Page 120 of Frankly, My Dear

Bracing himself on one elbow, James slid off her to his side and traced a forefinger over her mouth, along her chin, down the thin column of her neck, to her breasts. He took a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. “Have I told you that I love your breasts?”

“Yes.” She stretched her upper body with a cat-like purr at the delicious, agonizing pleasure.

Lowering his mouth, he laved the aching pebble with his tongue, bringing it to even more heightened sensitivity, rolling it between his lips, flicking it back and forth. When he began to suckle rhythmically, Selene reached overhead to grasp the spindles of the headboard. He moved to the other breast, giving it equal attention, murmuring naughty words of appreciation.

“Sweet…sweet…your moans are so damned sweet, chérie.”

With each suckle, Selene felt a tantalizing pull deep in her woman’s center, and the wetness between her legs grew thick and molten.

Suddenly Selene began to ride upward on the waves of an overpowering climax, keening aloud.

James stopped. He stopped.

Dropping to his back, he threw an arm over his face, gasping for breath.

Selene stared at him in shock. “You drive me to the point of madness, and then you stop. Are you really that cruel?”

He peeked at her through the splayed fingers of one hand. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, darlin’.”

“Hah!” The she looked downward and saw his huge erection, so engorged the veins stood out in waiting for the tight embrace of her sheath. “Why?” she asked, placing a hand on his chest, playing with his flat nipples, just as he had hers. His sharp inhale pleased her immensely. She trailed her fingertips lower, over his ridged abdomen and flat stomach. When she reached for that male part of him, he grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

“No?” she asked and swung her leg over his hips, straddling him. “Do you mean no, you don’t want me to do this?” she asked and slipped her tongue between his parted lips, kissing him hungrily.

He groaned.

“Or do you mean this?” she teased, nipping at his nipples.

He sucked in his stomach muscles, fighting the raging arousal that consumed them both.

“Or this?” she said, sighing, and took his male organ between both hands guiding it into her slickness.

“Yes,” he said in a voice that seemed to come from far off, and he bucked upward, filling her, impaling her almost to the womb. Placing both hands on her hips, he held her in place, gritting his teeth to hold back his climax.

But Selene was not so strong. Like a tightly wound ball of fiery threads, she began to unravel. And her hot inner folds convulsed around him in fierce waves of flowing lava.

“Mon Dieu!” he ground out. “Oh, Mon Dieu, you feel like velvet fire.”

Her chin dropped to her chest as she fought for breath.

Only then did he begin to rock her gently. Reaching up, his slender fingers with their work-callused pads touched only the tips of her throbbing breasts, then moved lower to the wet pearl that seemed more like a marble between her legs.

Her womanly sheath clasped him spasmodically. And she climaxed again, to her amazement and his delight.

She whimpered incoherently.

He murmured tender words of encouragement. “You look so…so beautiful when you peak.”

“I never…I never…” In the throes of her continuing passion, she could barely speak.

“You are trembling.”

“Your heart is beating madly,” she answered.

“Your skin tastes like smooth satin.”

“Your skin tastes better than beignets.”