He watched her take her first sip and stifled a groan. He definitely enjoyed that expression on her face. He’d seen it when his fingers were buried deep inside her.
“What about your name?”
“Great grandfather,” he replied distractedly. “Mum’s side. You’re a vision in the morning, Mrs. Finn.”
One of her hands lifted as if to check her hair but she froze mid-action. “I keep forgetting about that silver tongue. I look like I’ve had a crazy night of rough sex. I’m not mad about that.”
“You had to go and mention my tongue and sex in the same sentence. And just when I was going to offer you one of my famous fry ups.”
“I thought I saw chocolate cake.”
The cup was out of her hand and her shirt on the floor before she had the chance to protest. “Stand still, brave soul. Let me show you what I see.”
William circled her graceful neck with one hand, feeling her pulse flutter and race when he started to explore with the other. He stared, transfixed by the sight of his callused fingers tracing skin like black velvet, flicking a puckering nipple teasingly before massaging the flesh around it.
The sun was up and she hadn’t disappeared, so he knew he wasn’t dreaming. He’d never had this good of an imagination anyway. He couldn’t have created these curves. Or the small, spidery scar that curved too close to her rib cage for comfort.
“Where did you get this?”
“ER rotations are never boring,” she said simply. Her hands were studying him in returning, touching the scars on his chest, his ribs. “These?”
“People rarely hand over money happily. That one,” he said when she found the slash low on his stomach. “You helped mend when some git brought a knife to a fistfight.”
William’s hand mimicked hers, cupping the soft skin of her stomach. A wave of arousal and fierce possession hit him when his fingers skimmed the trimmed triangle of tight, wet curls between her legs.
“You do think books are sexy, don’t you?” he said hoarsely. “Or is this how you wake up every morning? Ready to be silver tongued?”
Her kiss tasted like mint and coffee and laughter. He forced her mouth wider with his tongue, wanted more. Wanting everything.
His middle finger slipping through her soaked cunt made her whimper and he lowered himself to his knees in the middle of his small living room, needing to taste her again.
“My bride is here,” he quoted. “Because my equal is here, and my likeness.”
She leaned heavily into him, hands tangling in his hair. “Holy shit.”
He pressed a hot kiss to her thigh and grinned. “Just testing our theory.”
“Cocky bastard,” she groaned when he spread the lips of her pussy and proceeded to eat her as if she were his last meal on earth.
“I’m going to fall,” she gasped. “I can’t—you can’t expect me to stand while you—”
She cried out in surprise when he took her down, swift but carefully, lowering her until her thighs were framing his neck as she rode him.
“Oh God.”
This was heaven. The pain in his cock was a small price to pay for this feast.
She leaned forward, her hands on the ground above his head for leverage, her hips helplessly rocking against his mouth. “Damn, you’re too good at that.”
He slid his finger inside her, soaking it before he traced the wetness between the cheeks of her ass and rubbed her. Just there.
She reacted as if she’d been given an electric shock, but she didn’t pull away. William’s cock was practically leaking at the thought of getting her ready. Taking her round, luscious ass.
He wanted inside her in every way known to man, and a few he’d invent just to try them with her.
She came in a flood and he greedily lapped up every drop, kicking off his sweatpants before rolling her onto her back and filling her in one smooth stroke.
“Was that the kind of tonguing you were talking about?” he rasped, the feel of her climax milking his cock making his thrusts harder. So hard his balls slapped against her ass and she started to slide across the tiled floor.
He gripped her thighs and spread them wide, holding her still while he worked his way into her swollen heat. “Are you too sore? Tell me I’m not hurting you.”
“Don’t stop,” she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t you dare.”
Never. He ground his hips against her, savoring her tight heat before the punishing rhythm started again.
He should make love to her. Take his time. But every time he touched her he lost his fucking mind.
He saw her dark nipples and had to bend down to lick them, groaning when she arched her back, begging for more.
All for me.
She was like fire in his arms. An out of control conflagration that scorched him and saved him. His past was burned away and all that was left was Bronte. Pleasing Bronte. Loving Bronte.