The Midsummer Auction Part 20

"You're up to it, love? Not too jet-lagged?" he asked, raising his head to look at her.

"With you, I'm always up to it," she said, her forefinger tracing the line of his top lip. "You have that effect on me." She would love him forever, heart, body and soul, this man who had become the air she breathed.

"Good," he said with such satisfaction that she gave him a sultry look from under her lashes.

"Why?" she asked him teasingly. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Oh, everything," he said fervently. "I've been fantasizing forever about how I would make love to every inch of you on your first night in this house as my wife."

"Do I get an active role in this fantasy?"

"Absolutely." He got out of bed, shed his clothes, and climbed back on the bed. He stretched out alongside of her and pulled her on top of him. He smoothed the hair away from her face with both hands and then cupped her face and kissed her mouth.

His c.o.c.k throbbed hard against her belly and she wriggled her body, maneuvering until the length of him was immersed between her damp folds. Her movements enticed him, begged him to go all the way in and he fought down his craving to embed himself inside her body, warm himself in her heat.

"No, darling," he said, his voice tortured. "Not yet. I want this to last all night."

In desperation he heaved her body further up over his, dragging his mouth over her nipples, grazing them with his teeth, grasping her b.u.t.tocks to keep her hard against him as her breath gusted rapid and hot into his scalp. Abruptly, he took her by the waist, urged her up and lowered her. She cried out her agonized pleasure as his tongue rasped across her v.u.l.v.a and sought out the sensitive bud. Her body temperature skyrocketed and she moaned and shivered as he pinned her against his relentless, demanding mouth and began to eat her. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled warningly, every pore opening to cool her overheated body, and then she was gripping the headboard and screaming as her o.r.g.a.s.m ploughed violently through her.

It was what the French call le pet.i.t mort, the little death. When she came to, she was lying on top of him and he was stroking her hair. She raised her head to look at him and saw in his eyes the inexpressible love and the flame of sensual hunger for her that had permanently branded his soul. A little exclamation escaped her and she reached out instinctively to touch his face, her eyes spilling her own love and pa.s.sion for him.

Then a smile touched his eyes, played s.e.xily around his mouth. "I'm your lovesick slave, mistress," he said.

Her eyelashes swooped down and lifted, and the gleam he loved so much was in her eyes. "Good," she said, her fingers curling around his already engorged and pulsing c.o.c.k, "because I have big plans for you, d.i.c.k."

Epilogue.

He walked into the house and went to find her in his mother's sitting room, where he knew she would be. He sat down next to her on the settee and handed her a thick brown envelope.

"This is your wedding present, darling. I'm sorry it's so late, but the paperwork took some time."

She opened it curiously, pulled out the doc.u.ments and skimmed through them. A deed of land in her name. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.

He leaned over and kissed her. "I wanted you to have something that was exclusively yours, to hold on to, just for you to know that you have it," he told her. "Are you pleased?"

"It's a wonderful present, Anthony. Fifty hectares of land at the ideal alt.i.tude to grow Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee. It's perfect. I wish I had something valuable to give you," she said a little wistfully.

"Believe me, sweetheart, you do," he told her, his voice charged with sensuality. He put one arm around her and pulled her closer, petting her tight, round belly with his other hand. She relaxed into the circle of his arms and laid her head back on his shoulder, her pulse flickering in her throat as his hand moved from her belly to caress her mound lovingly. He bent his head and sucked the hollow of her throat, and she feathered his earlobe and the downy hair she so loved at the back of his neck with kisses, her breath coming faster as his fingers wandered down and slid easily into her s.e.x. With an indrawn breath she placed her hand over his to keep it there, surrendering to ecstasy as his fingers slipped deeper inside her, f.u.c.king her sweetly while he teased her nub, slick and wet, with his thumb. The slippery feel made his mouth go dry with longing, and he lifted his head to look at her.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, "I was hoping you'd give it to me now."

THE END.

WWW.PIATREMAYNE.BLOGSPOT.COM.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Pia Tremayne lives in the great white north and spent a lot of time outdoors enjoying winter with her kids. Now that they are grown she finds that between bouts of getting away to thaw out in warmer climes, the cold days and long winter nights are ideal for spending long hours at the computer just letting her imagination run wild. When summer does deign to show up Pia likes to garden, take long walks and read outdoors.

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com.

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