She was wet.
Their kiss had done its job. Their conversation had done its job.
He shifted, pressing two fingers against her swollen lips down there, trapping that little bud there between them, rubbing his fingers back and forth, careful to avoid what she really wanted.
She was moving her hips back and forth, desperately seeking more.
And he loved it. Gloried and
revelled in it.
Then he put one leg of hers up over his shoulder, and another, bringing his face down so it was a scant inch from the glorious, wet heart of her.
‘Briggs...’
But he did not allow her to speak. Did not allow her to say the next word. He fastened his mouth to her, moving his tongue in firm, rhythmic strokes across her flesh.
He knew what she wanted. And he would give it to her. Almost.
He feasted on her, deep, long. Until she was panting, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
He found no particular pleasure in that, other than knowing that she was desperate for him. And for what only he could provide.
He took her close to the edge, then denied her. Pushing a finger inside her narrow, tight channel as he continued to feast on her. Took her to the edge, and then pulled back, pulled away.
She was mindless with need. Begging.
‘Soon,’ he said, working his finger in and out of her body. ‘Soon you can come.’
‘Please,’ she said.
‘Not yet.’
‘Please, Your Grace.’
Her words shot all the way to his sex, causing it to pulse.
He wanted her. Wanted nothing more than to satisfy the ache in his loins. Instead, he pushed another finger into her body, and bit down on her. She screamed, her orgasm sending a shock wave through her body, and then his.
And when it was done, he sat down on the bench, gathered her up in his arms and held her close while she sobbed out the rest of her pleasure. Held her until she quieted.
Then he rearranged her skirts, made sure that her hair was in place.
‘I cannot possibly go back in,’ she whispered.
‘Why not?’
‘I... Not after... You...’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have no such qualms.’
‘How nice for you. But that was singular for me.’
‘It was singular for me,’ he said, tracing his thumb down the side of her face. ‘You are extraordinary.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You were right. You are mine. And...’