“Yes?” she asked sweetly.
“If you sat on top of me…” but she was experimenting with rubbing a little harder, and the words died in his throat.
Still, she heard what he said. “Would you like that?” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“But you won’t leap on me, or something of that nature? Because,” she felt silly telling him again, but it had to be said, “I really don’t wish to become messy again. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I will not do anything you don’t ask me to do.”
Satisfied, she pulled up the silk of her dressing gown and straddled him. He groaned out loud this time, and Roberta froze. Suddenly, she was feeling his muscles with a whole other part of her body. It made her feel feverish, hot, as if she were melting.
When he had kissed her breasts earlier in the evening—it was shocking to remember it, and yet the memory sent a twist of liquid heat down to her thighs—he didn’t just touch her with his tongue. He suckled her, as a babe might its mother, at least so she thought. It was a strange idea and yet…She lowered her head to his chest.
It wasn’t at all like being a baby. He twisted under her mouth, and made a hoarse groan, and the sound sent another wave of liquid heat down her body. So she suckled harder, and he writhed under her.
Which had the most peculiar effect on the place between her legs.
“Roberta,” he gasped, “would you please ask me to touch you?”
“No,” she said immediately, straightening up.
His eyes were fevered with desire, but there was a lurking smile too. “I can’t stop moving if you do that,” he said, his voice rasping.
“All right,” she said, her fingers brushing over his nipples again, just to see what he would do.
What he did was arch up, which made him rub against…
She gasped and clutched his shoulders.
“Not that!” she cried.
“No?” his eyes were so disappointed.
“No.”
“Sometimes I can’t stop it,” he whispered achingly. “When you touch me, Roberta, I feel mad, out of control.”
That was a very pleasurable thing to hear. So Roberta kissed him again, and a groan tore from his throat and he was moving under her. That was rather pleasurable as well though not, of course, in the way that Selina was talking about.
“May I touch you?” he gasped.
“No!” But she wanted to touch more of him, even…even that part of him. So she moved backward, careful not to touch him, and sat on his legs instead.
Damon instantly propped himself upon his elbows, watching her. That part of him was like smooth velvet, hot to the touch, jerking against her hand.
“Don’t you have control over it?” she asked curiously.
He groaned. “Normally I do. That was an aberration.”
“What aberration? Look, every time I touch it, it moves.” She cupped her hand around him, and he fell flat back and that hoarse sound came from his throat again.
One had to wonder, Roberta thought, what he would do if she—of course, she couldn’t do that. It wasn’t done, she was sure. Except that she had a fragile memory of something Selina said…something about just this subject.
She’d thought it was disgusting at the time, but now, looking at Damon’s rigid face and the way he was breathing quickly and harshly, she rather thought that it would give her a great deal of pleasure to make him mad, as it were. Perhaps even lose control.
She tried touching her tongue to it first. It was smooth and hot on the top. Just like the rest of Damon…sleek and muscled. She actually licked it. The sound he made sounded almost like pain. She jerked up her head.
“Is this wrong? Should I not—”
“Oh God, please don’t stop.”
He tasted clean and slightly sweet.
“I think you are designing this whole night to make me understand my limits,” he gasped.