But then he licked across the center of her. “I bet I can change your mind,” he murmured as he slid two fingers inside her. It had been a fortnight since he’d taken her innocence, since he’d loved her so completely. But this was unlike anything they’d shared before. “Trust me,” he said, his voice buried in the heat of her.
Ashley’s tongue dipped, taking her to a place she’d never been. Her sheath clenched upon his fingers as he found that little ball of tension and began to worry it with his tongue. Sophia clutched the linens into her fists and lifted her legs more comfortably around his shoulders. “Ahh,” she cried out as he sucked that little nub of pleasure into his mouth and worked his fingers inside her. “Don’t stop!” she cried as sensation swelled within her.
He murmured something unintelligible from between her thighs.
Sophia arched to meet him, anxious to get to the peak. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pushing his head in a rhythm she liked. He drew deeper on her flesh and pierced her deeper with his fingers, scissoring his fingers and setting a rhythm better than any song he’d ever played for her. The crescendo swept over her, and she bucked against his hold as she quaked around his fingers. His mouth slowed only marginally, content to take everything she had.
His ministrations quieted, and she sagged against the linens, willing her breaths to slow. His beard stubble abraded her inner thigh as he wiped his mouth there, and then he climbed up her body. “Better than any pianoforte I ever played,” he said as he settled between her thighs. He raised one knee up toward her chest and then probed at her center. “Mine,” he said as he slid slowly inside her.
***
Ashley slowly joined himself with her, inch by exquisite inch, and grunted when he was fully seated within her. Her cheeks were rosy with heat, and her body loose and languid from her climax. He would have to work to bring her another. But he was up for the challenge.
“Yours?” she asked playfully, her voice deepened by passion, sliding along his skin like silk.
“Mine,” he grunted as he pulled out of her and pushed back inside, taking as much of her as he could. Her back arched and she tilted her hips, taking even more of him.
“Such prolific words from you,” she teased, but her breath hitched as he adjusted her hip. God, he loved the noises she made.
“Did you want a soliloquy? I just gave you a song.” He stopped moving for a moment and lowered her leg, allowing himself to lie atop her. “God help me, woman,” he groaned. He wanted to spill himself already.
He rolled, pulling her atop him in the bed. She squealed playfully and stretched along his length. He was barely inside her now, and the silken hot wetness of her called to him. He kicked her legs apart with his own and tugged her knees forward until she straddled him.
He lifted, taking the tip of her breast into his mouth as he fitted her more snugly on his manhood. She surrounded him with heat. Now, as long as she didn’t move, he wouldn’t spend himself. But then she did. “Blast and damn,” he grunted.
She stilled, looking down at him with a grin. “Is something wrong?” She squeezed her wetness upon him, tormenting him anew. She began to rock her hips ever so slightly.
He turned his head and thought about Finn. About a rack of lamb. About his garden. But all thoughts led him back to Sophie. He drew his gaze back to her, and she pushed up to sit atop him with her hands flat on his chest, her elbows locked.
“I find myself in a bit of a predicament,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I need but a moment. For you to be still.” He grabbed her hips and held them, but her sheath milked at him, pulling him deeper and deeper into her body.
She smiled a siren’s smile. “You poor thing,” she crooned. Then a gasp left her throat as she raised herself slightly.
“Let me see your wings,” he begged.
She stilled. “My wings?”
“Your wings,” he said again, heedless of the panting sound of his own breath. “Let me have all of you this time.”
She moved on him slightly. “I think you already have all of me. Or I have all of you.” She laughed, which only exacerbated his need to finish.
“Let me see them. Let me touch them. Let them be part of us,” he pleaded.
She stilled, thank heavens, and closed her eyes. She waited but a moment, and then her wings appeared. They were the color of her flushed skin, a dusky rose color, interlaced with a pearly color the same as the skin of her breasts. He reached out a hand to touch the silky little hairs that stood at attention on the rims of her wing. They glittered like diamonds, like a banked fire. “Don’t touch,” she said, jerking out of her grasp. “They’re very sensitive,” she reminded him.
He took her hips and pulled her firmly onto his manhood. “So is that,” he warned.
She just grinned, and one wing arched toward him. “You can touch it, if you can be gentle,” she whispered.
The edges of the bottoms of her wings tickled his thighs, but it took his mind off his need to spend, at least.
He reached out one hand, only mildly annoyed to see his hand betray him as it quivering there in midair. When he touched the edge of her wing, she let out a hiss. Her mouth fell open. “I told you they’re sensitive,” she cried.
He moved his other hand to heat between her legs. “More sensitive than here?” he asked. He knew it was naughty, but he couldn’t help it.
“Very much like there,” she cried, as he caressed the outside of her wing, lightly stroking the length of it. “I thought I was done after the last one,” she cried.
“You were wrong?” he asked with delight. She swatted at his chest rather playfully, but then she began to move upon him. “I’ll never be done with you.”