The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

amongst the folds of my sex…well, I can come very quickly, again and again, from such attentions.

But he refused to let me do so, withdrawing his mouth too often to permit me that final release. It was as if he knew exactly when to stop, and I know I gasped more than once at his exquisite timing. 

He eased away from me, leaving me wet and aching, his skin shining with my juices and a look on his face that shot straight to my loins.

This was desire. This was lust. This was everything a woman could ever want to see on a man’s face.

He stood, drew back the covers and let me slide onto the bed. Then he followed me, but I had not noticed he brought a stocking with him. I discovered that when he pulled my arms above my head and tied my wrists together with it, looping the ends around a carving on the headboard.

He smiled then, a powerful smile that did nothing to ease my own lust for him. “Are you comfortable?”

How was I to answer that question? I was stretched, my breasts upthrust, helpless to move my arms or hands. Bared to his gaze, and—I quickly realised—completely under his control. So I merely nodded, for indeed I was in no pain.

But I had to wonder what he had planned for me.

I did not expect what he did next.

He found the other stocking and used it to blindfold me.

It is not easy to describe the myriad of sensations coursing through me at that moment. Shock, of course, at being deprived of my sight. A frisson of arousal too; I could feel my nipples hardening at the merest touch of the air. 

And an awareness of the silence in the room. I could hear the fire burning, little pops now and again. I could smell the smoke, the soap we used on the bedding - and I could smell Royce. Then I felt his breath warming my skin as the bed dipped down on one side. 

He was next to me. 

And every inch of my body blazed brighter than the fire at the thought of him, naked, beside me.

I shivered as a finger ran from the centre of my neck down between my breasts, over my stomach and to my mound, stopping short of going further.

He did it again and again, and I couldn’t help begging him to do more. His gentle laugh was most wonderful, but again he whispered only one word - “Patience.”

I fast realised I have very little when it comes to Royce.

When he substituted his mouth for that roaming finger, I believe my whole body arched toward him, hungry for his kisses, eager for whatever he wanted to do to me.

Once again, he traced the route over me, but this time he paused at my breasts, sucking and laving the sensitive tips until I was ready to come, trembling again on the brink.

And, damn him, once again he moved back, my nipples harder than ever and cold where his wet mouth had left moist kisses.

How long he subjected me to this divine torture, I have no idea. But eventually I felt him straddle me, pressing the bed down with his knees on either side. I believe I moaned with pleasure. Perhaps now he would do what I wanted. I opened my mouth to beg him, but he placed a finger on my lips. “Patience.”

I swore if he told me that again I would find a way to free myself and return such torture.

Then I felt something else against my lips. It wasn’t his finger. How eager was I? I cannot write words adequate to how greedily I opened my mouth and sucked his cock. I slicked it, sucked it, soaked it and would have readily finished him, swallowing everything with joy. 

But once again, this man with amazing control pulled away after a few minutes, leaving me bereft and himself still hard.

He slid downward, rubbing his cock everywhere. My breasts ached as he tapped my nipples and petted my breasts, then pushed them together around his silky rigid length.

He entertained himself by playing with my restrained body and aroused me to heights indescribable.

When, at long last, he arrived between my thighs, I was more than willing to spread them wide. I implored him, babbling, telling him to take me, finish me, or I would not survive.

This time, thank God, he did not advise me to be patient. It seemed he had reached his own threshold as well. He pushed my legs even further apart and then bent my knees, splaying them outward, offering every tiny piece of my sex to his gaze.

Blinded, my hands tied, I felt so open to him. I was on display for his pleasure, and yet knew that if he decided to take it, I would get equal if not more satisfaction from the act.

And I was right.

I felt him settle, and then his strong hands slipped under my buttocks and lifted me just as he slid forward. He pulled me to him and then, finally, that which I so desired above all things happened.

He thrust his cock into my body, a sharp, deep penetration, filling me so wonderfully I could not help crying out with joy.

“Now, Gwyneth,” he whispered. “Let go for me.”

He moved, slowly at first, sliding in and out, rubbing me with his thickness, and bringing me so much pleasure with each stroke I believe I wept tears of delight. 

He must have been as aroused as I, since he moved more rapidly, in and out, his breathing harsh even as mine came in quick gasps.

“Royce.” I remember crying his name as my lust rose rapidly.

“Yes,” he answered. “Let go, Gwyneth.”

I could not have disobeyed even if I had wanted to. My body was