Page 21 of The Notorious Lord Sin
"Open the falls and take me in hand. I want you to touch me," he said, hoping he did not sound like a desperate beggar. For all his commands, authority, and the liberties he was taking, he certainly felt like one.
ChapterTwelve
Paris fought not to get pulled into the sweet seduction that Dominic always evoked in her. It had always been like that between them from the first moment they met.
A spark that, no matter how much he may have fought against it, still burned bright and hot. Even now, after all that had passed between them, it was there, simmering, pulling them closer, no matter how much Paris wished it did not.
His hand slid against her mons and heat thrummed through her. She let him touch her, stroke her aching flesh, and tease her to a fevered pitch.
So delicious. So hot and what she had craved for so long. She had always enjoyed sleeping with her husband, he had been handsome and kind, and there was nothing not to enjoy.
But no matter the toxic, cruel past she shared with the man in her arms, having Dominic touch her had always been like a firestorm of desire and need that would not recede.
"Touch me, please, Paris. I beg of you." His voice sounded hoarse, torn, and she could not deny him.
She reached for him, flicking open his falls. His cock sprang into her hand, and she wrapped her fingers about it, stroked him to his base, and teased the hardened member.
He was so soft and yet hard as stone beneath her palm. She glanced between them, and the sight of them giving each other pleasure was more than she could bear.
"Dominic," she moaned.
He clasped her cheek in his hand and pulled her near. "Kiss me, Paris. Please," he begged.
She shook her head, knowing that if she gave in to that one demand, there would be no turning back. She would not be able to deny him anything and would once again be that pitiful, sad young woman she had been when she first came to London. A woman with nothing who had somehow fallen in love with a viscount, only to have all her hopes and dreams crushed.
No, she would not give him that power over her again.
She tightened her hold on his manhood, increasing her pace. His cock hardened further, the head of his erection purple and oozing with his seed.
A magnificent sight to behold.
He slipped a finger into her, and she gasped, having not expected such exquisite torture. She undulated on his hand, riding him, wanting him. Heat and moisture pooled at her core, but she did not care. She would take all she could from him, make him need her, unable to live without her, before he, too, learned what it was like to lose everything for no reason whatsoever.
No worthy reason, in any case.
"Yes, Dominic," she moaned as spasm after delectable spasm shot through her body. She clutched at him as her orgasm ripped along every nerve in her body, tremor after tremor that left her spent.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, stealing a kiss against her neck. He stayed there, bestowing small nibbles on her ear that made her shiver.
Paris turned her attention to his cock, willing to let him have this one pleasurable moment. She unhooked his waistcoat and pushed up his shirt.
She slipped off his lap and kneeled before him. His eyes widened, and desire burned bright and hot in his brown eyes.
"What are you doing, Paris?" he asked, a slight tremor in his tone.
"Making you come," she explained, taking him in hand and stroking his cock. He was a large man, and she remembered their one night together.
After her initial discomfort, his consideration, his need to make her enjoy herself had left her breathless, aching with hunger. He had not disappointed her, bringing her to an orgasm that had enlightened her.
To this day, she regretted what had happened between them. An opportunity lost for sure. They would have done well together. She had always thought so because deep down, she believed, no matter what he had said to her in the Romney library, that he had loved her. That he had been persuaded away from her was the only reason he had cut her from his life.
His manhood strained, the veins pulsing as she teased him, stroked, and played.
"Suck me," he begged, his hands clasping the cushions on the settee with a tenacious grip.
She shook her head, not willing to go that far. Not today, at least, but in time maybe she would. "Be patient, my lord," she teased, increasing her strokes to a steady pace. "We have only just begun."
He growled, watching her, his eyes heavy with need. His heady gaze made her stomach flutter. She had not seen him look at her like that, hungry and determined for some time.
