The Captain of All Pleasures (Sutherland Brothers #1)(57)
Author: Kresley Cole

He cursed his body when she jumped back, looking at him wonderingly. Damn. He hadn’t thought he could get even harder, and now she was even more hesitant. Before she could change her mind, he jerked his head from her to his pants. Without a word, he commanded her to undress him.

This time she pulled them down determinedly and gasped when he sprang forth. She was riveted, but he didn’t want her to watch him; he needed to be in her now.

Sutherland again nodded at her and then to himself. What did he want her to do? She was afraid to untie him, yet she wanted this to happen. But he had to be on top of her, didn’t he?

She moved to the side of the bed, kneeling beside him, staring enthralled at his erection. It was like its own entity, as it throbbed and grew. Beautiful, as though carved from marble, but hot. Its broad tip was moist. Before she could think, she’d placed her hands on it. The hair curling at its base was soft, the sack she hefted taut. She cupped it and weighed it in her hand, making him shudder. A sharp, low utterance escaped him. He pinned her with his stare and spoke against the cloth. Surely, he was asking her to untie him.

“I won’t untie you.”

He shook his head. She didn’t think he’d call out to the watch because he wouldn’t want them to see him like this, so slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward, untying the cloth at the back of his head and pulling it free. He took a deep breath and seemed not to know what to say. Unable to stop herself, she returned to stroking the stretched skin of his shaft, noting the sensitivity at the crown. She could touch him forever .

He flinched as if she’d burned him. “Untie me.”

“Don’t ask me that, because I won’t.”

“If you untie me, I can bring you even more pleasure than you found the night of the storm.”

The events of that night affected her, plagued her, made her burn. But this wasn’t just a memory; she could do the things she wished they’d done that night.

Her attention kept trailing to her hand gliding up and down his length. Fascinated, a moth to flame, she moved to reach him better, placing a knee between his legs. His thigh came up and pressed between her own. She drew in a shocked breath. She would move away but it soothed her, like blowing on a burn. She stayed against him, still fondling him.

That washer hand gripping him. She was panting now, not caring that she’d grown wet against his leg. Then he flexed his hard thigh, making her rock up and down. She bit back a moan. He did it again, then stopped, rasping to her, “Use it, love. Take what you need .”

And she did. She rode his leg, her right hand holding his sculpted torso, her left hand stroking.

“Nicole! Look at me.”

She dragged her gaze from her busy hand.

His face was pained, his deep voice gravelly. “Do you want me to make you feel things you’ve never felt before?”

Shivering at the low timbre of his voice, she could only mouth, “Yes.”

“Put it inside you.”

She was well past the point of feeling any shyness. Her scalp tightened and her skin tingled. The yearning wetness between her legs drove her to do as he told her.

When Nicole covered him, as she had his leg, he sucked in a breath and almost exploded instantaneously beneath that dewy heat kissing his flesh. He’d been driven mad when she used his leg, almost came in her hand while she masturbated him, and now to feel her

“You have to stop that,” he grated. “You have to put me inside you.”

She glanced down with a nervous look at where their bodies touched.

In the back of his mind, he felt like a bastard. This position would hurt her more, but he couldn’t turn back. It was her fault, damn her, that he couldn’t take her in a more conventional manner.

His conscience got the better of him. “This will hurt you probably worse than it would if I could move over you.”

She looked searchingly into his eyes. “When you’ve done this before, did you do anything to keep the woman from hurting?”

He frowned. “Do you mean, when I’ve deflowered a woman?”

“Yes,” she breathed as she resumed moving against him.

He watched her eyes glaze over with passion and, feeling his body’s response, he found it difficult to answer. “I’ve never done I’ve never been with a virgin. But I know it helps if you’re, well, if you feel desire for me, too,” he tried to explain, his voice thick. “You seem to have that covered.”

Her sultry eyes opened and sparkled with humor?

“No pun intended?” Her lips broke into a grin as she looked down at where her body connected with his.

“Love,” he said as his answering grin was replaced by a look of misery, “we’ve either got to do this or we need to—” Anything he might have added was lost as he watched her rise up and grasp him, feeding it in .

A low hiss of breath stole across his lips as she slid over him. The pleasure was so intense, so driving, it took every ounce of will he had not to thrust upward into her.

Slowly. She needed to do this slowly.

It didn’t appear that Nicole understood this. When she’d just placed the tip of him into her, she pulled away, but her body just as quickly compelled her to move down him again. She did this shallow rising and falling forever, each time lowering herself slightly more onto his aching cock. There could be no worse torture. Would he ever fit inside her?

“Nicole,” he grated out, “take more of me in you—I need you to take all of me.” If he wasn’t fully into that tight sheath soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop his hips from surging up into her.

After a pause, she pushed her hands farther up on his chest, forcing herself back until he could feel the barrier.

He never took his eyes from hers as she steadied herself, gliding lower and lower. She wouldn’t look away, either. It was as if she needed him to gain courage. But when her eyes teared, he knew he needed to help her. He took a breath, dug his heels into the bed, and shoved his way into her core.

She cried out, her nails embedding themselves in his chest, before she sank over him, motionless.

“Nicole? Are you all right?”

She breathed against his skin. “Uh-huh.”

He made himself still inside her, wanting to savor the way she clasped him so tightly, knowing she needed time to adjust to him.

How long they lay like this, he didn’t know. All his muscles stood tense in agony, not being able to move inside her, but he was a big man and didn’t want to hurt her any more.

Her body at last grew accustomed to the fullness and became greedy. She rose up and gingerly impaled herself. He wanted to make this last, but she began moving on him faster, sighing, moaning, wincing when she took him as fully as she could, still not to the hilt. If his hands were free, he would be running them up and down her body and maybe even encircling her waist to slow their explosive joining.

The idea of being tied up became increasingly erotic to him, and he tried not to think of the ropes lest he come too soon. With him tied, she was free to do whatever she needed to pleasure herself with his body.