He wanted to bite down like a rabid animal, but somehow he remembered himself enough to close his lips over the nipple with a gentle sucking pressure. His cock was hard and large, sliding along the back of her thigh, so close to her pussy it made him want to groan. He'd never focused on using his tongue so persuasively. Suckling a woman's breast was as much of a complicated art as eating her cunt. If a man could get past his fascination with nipples and only stimulated them when the timing was right, the rewards were great.
So he licked her slowly, methodically, almost like a cat bathing her, and was rewarded by her purr. Catching her fingers in his hair for just a moment, she released him to stretch her arms the length of his bound ones, closing her hands on his wrists below the manacles. He marked her now, with the wetness of his mouth on her breast, with the liquid on the tip of his cock, bumping insistently against her buttocks, her thighs.
As the purr became a growl and her movements became more urgent, he began to use his teeth. Now he seized the nipple, bit down, held it with rigid pressure as he flicked it rapidly with his tongue, released it to let the blood rush back into it, then did it again.
Her pussy was slick against his abdomen as she stroked her clit against his cut stomach muscles. Feeling her against him, he couldn't keep himself from fucking the air to communicate how much he wanted to be inside her.
She shifted, pushing the other breast into his mouth. He was even rougher now, nipping, pulling hard as her hip movements became more frenetic. When he heard the incoherent plea in the back of her throat, he knew he was hearing a woman on the edge of losing control. He lashed her with his tongue, strained to reach her with his cock as she moved wildly on him, using his stomach with the singular fierceness of a woman doing laundry on a washboard.
As she began to climax, he snarled his desire against her but kept up his sensual torment on her breast, feeling the hard nipple of the other one brushing the stubble of his cheek and the curve of his ear as she surged forward, humping herself on him with abandon, her thighs spread wide to bring her clit in full contact with his hard stomach, knees sinking into the bed. Her flesh spasmed against him when she cried out, a pure note of pleasure that gripped his cock and made it throb futilely for what she held just out of reach.
She went for a long time. The climax wrung cry after cry out of her, then small harsh moans of aftershocks that kept her shuddering, her head bowed and hair covering her face. The soft strands draped over him like a curtain. Like the climax at the salon, it was the release of a woman who'd denied herself for far too long. As if she'd just been freed from a prison of her own making and had given herself leave to find the type of pleasure in a man's body she hadn't received in quite a while.
There was an emotional component to it, too, in the way she fell over him, her body arched over his face and fingers gripped on his forearms again. When she drew back, pressed her temple into his shoulder, she nestled her cheek into his armpit as if she were getting as close as she could. Close as she could get to having his arms around her.
So when she shifted, trying to match every part of her upper body to the corresponding parts of his, he followed his intuition. When she stretched out her arms far enough to brush his bound hands with her fingers this time, he twined his own with hers, holding them with simple, loose intimacy. Her lashes fanned his skin as she closed her eyes, pressed her temple to his. The searing, almost spiritual pleasure he felt for her was enough to distract him from the agony of the most intense erection he could ever remember having.
At length, the last shudder passed through her. He stayed still beneath her, quivering, his head turned so his breath was on her hair, lips pressing there. Feeling her breasts against the upper part of his chest. While he was in torment, in some odd way he wished they could stay like this forever, knowing he'd brought her pleasure, feeling her quiet joy in lying on top of him.
Untangling herself from his. grip with reluctance, Lyssa pushed herself up, pressing her bottom back against his turgid cock. Studying the blue eyes that held so much lust she couldn't quell a hard quiver of response, she ran her fingers with deliberate casualness over the hardened nubs of his nipples, the muscles damp with her climax.
"I did warn you, Jacob," she said softly. "You disobeyed."
"Aren't you glad I did, then?" His voice was husky, so unconsciously sexy in his own desire Lyssa wanted to take him all over again.
"Yes," she said simply. "But you won't be. I'll be back in an hour."
Rising to stand over his naked body, she saw understanding dawn. A surge of fierce temper flooded his expression, goaded by the razor edge of a sexual frustration so high it would exceed even a male wolf's chained near a pack of females, every one of them in heat.
"Before you say a word," she said in an even softer voice, "remember you're here by choice, for the moment. If obeying my commands is too much for you to handle, then I'll free you and let you be on your way. Is that what you want, Jacob?"
She kept her expression unreadable, impassive, while inside her a voice was shrieking at her to relent. He'll leave, and you want him. You want him worse than you've wanted anything in a while. Damn Thomas.
If she said that phrase too many times, could it impact where the monk had gone when he crossed over? She was superstitious enough to say a prayer to take it back, though it felt strange to pray in a moment like this, with her body still vibrating with the orgasm, aching for something more fulfilling.
She wanted nothing more than to kiss Jacob's snarling mouth, taste herself on his lips and ride that engorged cock, feel a sense of connection. She'd just relieved a need without giving herself the intimacy she truly craved. He was so angry he obviously didn't trust himself to respond to her question. Good. It gave her the excuse to regain her sense, to put some space between them.
"Since you don't know your answer, I'll leave you alone to think about it."
She could use a variety of excuses for the reasons she found herself wanting Jacob. Enforced celibacy, Thomas's knowledge of what attracted her, loneliness for a mate, and perhaps some of all of it held truth. But she knew it was more. When he looked at her, she felt like she'd found something precious she'd be insane to relinquish. Perhaps Thomas had cast a dark spell, something to compel her to take Jacob as her servant. If she hadn't known the monk's devotion to his God so well, she'd have given the idea more merit.