Read Online Strokes Vol #3 by Delilah Devlin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Delilah Devlin
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tugged her hand away then lowered, sticking out his tongue to stroke the nipple.
She gasped as her areola dimpled and the tip tightened. He aimed breath in a narrow stream, cooling the wet bud, then kissed it, sucking it into his mouth where he teased it with his tongue.
Heat swept over her skin. Gooseflesh prickled. Her legs moved restlessly, trapped by his weight as he moved to the other breast and renewed the sweet torture.
Her head thrashed, so many sensations bombarding her—the rasp of his beard, the pull of his lips, the liquid spilling from inside her… How had he brought her to arousal so quickly?
Again, he moved downward, his tongue tracing her ribs, dipping into her navel, then lower still. When his face was above her mound, she bowed upward in alarm. “What are you doing?”
“What I must,” he said, his voice rasping.
“’Tis sinful,” she gasped as his tongue stroked her outer folds. Sinful, but oh so pleasurable.
He raised his head to give her a narrow stare. “You would not have barred your gates against your husband if you feared Hell.”
“I barred my gates against a barbarian, knowing God would understand.”
He grunted and bent over her again, parting her with his fingers.
Good Lord, why was he looking there? She slipped her hand between them to cup her sex. “I am already wet. You have accomplished what you sought. You can enter me now.”
His head shook, as did his chest. Was he laughing at her? With her free hand, she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled. But he would not be dislodged. He pulled away her hand, and his mouth burrowed between her folds; his tongue stroked her entrance.
“Sinful,” she whispered. But, oh, it was also glorious. Her hips bucked when his thumb rasped across the sensitive knot at the top of her folds. “Oh, please, please stop.” But her hands clutched his hair, pulling her to him, anchoring him there, because now, she was desperate for the release his efforts promised.
When his lips latched around her hard knot, she whimpered. When two of his thick fingers entered her, she bucked. But he held her still, drawing hard on her knot, fingers pumping inside her. Her back arched and she cried out, darkness closing around her vision.
When she came back to herself, he was kneeling between her thighs.
She waited, spellbound, as he came over her and began to push inside her.
Although she was wet, her quim burned as he stretched her, shallow thrusts breaching her then sinking deeper with each steady forward push. She slid her heels up the mattress, curving her hips to accept his thrusts. Glancing between them, she watched, fascinated with the sight of his thick shaft disappearing inside her. Tension built inside her womb again.
He made a growling sound, and she glanced up. Passion tightened his cheeks. A deep flush was spreading there. His eyes were losing their focus, becoming smokier, his lids falling. He was finding pleasure, intense pleasure, if the quivering of his arms and shoulders was any indication.
And suddenly she felt powerful, no longer the conquered one. Her own motives began to disintegrate beneath the blistering heat they built. There was pleasure in surrender, but it went both ways.
“Stop,” she whispered.
He went still, his gaze falling to her face. Slowly he pulled free of her. His chest billowed around deep breaths, and he held himself on his arms above her. “Did I cause you pain?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She shook her head. Then without saying a word, she reached down and slid her fingers around the base of his cock, all the while marveling at the thickness, the steel-like firmness wrapped in warm, supple skin. She pulled him forward, fit his head against her entrance, then glanced up to meet his gaze. “I am not sorry I barred my gates to you.”
He held still, his gaze studying her face.
“Had we met in a normal fashion, I would have dismissed you as I have a dozen suitors before you. I have had little respect or
She gasped as her areola dimpled and the tip tightened. He aimed breath in a narrow stream, cooling the wet bud, then kissed it, sucking it into his mouth where he teased it with his tongue.
Heat swept over her skin. Gooseflesh prickled. Her legs moved restlessly, trapped by his weight as he moved to the other breast and renewed the sweet torture.
Her head thrashed, so many sensations bombarding her—the rasp of his beard, the pull of his lips, the liquid spilling from inside her… How had he brought her to arousal so quickly?
Again, he moved downward, his tongue tracing her ribs, dipping into her navel, then lower still. When his face was above her mound, she bowed upward in alarm. “What are you doing?”
“What I must,” he said, his voice rasping.
“’Tis sinful,” she gasped as his tongue stroked her outer folds. Sinful, but oh so pleasurable.
He raised his head to give her a narrow stare. “You would not have barred your gates against your husband if you feared Hell.”
“I barred my gates against a barbarian, knowing God would understand.”
He grunted and bent over her again, parting her with his fingers.
Good Lord, why was he looking there? She slipped her hand between them to cup her sex. “I am already wet. You have accomplished what you sought. You can enter me now.”
His head shook, as did his chest. Was he laughing at her? With her free hand, she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled. But he would not be dislodged. He pulled away her hand, and his mouth burrowed between her folds; his tongue stroked her entrance.
“Sinful,” she whispered. But, oh, it was also glorious. Her hips bucked when his thumb rasped across the sensitive knot at the top of her folds. “Oh, please, please stop.” But her hands clutched his hair, pulling her to him, anchoring him there, because now, she was desperate for the release his efforts promised.
When his lips latched around her hard knot, she whimpered. When two of his thick fingers entered her, she bucked. But he held her still, drawing hard on her knot, fingers pumping inside her. Her back arched and she cried out, darkness closing around her vision.
When she came back to herself, he was kneeling between her thighs.
She waited, spellbound, as he came over her and began to push inside her.
Although she was wet, her quim burned as he stretched her, shallow thrusts breaching her then sinking deeper with each steady forward push. She slid her heels up the mattress, curving her hips to accept his thrusts. Glancing between them, she watched, fascinated with the sight of his thick shaft disappearing inside her. Tension built inside her womb again.
He made a growling sound, and she glanced up. Passion tightened his cheeks. A deep flush was spreading there. His eyes were losing their focus, becoming smokier, his lids falling. He was finding pleasure, intense pleasure, if the quivering of his arms and shoulders was any indication.
And suddenly she felt powerful, no longer the conquered one. Her own motives began to disintegrate beneath the blistering heat they built. There was pleasure in surrender, but it went both ways.
“Stop,” she whispered.
He went still, his gaze falling to her face. Slowly he pulled free of her. His chest billowed around deep breaths, and he held himself on his arms above her. “Did I cause you pain?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She shook her head. Then without saying a word, she reached down and slid her fingers around the base of his cock, all the while marveling at the thickness, the steel-like firmness wrapped in warm, supple skin. She pulled him forward, fit his head against her entrance, then glanced up to meet his gaze. “I am not sorry I barred my gates to you.”
He held still, his gaze studying her face.
“Had we met in a normal fashion, I would have dismissed you as I have a dozen suitors before you. I have had little respect or