand braced against the bed between his knees, the other resting on his stomach.
Her position might be vulnerable, but there was power in taking him between her lips. He went rigid, whispering encouragement as she savored the taste of him with slow, lingering licks.
Far too soon, his grip in her hair grew almost painful. “I said for you to make me come,” he rasped.
“Stop teasing.”
The thread of desperation in his voice was better than the pleasure he’d given her. Need. In that moment he needed her as badly as she needed him, their mutual satisfaction assured.
Well, almost assured. She’d been bedded thoroughly and skillfully in the past, but never repeatedly.
Most affairs had lasted days at most, and a wide variety of experiences didn’t precisely translate to being experienced.
40
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Wilder’s Mate
Still, she had enthusiasm. Parting her lips, she took as much of his cock as she could manage. He arched up, groaning her name, and she shivered at the giddy pleasure of seeing a hard man undone beneath her touch.
She worked him until her own arousal had built again, then lifted her head and watched his face as she reached for his free hand. “Help me,” she whispered as she moved their twined fingers toward his cock.
“Tell me what you like. Show me how to touch you.”
Wilder wrapped both their hands around the rigid length of his erection and thrust up into their shared grip. “Harder.”
His hand tightened around hers, showing her what he wanted. A firm, rough touch, his hips driving with enough force to make her body weak. Too easy to imagine him taking her like this, the way he’d fill her so fully that no amount of arousal would diminish the sweet friction of a demanding claiming.
The ache between her thighs blossomed into a throb. She shifted her body and tugged lightly against his grip on her hair. When his fingers slipped free she sat up and knelt astride one of his thighs, one hand still trapped beneath his and the other smoothing down her body. “Would you like to tell me how I should touch myself, or shall I do what pleases me?”
He grinned, feral and hungry, and the muscles in his thigh flexed under her. “I can make you come just like this.”
Maybe he could, at that. A bit of squirming was all it took before his next thrust rubbed his leg against her so hot and perfect that her mouth fell open. It was hard to decide where to rest her gaze—on the large, rough hand curled around her own, or on Wilder’s face as he watched her, hungry and sure.
His hips bucked against their hands, and he groaned again. “Fuck.” The
“I was always eager.” She released him and rocked up to her knees. The flimsy length of her nightgown lay tangled around her body, caught on her hips and falling from one shoulder. Without taking her gaze from his, she curled her fingers in the fabric and eased it up and over her head. “You make me shameless.”
He clenched his fists around the sheets. “How shameless?”
So shameless she was tempted to risk conceiving. Tempted—but unwilling to take the chance. Instead she dropped her hand to the hard muscle of his thigh. “What would please you most?” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Not trying to sleep with this hard-on.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you shy now, Wilder? Too shy to tell me where you want my hands or my mouth or any other part of me that tickles your fancy?”
“Want to hear the naughty words, huh?” His hand slid up over her cheek and into her hair, then closed tightly, pulling. “Put that sweet mouth on my cock and make me come.” Not quite rough, but his grip still commanded. She let him urge her head down, bending over him even though the angle was awkward. Scooting her hips toward the head of the bed helped, but she still found herself off balance, one hand braced against the bed between his knees, the other resting on his stomach.
Her position might be vulnerable, but there was power in taking him between her lips. He went rigid, whispering encouragement as she savored the taste of him with slow, lingering licks.
Far too soon, his grip in her hair grew almost painful. “I said for you to make me come,” he rasped.
“Stop teasing.”
The thread of desperation in his voice was better than the pleasure he’d given her. Need. In that moment he needed her as badly as she needed him, their mutual satisfaction assured.
Well, almost assured. She’d been bedded thoroughly and skillfully in the past, but never repeatedly.
Most affairs had lasted days at most, and a wide variety of experiences didn’t precisely translate to being experienced.
40
www.samhainpublishing.com
Wilder’s Mate
Still, she had enthusiasm. Parting her lips, she took as much of his cock as she could manage. He arched up, groaning her name, and she shivered at the giddy pleasure of seeing a hard man undone beneath her touch.
She worked him until her own arousal had built again, then lifted her head and watched his face as she reached for his free hand. “Help me,” she whispered as she moved their twined fingers toward his cock.
“Tell me what you like. Show me how to touch you.”
Wilder wrapped both their hands around the rigid length of his erection and thrust up into their shared grip. “Harder.”
His hand tightened around hers, showing her what he wanted. A firm, rough touch, his hips driving with enough force to make her body weak. Too easy to imagine him taking her like this, the way he’d fill her so fully that no amount of arousal would diminish the sweet friction of a demanding claiming.
The ache between her thighs blossomed into a throb. She shifted her body and tugged lightly against his grip on her hair. When his fingers slipped free she sat up and knelt astride one of his thighs, one hand still trapped beneath his and the other smoothing down her body. “Would you like to tell me how I should touch myself, or shall I do what pleases me?”
He grinned, feral and hungry, and the muscles in his thigh flexed under her. “I can make you come just like this.”
Maybe he could, at that. A bit of squirming was all it took before his next thrust rubbed his leg against her so hot and perfect that her mouth fell open. It was hard to decide where to rest her gaze—on the large, rough hand curled around her own, or on Wilder’s face as he watched her, hungry and sure.
His hips bucked against their hands, and he groaned again. “Fuck.” The
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