I shook my head, speechless. I had no idea, but I wanted to find out. He dipped his head, licking my clit, and I bowed, legs splaying wider, rocking my clit up into his mouth. Yes. Yes, this was it. The best. This was everything. The first orgasm hit before he even got a finger inside me. He let me come down, stretching out beside me, petting my breasts and whispering in my ear.
"I love the way you look when you come. Your eyes get so wide, and then they squeeze shut. It's so hot. Beautiful. I don't care if I just came, I want you all over again."
Just as I got my breath back, he was there again, filling me with his fingers, licking, sucking, one hand curved around my hip, fingers digging in as he ate my pussy with skill and ferocity. I twisted, rolled my hips, anything I could do to encourage him to lose control and just fuck me, but he refused, making me come again with his mouth before sliding back up to stroke me down and tease me with his soft words and butterfly kisses.
I'd started out wanting another hard and fast fuck. I didn't want to think about more. To think about my feelings. My heart. I wanted hands and mouth and his cock inside me. I tried, using what little freedom I had to try to drive Tenn as wild as I was. It worked, but not the way I'd planned. His grip on my hips got tighter, his mouth on my body hungrier, more demanding.
He didn't break. Didn't fuck me fast and hard like I thought I wanted. He made me come again and again, surrounding me with touch, soft words, so intimate and revealing. He held nothing back, seducing my heart along with my body until I stopped fighting his tenderness and let him have what he wanted.
Everything.
In exchange for so much sweetness, Tenn could have everything.
I was limp after the third orgasm. Or maybe it was the fourth. I lost count. I just know that when he finally pressed his cock inside me, I gave him a blissful smile and wrapped my legs around his hips, wanting Tenn to find the same pleasure he'd given me.
My legs were wobbly when we finally got up, my lips curved in a goofy smile, my brain spinning.
"I have to get back to work," Tenn whispered in my ear, helping me pull my shirt down and straighten my bra.
"K. Me, too."
One more kiss and he was gone, leaving me still wobbling and trying to remember what I had to get back to. Oh, yeah, the figurine case. And then Parker's room, and after that, on to the library. I sank down onto the plush velvet of the chaise and stared at my knees.
I'd never had sex like that. Not even close.
That's because it wasn't sex. That's what they mean by making love. He made love to me.
I shied away from that thought even as I felt its truth. Sex was great, but Tenn had made love to me. Worshipped me with his body, with his words, with everything he had. How was I supposed to resist a man like that?
I wasn't. A man like Tenn was a gift. Someone to be cherished, not resisted.
The thought left me sick at heart. I wasn't in the position to cherish any man. Sex, making love, fucking—it didn't matter what I called it, it was too much. Too much distraction, too much complication, too much whatever. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the arguments I'd been having with myself since the second I set eyes on Tennessee Sawyer.
I had a task at Heartstone Manor and falling for Tenn Sawyer was not it. I tried to remind myself of that, but my worries weren't enough to dim my sexed-out glow. I got started on the rest of the display cabinet, the post-orgasm hum in my body gradually distracting me from my worries. That and the hope that I might find the Vitellius once I finished with the display cabinet.
I was done with the guest wing in another half hour and moved on to Parker's room. Everything there was neat, only a stray hairpin to reveal that someone lived there. Her room wasn't what I'd expected. Based on the little I'd seen of her, I guess I thought it would be conventionally pretty.
Instead, she'd decorated her rooms in a deep navy with accents of cream and aged gold. She'd furnished it with antiques, the pieces substantial but not bulky. Here and there, she had touches of something… different. A delicate glass sculpture of a fairy I instantly coveted. A woven silk scarf in a riot of color draped over the back of an armchair.
She had a few beautiful pieces of art, some valuable and some not as much. None were the Vitellius. Of course not. I could see from her rooms that Parker had an elegant, ageless style with hints of whimsy. She has far too much class and appreciation for beauty to display the squat little bust of Vitellius.