Page 8 of To Tame a Wicked Widow

“Yes,” she gasped. “Oh yes. Harder. Now scrape it with your teeth…mmmm…”

Back and forth he went between her nipples, sucking and licking and tugging them with his teeth while she writhed on the bed, unable to be still. Just when she was ready to beg for more, Ethan trailed kisses down her belly until he reached the top of her mound. Then he brushed the back of one finger against the soaked curls, and the absorption on his face as he tested and stroked nearly made her come instantly.

“What a pretty cunt you have. So wet and hot.”

Oh God. How did he know she loved explicit talk in the bedchamber?

“You should know,” she said reluctantly, “not all women like such, ah, blunt words. Some don’t like any talking at all.”

He looked up and frowned. “That is a shame. I like to note my observations. And I dislike flowery euphemisms. I suppose I could at least be guided by my lady’s sounds and how wet she is.”

“Not necessarily. Your future wife may tolerate only the bare minimum of touching and time during marital relations. Or be very nervous. She could require a little oil inside her to ease the way. Otherwise, you’ll hurt her with your cock, especially one of that length and girth.”

Ethan blushed, but in his eyes she saw pure male satisfaction. “Would it help if I started with a finger?”

“Yes. A good lover always prepares. A pussy has several pleasure points, but it must be readied carefully. And some ladies do not reach climax with a finger or cock inside them, but instead prefer to have their clitoris stroked or kissed.”

“I see. In the interests of research, I should like to try both. Do you mind?”

Madeline’s breathing hitched. “Start with my clitoris. Up the top there, see? Wet your thumb and touch it.”

A frown of intense concentration furrowing his brow, Ethan parted her nether curls and gently caressed the swollen nub. Soon her hips involuntarily lifted and circled, rubbing her mound against his hand in a desperate attempt for friction to achieve the explosive climax hovering at the edge of her senses. Hell and damnation, she wasn’t going to survive this. And yet Ethan, despite his engorged cock bobbing against his abdomen, remained wholly preoccupied in exploring her pussy. How could he be so bloody calm?

Finally, finally, he leaned down and stabbed his tongue between the slick folds of her labia, lapping at her wetness as he dragged it up toward her clitoris.

She groaned, the raw, guttural sound echoing in the bedchamber.

“Oh no. That won’t do,” he said in that deliciously stern tone again, and as his shoulders forced her thighs wide apart, one big hand reached up to lightly cover her mouth.

A jolt of pure lust arrowed straight to her throbbing center at the form of restraint, but she was glad of Ethan’s caution as he began to lick and suck her clitoris, while the middle finger of his free hand inched inside her, in and out, in and out, in an increasingly proficient manner as he searched for and found the spot that felt so very, very good.

Her hips bucking, and fingers tangled in his hair, Madeline ground her pussy against his mouth in a desperate plea for orgasm. Ethan twisted his finger again, and all at once she tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, her scream of pleasure barely muffled by his hand as her whole body shuddered in wave after wave of perfect completion.

Eventually she returned from the heavens, and stared at him, stunned. “Well, I never.”

He didn’t smile. Instead, Ethan fisted his cock, slicking the head with its own moisture. “I need to fuck you now,” he growled, the fierce, primitive desire in his gaze almost making her climax again.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Slow to start, then deep and hard. But you can’t come in me.”

“I won’t,” he promised, even as an expression she couldn’t decipher flashed briefly across his face.

And then she could only urge him on as he swirled the head of his cock against her soaked folds, fitted himself against her entrance and inched forward.

Madeline gasped, balancing on a perfect knife edge of pleasure and pain as his thickness stretched her inner walls. He groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily and sending him deep into her pussy in one rough, achingly good surge. Instinctively, she locked her thighs around his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders to hold him close as she rocked against him. It took several awkward thrusts before they moved together as one, but the resulting friction and maximum penetration had her writhing in delight. Soon, far too soon, every muscle tightened in the familiar prelude to climax, and her back arched, her fingernails biting into his flesh as an abandoned cry tore from her throat and her pussy began to pulse wildly around him.

“Yes. That’s it,” he rasped. “Come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

The unexpected endearment startled her so much she almost forgot to loosen her hold on him so he could easily withdraw, but just in time he pulled free, covering her mound and lower belly with ropes of pearly seed before collapsing on top of her.

Unbidden, one hand reached up to stroke the back of his neck, while her mind raced.

Had a part of her actually wanted him to spill inside her and risk a pregnancy?

No. She’d never do that to any man, let alone one a long way from contemplating marriage or children. Any child of hers would be created in love, because they both wished to be parents. And yet, she couldn’t dislodge the thought. A little boy with dark hair and amber eyes. Perhaps a red-haired little girl.

Highly unsettled, Madeline closed her eyes.

She was in deep trouble.