Page 40 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
“I think you might like this even better,” he taunted before taking one of her breasts in his mouth, lapping at her nipple.
Hannah gasped as he took the other in his hand, applying a gentle pressure that had her squirming anew, her core aching as she wrapped a leg around his, holding him closer to her, reassuring herself with the thickness of his own reaction.
Reminding herself that this was real. At least for now.
Sol continued, raising her desire higher and hotter with slow, lazy circles, punctuated by the grazing of his teeth, setting every fiber of her body on edge with want, stronger and hotter than she’d felt in a long time, perhaps ever.
“Please,” she whimpered as her legs turned to molten liquid.
“Please what?” he asked. “Are you ready for me tokiss lower? To lick lower? Make you come? Or do you want me to play with you more?”
“If you play with me more, I might stop breathing,” she panted, amazed that this supposed novice had so easily entranced her. “Please. More. With your tongue.”
“With pleasure,” he repeated, kissing her forehead before sliding down again, spreading her legs with his body. He pressed his lips down her belly, his tongue tracing a path lower and lower, to each of her hips, then to the joint of her thighs.
She squealed as he nipped at the soft skin just above the area where her nether curls began.
He tipped his chin up and smiled at her. “I’ll have to note that you like that for next time.”
Next time.Hannah bit her tongue so she wouldn’t correct him.
There could be no next time.
Even if she were another type of woman—one without her responsibilities to Tamar, one who wasn’t a criminal—there were other circumstances to consider.
Sol would never achieve the success he so desperately wanted were he to continue to link himself with her. His position was tenuous enough—he needed someone monied, someone the community and gentiles would approve of, someone like Isabelle Ellenberg, as his wife.
One of the good ones.
Which she was certainly not.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing up on his hands, his brow twisted in concern.
“Nothing.” She shook her head before running the back of her hand over his cheek. “I’m just enjoying this. You’re a surprise. In many, many ways.”
His inhaled and paused as if he was going to press, ask her something else. But he didn’t. Instead, he lunged and kissed her on the lips once more before retaking his position between her thighs.
Hannah closed her eyes, willing herself to relax and merely enjoy this—him. Because she of all people knew how fleeting these little moments of happiness were.
His tongue lapped at her skin, parting the curls, and she near screamed again, dipping her head back, allowing herself to be lost in the sensation as he teased her, feeding her moans and hip swivels, driving her to the peak, only to pull back again and again, chuckling into her flesh at her moans of frustration, until she grabbed his head, holding him into her.
“There you go, love,” he murmured against her body. “Take what you want.”
And she did, god help her. She held him to her, guiding him as she stroked his sheared black hair. Moving against him until she reached that peak again, this time tumbling over it fast and hard, his name spilling over and over from her lips.
“Yes, love,” he breathed, kissing her thigh. “Say my name.”
“Sol,” she whispered, nearly entranced. “Sol.”
He sat up and took her hand, squeezing it. “What do you want, darling? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. Anything.”
And the promise, so clear and so earnest, made something within her ache. Or more, made her long to give him anything in return. But she couldn’t. Or more, she had nothing left to give.
She needed to take this for the gift it was and enjoy it. And right now, the gift was this—this moment.Which she would make sure they each remembered forever. For good or ill.
“I want you inside me.” She bit her lip. How did she say this? Because no doubt he’d be concerned over certain things. “I don’t have a sponge and I’m assuming you haven’t prepared a sheath, but perhaps you could pull out, if you, um, concentrate.” She swallowed. “If you want to. And if you want to actually—” Oy, she sounded ridiculous.
“I want to,” he said, bending down and giving her a sweet, small kiss on the nose. “And I can pull out,” he told her. “I can be careful. No matter how hungry I am.” And there was the grin again, which warmed her so.
