The flat of her hand smoothed over his belly; as his cock stirred and swelled, she slipped her hand between his thighs and stroked. His legs dropped apart to abet her as she took the head of his cock into her mouth, traced it with her tongue, sucked.
He groaned raggedly. “Oh Christ. Please. Yes.”
She licked and stroked and sucked until he was as hard as lumber.
“Inside you. Ginny, I want to be inside you.”
She rose up over him, and he showed her how to guide his cock into her.
When he was seated her head went back on a gasp.
He groaned low in his throat.
“Move with me, sweetheart.”
She did, but with evil languor, rising slowly, slowly up, sinking back down to take his whole length. Teasing herself, teasing him.
He gripped her hips and thrust up.
She refused to let him control the speed. She tortured him with leisurely skill, gazing down at him like a conqueror.
He was mesmerized by the sway of her breasts. By the sheen of sweat on her pearly skin. By the hazed, passion-drugged intensity of her beautiful eyes. By the surprisingly talented cruelty with which she was driving both of them mad.
Finally, she moved faster.
He thought his head might explode.
He tasted his own sweat as it poured down his face. He moaned like a man being killed as nearly unendurable waves of pleasure were banked and banked. “Love, I’mbeggingyou.”
He thrust up again, reaching to stroke where they were joined.
Her head fell back on a cry. She set both of them free.
In a frenzied collision of hips they drove each other to the brink and at last, at last, over it.
His bliss came at him like an andiron. He blacked out briefly, her name a harsh cry, an anguish of ecstasy. He nearly fucking wept.
He was undone.
She collapsed over him.
He slid his hands down the satiny skin of her back. Over the curve of her arse.
He slipped from her and gathered her in his arms.
Their rough breath mingled as dawn peeked through the gap of his curtains.
“Gabriel, you are precious, and I love you. Now and forever,” she whispered.
She kissed his mouth softly one more time.
He watched her without a word as she quietly dressed.
She gently closed the door behind her when she left.
Mr. Pike brought her trunk and her valise out to the park in front of the Grand Palace on the Thames in the pink light of dawn. He offered to wait with her, but as luck would have it, Mr. Marchand was up early, too. He told Pike he would be happy to wait with Miss Woodville.
Mr. Pike, who was far from naive, left them to it.