She tilted her head back in response, rocking into his touch and demanding more. She trusted him with her body. He knew she did. When she was with him like this, at least, she held nothing back.
The thought that he didn’t have all of her made him rougher than he meant to be when he brought them down to the matted floor. “Hands and knees, Bronte. I need to remind myself how you taste before I fuck you.”
She hesitated for less than a heartbeat before obeying, her ass in the air, wiggling back and forth, tempting him. He dragged her pants and underwear down to her knees, hands gravitating to the fleshy curves he’d revealed.
He squeezed and caressed her, mouth watering at the sight. “I would write a poem about this ass if I had the skill. Maybe a song.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You like big butts and you cannot lie?”
The first smack was satisfying. She shouted in surprise and shot him a look over her shoulder, but he was too entranced by the way she tilted her hips in offering, silently asking for more. He did it again.
“It’s a song! I was joking.”
And again.
Smack.
“You think I don’t know it? We did get music in Ireland, love.”
“I thought you said you wanted a taste,” she panted, her eyes narrowing on his smug expression.
“Oh, I do.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Keep spanking my ass and you might not get the chance.”
William leaned over her, his front to her back as he bit her chin and pressed his jean-covered erection against her abused flesh. “Your body doesn’t lie. You like how it feels. You didn’t think you would, but then you’re learning all sorts of new things about yourself on your impulsive trip to Baltimore, aren’t you?”
She pressed her lips together, moaning when he pumped against her again. “Let me tell you what I’ve learned about this body since last night. The good daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne likes a little pain with her pleasure. Not too much. Just enough to get her attention.”
He pinched her clit with barely enough pressure to make her squirm. “She likes to walk the line between nice and naughty. Vanilla and—”
“Nothing about me is vanilla,” she interrupted, making him laugh through his arousal.
“I’m aware. You smell like peaches and cream, taste like sin itself and feel softer than anything a rough-handed prat like me should ever be allowed to touch. But my wife’s body likes having my hands on her.” He slid off her back and lowered his head between her thighs. “And she loves my mouth.”
Spreading her cheeks as he licked her, he let her enjoy the sting and the lingering heat from his palms. He could practically feel the struggle inside her. Her mind telling her she shouldn’t like it, shouldn’t be doing this in public at all. Her body saying it wanted more. That she didn’t care who saw them as long as he didn’t stop. It made her hot to think she was being bad.
He knew his woman.
Her addictive flavor was filling his mouth and he closed his eyes, savoring her loud moans and demanding pleas.
If they were really in public, he’d have to cover her mouth with his hand to keep her quiet, or everyone would know the name of the man who was making her come and exactly how much she was enjoying it.
Fuck, the thought of it made him worry he’d come before he had the chance to get inside her.
He managed to hold out until she came and then he was up on his knees, nearly shredding his zipper in his impatience to get to her. Get inside.
Need to get inside.
She was tight and hot and he had to count backwards from one hundred so he wouldn’t come with that first thrust. By the time he got to ninety-five she was already working herself back onto his shaft like she couldn’t wait. Couldn’t get enough.
With one hand he pushed her shirt and bra up until her breasts were free, palming them tightly as he started to move.
“Every damn time.” He pressed his mouth against her neck, hips rolling as he ground against her, needing to be as deep as he could go. “Bronte, love, you’re so hot I never want to leave. Can you take more? Do you want it—”
“Harder,” she said, before he could ask. “I can take whatever you want to give me.”
His laugh against her silky hair was shaky. “Sure about that, Mrs. Finn?” He lifted off her back and gripped her hips in warning. “I guess we’ll find out together.”
He pulled out until he was barely inside her before powering back in with a guttural groan. She was moving against him, fighting for control until he tightened his hold to let her know who was in charge of this ride. It would end when he was ready, and not a second sooner. He wanted it to last. He needed it to last.