Folly Read Free

her hips.
    “Please.” A whisper. But a whisper that nearly unmanned him.
He continued this delicious exploration, rubbing his palm along her bare
thighs. He found dampness long before he reached her core. Hell. Her inner
thighs were coated with cream.
    He nearly came right then.
    Nearly.
    He wasn’t stupid.
    He clenched his balls against the overriding urge to purge
and continued the upward trek, holding her stunned gaze all the while. Her lips
were parted, damp. Her eyes were clouded and tiny tears clung to her lashes.
Her breast heaved as she gasped for breath. And then she froze. She tipped her
head, and arched her body. Her muscles clenched.
    For he had found her.
    And damn. She wasn’t wearing any smallclothes. No annoying
stockings. Or anything.
    He rested his forehead on her shoulder, desperately trying
to retain the slipping leash of his control. She was wet. And hot. Her pearl,
when he found it, stroked it, was a hard slick button. As he nudged her bud,
she cried out, shuddered. He thought, perhaps, she came right then.
    To be sure, he slid a finger into her sweltering canal. He
stilled. God, she was tight. And yes. She twitched around him, tiny shivers
hinting that she was poised on the edge of a crisis.
    His body seized. He yanked out and, despite her cry of
protest, tossed up her skirts. He eased her back on the cushion when she tried
to sit. “Mignon,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
    With a whimper, she complied. Ethan readjusted his position,
lowering his body so he was level with her belly. And he kissed her there. He
was aware of her cries, her whimpers and her groans, but he was intent. He
wanted to taste her. Had to taste her.
    He kissed her belly, dabbing his tongue into her navel,
drawing it across her trembling flesh and, when he was certain she would allow
it, down. Down into a fragrant nest.
    When his questing tongue found her clitoris, she rose up
again, but only to gape at him in reverent shock. “Oh, God, yes,” she warbled,
and flopped back on the cushions. She opened her legs wider and fisted his
hair, to drive him back to task.
    And to task, he did go.
    He loved the taste of her, the smell, the feel. As he licked
her bud, sucked and nibbled her to insanity, he fucked her, first with one
finger and then with two. The third would not fit in—which had him quickly
approaching insanity himself. Her cunt was weeping and wet, a quivering,
clutching cavern.
    He wanted to make her come like this, to watch her body
squirm as he delved her depths and found her most tender spots.
    But he couldn’t. He couldn’t.
    He needed… He needed.
    Without thought, he rose up and scrabbled for the placket of
his trousers. He opened it with trembling fingers and pulled out his cock,
fisting it, guiding it to heaven. He lowered himself between her legs and
nudged at her hot, slick center.
    “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes.”
    It was all the encouragement he needed. Without a word,
without a thought or a breath, he slid in. And oh.
    God.
    Dear God.
    She was so tight. So warm. The walls of her cunt shivered
over his sensitized flesh, making his cock bobble and strain. He was so close.
Too close.
    But he couldn’t come yet. He wanted to make her come. Come
with him. He stroked her, slipped deeper. She shook, a garbled plea hovered on
her lips. He thrust harder, deeper still, lost in bliss.
    He pulled out slowly, smiling when she muttered in denial,
tightening on him and trying to keep him. But he quickly reversed his direction
and slipped back in, shivering at the exquisite sensation.
    She cried out. The tight grip of her cunt sent sizzling fire
to his balls and he groaned. He wanted to be gentle. He wanted to take it slow,
but that time, that delusion, had passed.
    He rose up slightly on his knees and shifted position. Ah.
Better. Much better.
    And then, he fucked her. Madly, crazily, like a beast. He
thrust his cock into her again and again, with each plunge fighting the
friction of her cunt, battling the