Broken Dove (Page 37)
Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(37)
Author: Kristen Ashley
But suddenly, it was too much. I couldn’t take anything but what he was doing between my legs. The air on my skin was burning into me; my hair swaying down my back was driving me mad.
I lifted both arms and pulled my hair up, holding it at the back of my head, seeking maximum contact with Apollo’s talented lips and tongue even as one of his hands at my h*ps yanked me deeper.
I sensed something, looked over my shoulder and saw his other hand wrapped around his glorious cock, pumping.
Oh God.
Seriously.
How hot was that?
It was so hot, I cried out again, arching back, coming.
Excruciatingly.
Exquisitely.
He pulled me off and I was on my belly in the bed. I felt his knee nudging my legs apart, and still in the throes of my most recent cl**ax, I helped, spreading them wider. Then he was between my legs yanking up my hips.
He pounded in.
When he filled me, my head flew back, my hair drifting over my skin and I whimpered, “Yes,” as I started to push up to my hands.
I didn’t get very far as, still thrusting, I felt his hand in the middle of my back, pushing me down.
“No, Maddie, I just want your beautiful arse.”
I could do that. I so could.
I gave him my ass, tipping it high.
He took it, f**king me and I felt his wet thumb gliding between my cheeks and then it pressed inside the sensitive sweet spot.
Phenomenal.
I moaned as it overwhelmed me yet again, bucking back into him violently even as he pounded deep inside me and pressed his thumb in my ass.
“Beautiful, my poppy. Bloody hell, magnificent,” he growled, surged inside and I heard his grunts turn into a rumble before I heard his shuddering groan and just hearing it, another orgasm rolled over the one I was still having.
Hazy, still turned on, coming down, and even doing that, it building back up, Apollo pulled out. He gently rolled me to my back and covered me again, instantly sliding back inside and gliding slowly, his eyes holding mine, his lips a breath away.
“More?” he whispered.
“You up for it?” I whispered back.
I felt his lips touch mine and they were smiling, as were his eyes.
And in all the fabulous we’d just shared, that might have been the best part.
“Absolutely,” he murmured.
“Then yes,” I breathed and wrapped my legs around his hips. “More.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Please.” And I slid my tongue along his lips.
He slanted his head, those lips took mine, his tongue took mine and he gave me more.
* * * * *
Some time later, I was on top, Apollo inside me. I was sliding up slowly and down even slower, my face in his neck, my eyelids drooping.
I needed sleep. Like, bad.
But I had something to say.
Sliding down, filling myself full of him, my sex drenched with him and me, I pressed my face in his neck, slid my hand up the other side and brushed my thumb along his stubbled jaw.
“Thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.
He had one hand resting lightly, almost casually on my ass. Paradoxically, he had one arm wrapped tightly, even possessively across my middle back.
At my words, both convulsed.
Powerfully.
I had no time to assess this reaction.
Because his voice said low and sweet, “Sleep, Maddie,” and my mind took that moment in a vague way to realize all throughout the night he’d called me nothing but Maddie, Madeleine, my dove or my poppy.
And this vague thought made my insides warm.
That was when I fell was asleep.
Chapter Nine
Heart Mighty As Goliath
Apollo did not sleep.
Maddie on top of him, her knees high and pressed tight to his sides taking some of her weight, his body gladly supported the rest of it.
Drifting his fingers through the silken weight, he smelled the citrus of her hair, the lavender scent of her skin, both mixed with the aroma of sweat and sex.
He stared at dark ceiling thinking he’d never smelled anything more beautiful.
And it was not Ilsa’s smell. After she bathed, Ilsa’s skin smelled of roses, her hair of mint.
Maddie shifted slightly and he naturally slid out of her. When he did, his seed mingled with her juices glided from her, drifting between the juncture of his thighs, their essence mixed, the most intimate parts of them joined, he stared at the ceiling thinking he’d never felt anything sweeter.
Further, he was struggling with why this would be so, considering the depth of love he had for his wife. Not to mention, the depth of passion they shared in their bed.
However, he’d never had anything with Ilsa like he’d had with Madeleine last night.
It was, of course, the adela tea.
But now he was no longer under the influence of adela tea and still these thoughts assailed him.
And last, he was thinking he’d made yet another colossal mistake.
He should have gagged her, tied her to the bed and left her.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he took advantage.
Coming unraveled by her entreaty, allured by her beauty and her touch, aroused by her sharing that she’d take care of herself if he left…gods, aroused by it all, he’d taken advantage.
He couldn’t even blame it on losing control. It was slipping but he hadn’t lost it.
No, he wanted her.
He wanted her before she pressed to him and begged, and he definitely wanted her during.
He’d made her swear no recriminations but she was under the influence of adela tea. He knew the effects of that brew. She didn’t know what she was saying but he knew she’d say anything to get what the tea made her need.
And he’d given it to her and in doing so, he took.
He had no trust of hers to break. If he had, he’d broken it in Fleuridia before he left her. But if he’d gained any since their reunion (which was doubtful), last night, he’d have shattered it.
When her eyes opened later that morning, the effects of the tea abated, she’d know it.
And she’d hate him for it.
He sighed, closing his eyes and ceasing running his fingers through her hair so he could wrap his arms around her, certain this was all he’d get. When she woke, she’d be lost to him.
For good.
There would be no winning her. It had only been a day and in that day, her adorable stubbornness, even her exasperating peevishness, he realized he wanted to win her more than he had before. And in her adorable stubbornness and exasperating peevishness, Apollo also realized the challenge of doing this was even more difficult than he earlier suspected.
Which made him wish to best it all the more.
Now it would be impossible.