Beautiful Secret
Page 75
Between her legs, my cock pressed against where I could enter her through the thin material, and I felt how slick she was beneath the satin. Groaning, I thrust my hips against her again and again, hurried and desperate, shoving her top and her bra up over her breasts to grip her, plump her in my hand.
I could imagine how it would be—how it will be—her legs around my waist and her eager hips pressing up and around, up and around, meeting every single one of my greedy thrusts. Ruby’s hands gripped my backside, urging me faster, crying out.
I held my weight from her, perched on my elbows but kissed her madly, too frenzied; my teeth slid over her skin, mouth sucking at her tongue, her lips, her neck. She didn’t seem to mind my recklessness—it seemed to thrill her, rather—and her sounds and lips and grabbing hands made me feel bloody savage.
I was close so soon—too soon—but I could take my time with her after. I needed relief from the wildness that built in me being so near her, tasting her, feeling her under me. Aching relief gathered in my back, shooting electrically down and building until, with a deep rock of my hips forward, I came, shouting into the dark room.
Ruby gasped, hands in my hair as I immediately pulled away, jerking the satin down her legs and off, bending to press my mouth to the sweetest slickness, burying my tongue between her legs.
Oh, the relief of it, of taking her, of tasting her this way.
Her cry came out choked, her hips left the floor and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I needed to be gentle and loving but as I spread her open with my fingers, sucked her and fucked her with my tongue, she only grew more frantic.
“Niall—” My name disintegrated into a gasping, breathless cry. She tugged at my hair, pulling my mouth from her. “Put me on the bed,” she managed. “Let me watch you.”
I stood, kicking out of my pants and pulling my shirt over my head before lifting her, carrying her to the mattress and helping her out of the tangle of her rumpled top. My body had slowed enough that I could stop and gaze down at her, kissing her neck until she pulled me up to her face.
“I love this,” she whispered between kisses, repeating my words to her the other night, our first intimate night in her hotel room. “Love to taste myself on your tongue.”
I felt her goose bumps beneath my palms and closed my eyes, let myself enjoy the sweet sucking kisses she gave me, the way she took my hand and led it down her body and between her legs.
Pulling my lips away, I moved to her neck, her chest, giving attention to her breasts and stomach, before settling between her legs, kissing her hip.
She ran her fingers into my hair, studying my face as I let my eyes move up and down her naked body.
“You’re so quiet all of a sudden,” she whispered.
I spread her with my fingers, and relished the feel of the pad of my thumb, wet from her, tripping back and forth over her clit. “I’m concentrating.”
And why would I want to speak over the sweet, rasping sound of her breath catching, of the sheets pulled tight in her fists?
I made pressing, steady circles and her hips rose slightly up from the mattress, rocking.
“I . . .” she started, words falling away in a strangled gasp.
“Shhhh . . .” I bent, pressing my mouth over my thumb, licking and stroking her in tandem. I’d stopped letting myself fantasize about oral sex—giving or receiving—as it was never something Portia wanted to do after our first few years together. She wanted missionary sex, music in the background so our noises weren’t so obvious, eyes closed, lights off.
But I loved the taste of a woman, loved the way this act felt at once sweet and devious. Kissing a woman here always seemed like the pinnacle of fevered sensuality: a man wanting to taste the source of his pleasure. And here, on the bed, Ruby pushed herself onto her elbows to watch me with wide eyes, her lashes so thick and dark and seeming to draw her lids down under the weight.
As I swirled my thumb and circled my tongue, her chest rose and fell under sharp breaths, her mouth opened slightly, her tongue sliding back and forth over her bottom lip.
“Do you like doing this to me?” she asked, voice barely audible.
“I don’t think like is the word I would use,” I told her, kissing her, teasing. “I don’t think anything in the world would give me more pleasure right now.”
Her breathing slowed, hips pressed up and froze when I pulled my mouth away. So close.
“Niall. Please.”
“Please what, darling?” I nibbled her hip, the delicate skin beside my hand, slowing the movements of my thumb.
I could imagine how it would be—how it will be—her legs around my waist and her eager hips pressing up and around, up and around, meeting every single one of my greedy thrusts. Ruby’s hands gripped my backside, urging me faster, crying out.
I held my weight from her, perched on my elbows but kissed her madly, too frenzied; my teeth slid over her skin, mouth sucking at her tongue, her lips, her neck. She didn’t seem to mind my recklessness—it seemed to thrill her, rather—and her sounds and lips and grabbing hands made me feel bloody savage.
I was close so soon—too soon—but I could take my time with her after. I needed relief from the wildness that built in me being so near her, tasting her, feeling her under me. Aching relief gathered in my back, shooting electrically down and building until, with a deep rock of my hips forward, I came, shouting into the dark room.
Ruby gasped, hands in my hair as I immediately pulled away, jerking the satin down her legs and off, bending to press my mouth to the sweetest slickness, burying my tongue between her legs.
Oh, the relief of it, of taking her, of tasting her this way.
Her cry came out choked, her hips left the floor and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I needed to be gentle and loving but as I spread her open with my fingers, sucked her and fucked her with my tongue, she only grew more frantic.
“Niall—” My name disintegrated into a gasping, breathless cry. She tugged at my hair, pulling my mouth from her. “Put me on the bed,” she managed. “Let me watch you.”
I stood, kicking out of my pants and pulling my shirt over my head before lifting her, carrying her to the mattress and helping her out of the tangle of her rumpled top. My body had slowed enough that I could stop and gaze down at her, kissing her neck until she pulled me up to her face.
“I love this,” she whispered between kisses, repeating my words to her the other night, our first intimate night in her hotel room. “Love to taste myself on your tongue.”
I felt her goose bumps beneath my palms and closed my eyes, let myself enjoy the sweet sucking kisses she gave me, the way she took my hand and led it down her body and between her legs.
Pulling my lips away, I moved to her neck, her chest, giving attention to her breasts and stomach, before settling between her legs, kissing her hip.
She ran her fingers into my hair, studying my face as I let my eyes move up and down her naked body.
“You’re so quiet all of a sudden,” she whispered.
I spread her with my fingers, and relished the feel of the pad of my thumb, wet from her, tripping back and forth over her clit. “I’m concentrating.”
And why would I want to speak over the sweet, rasping sound of her breath catching, of the sheets pulled tight in her fists?
I made pressing, steady circles and her hips rose slightly up from the mattress, rocking.
“I . . .” she started, words falling away in a strangled gasp.
“Shhhh . . .” I bent, pressing my mouth over my thumb, licking and stroking her in tandem. I’d stopped letting myself fantasize about oral sex—giving or receiving—as it was never something Portia wanted to do after our first few years together. She wanted missionary sex, music in the background so our noises weren’t so obvious, eyes closed, lights off.
But I loved the taste of a woman, loved the way this act felt at once sweet and devious. Kissing a woman here always seemed like the pinnacle of fevered sensuality: a man wanting to taste the source of his pleasure. And here, on the bed, Ruby pushed herself onto her elbows to watch me with wide eyes, her lashes so thick and dark and seeming to draw her lids down under the weight.
As I swirled my thumb and circled my tongue, her chest rose and fell under sharp breaths, her mouth opened slightly, her tongue sliding back and forth over her bottom lip.
“Do you like doing this to me?” she asked, voice barely audible.
“I don’t think like is the word I would use,” I told her, kissing her, teasing. “I don’t think anything in the world would give me more pleasure right now.”
Her breathing slowed, hips pressed up and froze when I pulled my mouth away. So close.
“Niall. Please.”
“Please what, darling?” I nibbled her hip, the delicate skin beside my hand, slowing the movements of my thumb.
