As if in answer, she began kissing his ribs, her hands massaging his back muscles, scraping her nails down his spine until he shuddered. He groaned in agonized anticipation when she dropped to her knees before him. Christ. It’d been so long for him, he didn’t think he could stand the buildup to bliss. He couldn’t understand in that moment how he’d ever lived without it.
She released his cock and jerked down his clothing beneath it. Her cool fingers gripping his swollen flesh made him wonder if steam would rise off him, he was so overheated. She held him naked in her hand, his underwear bunched around his balls, stroking his length firmly, no shyness or reluctance, her motions sure and firm, even a little rough . . . just like a man liked it.
Just like he liked it. Just like he’d taught her.
She bathed the head almost delicately with her tongue while she jacked the stalk vigorously. She looked up and met his stare as she arrowed him between her lips. He inhaled sharply as she sucked, and his cock slid along her warm tongue. He read the message in her eyes and it made him want to shout. Weep. Punish her for making him feel so much. Come in Francesca’s sweet mouth and never stop. He furrowed his fingers into her hair and pulsed into the heaven of her, opting for the latter choice.
Sex was the way he’d learned best to demonstrate his feelings. He was just a man, after all. Still, wonder spiced his arousal. From where had this loving come on her part? This generosity? He couldn’t understand it. All he could do was drown in it.
He never blinked as he looked down at her, eating up her image even as she consumed him. His girth stretched her lips wide. Her cheeks hollowed out as she treated him to that strong, singular suck that used to keep him awake at night in recollection. His cock popped out of her mouth when she leaned back extra forcefully. She slapped the bobbing stalk playfully, gave him an eye-crossing stroke from balls to tip with her fist, and then reinserted him into her mouth. She dragged her teeth back and forth over the sensitive head gently before she firmed her lips, ducked her head, and sucked him deep.
He groaned and tightened his fingers against her scalp, clamping his eyelids shut. The image of her was too arousing. He flexed his hips, his taut movements matching hers. Still, he was careful not to be too demanding. She hadn’t done this in a while. Neither had he, and he wanted to stretch the exquisite moment . . . hang on.
He’d always known how free she was with her love, how unselfish, but today, at that moment, the truth cut at the heart of him. The pleasure sliced just as deep. What right did he have to always take what she offered so innocently, so wholly?
He stilled his flexing hips, restraining himself, but she grabbed a buttock with her free hand. She pushed, and he opened his eyes. She ducked her head, swallowing his cock, jerking slightly as the tip squeezed into her throat. Her nostrils flared. She moved her head back, pulling at him so strongly he gritted his teeth.
She pleaded with her eyes.
His groan felt like it ripped at his throat. He held her head in his hands, his thumbs bracketing the tops of her jaw, and thrust, taking what she offered so sweetly. If she gave, did that mean he deserved? He didn’t know. He didn’t care, he was being flayed alive by her mouth, by her love. Time stretched as he stared down at her, rapt, and she made love to him with fierce precision.
It was too fucking sweet.
He thrust deep and erupted, almost immediately jerking his body back in order to free her throat, ejaculating on her tongue. He held her to him, fucking her tight, wet mouth with his convulsing cock, giving her his seed and whatever else had been ripped loose from inside his spirit.
His body tightened in one last blast of searing pleasure.
He sagged, staggering slightly, and quickly righting himself, lest his cock impale her. He slid out of her mouth during his dazed fumbling. She grabbed his hips. A ragged laugh left his raw throat.
“What?” she asked, confusion and the beginning of a smile starting on her slick, swollen mouth. He’d left a white drop of semen on her bottom lip when he’d stumbled. Her beauty seemed to flash like a bright headlight on his already disoriented brain, stunning him.
“You actually act like you could steady me,” he said, referring to their disparate size and weight.
She kissed the tip of his glistening cock. He groaned roughly at the erotic vision she made.
“I can steady you,” she said, holding his stare. His smile faded. She rose before him, took his hand and led him over to the bed.
Chapter Nine
“We never even took off our coats,” Ian said wryly under his breath as he helped her remove her T-shirt a moment later. He didn’t know how she’d done it: given him the most intimate, heart-wrenching, balls-emptying experience of his life while they were almost both completely dressed and wearing winter coats. They sat at the edge of the mattress, Ian in only his unbuttoned pants, Francesca almost nude, their coats and discarded garments forming a pile at the bottom of the bed. He pulled the T-shirt over her head, and she seemed to notice his furrowed brows.
“What is it?” she asked
“Why?”
“Why what?” she wondered, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and pausing to sink her fingers into the muscle, rubbing until he closed his eyes in pleasure. It’s one of the many things he loved about her. She was such an innate sensualist, always curious to experience, touch . . . taste. Yet another reason it was such a blessedly good thing that they both enjoyed it when she was restrained during sex. Her touch tended to erase all of his typical control.
“Why aren’t you angry anymore?” he asked gruffly, taking the caressing hand in his own and kissing the palm.