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“For here he was about to take her to that passionate brink and she reached upward, her hips rising, her breath catching as she dared not even exhale... Yet he stopped, and let himself go farther down, until his lips blew a hot, steamy kiss over her sex, leaving her gasping, and then it was his tongue on her, lapping at her, drawing her into his mouth and sucking at her sex. He'd slid his fingers inside her again, easing their way in, but it was his mouth, teasing over her, that left her gasping for air, reaching upward, nearly at that brink.”

Quote by Elizabeth Boyle

Book:The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane
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The Viscount Who Lived Down the Lane

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Elizabeth Boyle

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“Charlotte groaned feverishly, a tension building within her core that begged for release. Grunting, he lifted his hips slightly, expertly angling his body so that part of him pressed against the nubbin of flesh. She called out his name, clasping his shoulders. Her hips pumped furiously now, a building, pulsing ache growing and growing, winding tighter and tighter still. Until it exploded. And then they both cried out, surging upward and down, their bodies shaking with pleasure.”

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“He pulled her to the bed, undoing his trousers and hitching up her skirt as he did. Dragging down the top of her dress, he feasted on her breasts again, entering her with her thousand-pound dress tangled all round her waist. He thrust into her frantically and she came fast and furiously. They lay together breathing heavily and then she felt him harden again. Peeling her dress from her, he then lifted her from the bed, bending her over the chair by the dressing table. He came into her from behind, rutting like a dog, where she could see herself in the mirror, legs trembling, her breasts squeezed tight in his hands, being fucked by this handsome stranger. Lifting her again, he sat her on the dressing table, pressing her thighs around him as he pushed into her. She laid back, grasping at the table, scattering her jewelry to the floor, knocking over the table lamps, and came again. "Better now?" he said, with a smile. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes." He took her hand and led her to the bed. "Want to open that champagne?" "No." She curled up on the bed, This was what she'd wanted. Anonymous fucking with no chitchat, no foreplay, no commitment. It would be better now if he just left. "I'm tired." The truth was, she was exhausted. Physically and emotionally spent. He lay down beside her, still stroking her butt. "You're one hell of a sexy woman," he said.”

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“Witch," he grumbled as the woman committed an exploit that caused them both to gasp with a sort of reciprocal anguish. Then... they were moving conjointly, much as one would when riding a horse. The motion went on and on, the lovers more involved, more intense in their enterprise. The woman adjusted herself so that her breasts dangled over Michael's zealous mouth. He pressured, milked, and suckled. Sarah watched to the end, repelled, captivated, discomfited, wanting them to cease immediately, while at the same juncture, never wanting the torrid exhibition to conclude. They reached a mutual goal, a pinnacle, both crying out with a strangled elation, and she felt ashamed and sickened to have witnessed the intense emotion that flared between them, yet she was glad she had. Their pace slackened, the tension abated, the pair relaxed, and Michael rubbed the woman's back. Arrogant and satisfied with himself, he murmured, "Feeling better?" "Oh, Lord... but you utterly kill me when you do that.”

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“Time to feast. Enrique grasped her waist and planted kisses in between her thighs. Then he slowly licked her, savoring her sweet taste. He licked and licked again, picking the pace. She was quiet at first, then her hand dropped and rubbed the back of his head. "Ay, Enrique. Wow." He licked her sweet clit as she came alive under his mouth. Her body trembled, and he'd never seen anything sexier in his life than watching her above him. Her breath came more rapidly, and her chest began to heave. She was so fucking hot, and she tasted like sweet sex. The fact that she had never been with anyone but him, that no one had ever made her moan, drove Enrique wild. This was his woman and only his woman. What if he was the only man to ever touch her? Ever? He pushed that thought out of his head. "That's my girl." Enrique pressed his finger into her beautiful pussy. It was so damn tight. He couldn't wait to feel her clench around his cock. But for now, he just wanted to make her come. He sucked on her clit as he worked her pussy. He could sense that she was close, but he was in no rush. He could eat her all night. Her thighs trembled and Enrique pressed his tongue flat against her. "Ay, Dios mío!" She came all over his face, and he lapped up her juices. After catching her breath, a gorgeous smile graced her face as he pulled back, loving the beautiful sight in front of him. "You're right. I loved it.”

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“She heard the door shut and then he was kneeling before her, pushing her dress up to the top of her thighs. In one movement it seemed, he slipped off his jacket, pried open her legs, and lifted her thighs over his shoulders so that she fell back onto her elbows. She gripped the bed linens as his tongue shot into her and rolled expertly about, and when he drew it out to flick at her like butterfly wings while his fingers pressed down inside her, and orgasm climbed within her. He felt it, pushed her farther up the bed, and stood up, looking down with an expression of simple intent at her womanhood. "Not yet," he told her, dropping his clothes to the floor. His body was toned, hard, perfect; she longed to run her tongue over his washboard stomach, the gentle mounds of his pectoral muscles. "Please." The pulsing between her legs was turning to a pounding. He smiled down at her then. He was making her wait of course. He climbed up onto the bed and knelt between her thighs, teasing her with the tip of his manhood. Circling her waist with his arm, he flipped her onto her stomach. He pulled a pillow under her hips and drew her apart. And then... and then nothing. Only the creak of the bed. She expected his touch, but it didn't come. She felt his breath all over her excitement. His chest was obviously flat to the bed, his face almost touching her. He was looking at her, really looking at her, her hairless smoothness, engorged, trembling, and the thrill of it, of knowing he was looking, but not being able to see him looking, the anticipation of being touched, made her body burn and quiver. She felt him breathing against her. She lost track of how long, how long she lay there in a frenzy of anticipation, not knowing would he touch her, would he plunge right into her. She felt her dampness spreading across the pillow beneath her hips. When he did finally touch her, so lightly, just a finger, exploring her, she cried out. It was almost unbearable. And then the creak of the bed again and he filled her. She lifted her hips higher to meet him, and he pushed her dress up higher to take her hips bare in his hands and pull her closer. He ground into her desire like the base of a palm kneading dough, pressing, lifting, pressing, smoothing her with the perfectly timed and pressured movement of a master into something light and delicate and trusting and pliable. He bent one of her legs and lifted the spiked heel of her stiletto so that it dug into his chest, turning in the movement onto her side. Then he slipped her lower leg around his hips without her heel in that foot even touching him and twisted her. Without his having withdrawn even once, she was on her back looking up at him, knees pressed back to her breasts still scooped in her dress. She reached for him, but he shook his head. He wanted to control this. He lifted her stilettoed feet onto his shoulders, and with two parted fingers closed her eyes. He spread her arms. And then he drove himself into her with such force that it hurt. And then again, and again. She could have opened her eyes, pushed him back, regained some control, but something in her wanted this. She had needed for so long to be so strong, so impervious, it felt an incredible relief to have her vulnerable femininity driven home.”

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“She ran her nails up and through the hair on his thighs, guiding her hands toward his waiting dick. When she reached him, she started with one hand gently running over the tip, then down his shaft. He sucked in a breath as she tightened her grip around him. When her hand reached the base of him, she opened her mouth and her tongue flicked his head, over and over, while she slowly worked his shaft with her hand. Then she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, licking him in one smooth motion. When she trailed her tongue back up, she stopped at his tip and popped it into her mouth, sucking him into her with tight pressure. His hands went for her hair, gripping her as she brought her mouth down the length of him, sucking firmly as she went up and down his cock.”

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“Turn around. I want you to come in my mouth." "Are we about to... sixty-nine?" Nina asked. He hesitated before replying, "Like it's twenty sixty-nine." She laughed, then positioned herself over him, the wisps of her hair teasing him. Before he could taste her, he felt her mouth meet his cock again. His hips arched up to her, and she took in the full length of him until he was buried deep in her mouth. "That's so fucking good," he said. But he didn't linger long; he had to taste her. He reached his hands up to grab her ass, and he gently pressed her down until her pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue reached for her clit, and he drew her bud in. He nibbled at the tip of her and felt her buck against him. He could tell she liked the pressure, so he took her in again and again. Rolling his tongue over and around her clit in playful circles while sucking her into his mouth. Her hips began to rock as she bobbed her mouth up and down his cock and rode his mouth with her pussy. He squeezed her ass as he focused on her clit, not releasing her or letting up on the pressure he could tell she was responding to. "Leo, I'm so close," she said. Then returned her mouth to his cock. He rolled his tongue as he sucked more on her clit. She stilled over him, and her legs tightened. He held her still so he could continue to pleasure her as she moaned and finished on him.”

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“The cool air hit me, and I knew I was wet already but something about being stared at by Ryker with such heated interest made the problem worse. "Now," he said with striking calm in his tone. I obeyed, and before my lungs had even filled all the way he had swooped sown and placed his mouth at my clit and licked. One long, hot, tenuous stroke. The breath he'd had me take came out instantly as a cry of surprise and delight. Ryker was tasting me, all right, and he was relentless with it. When he suckled on that bundle of nerves above my entrance, I took in a sharp breath and grabbed his shoulders. "Close," I hissed out. A mistake, because he sounded amused as he left me with one last stroke of his tongue before moving away. He left me throbbing, wanting, pissed, blissful. "Asshole," I breathed, earning a laugh from the dragon between my legs. "Hold still," he growled playfully, and with one of his hands he lifted my backside just enough to grab the dragon's mark on my ass. Hard. I moaned and the mark burned as my lower body tingled in the best possible way. Ryker's hot tongue didn't stop its assault as I began that dangerous climb to orgasm.”

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