Brothers of Paradise Series

His spare hand skates across my hip and lands between my legs, already spread for him. Thank God I chose the matching set of lingerie, I think, and then I don’t think at all, because he’s touching me through the fabric and my head falls back in pleasure.

He bites my nipple gently. “You’re already wet,” he says. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”

And God help me, I didn’t know that dirty talk was my kind of thing, but hearing him say those things… It sends fresh need pounding through me. “Yes. I need you.”

He tugs at my panties and glances downwards. “I didn’t get a chance to see you last night.”

And then he does the unthinkable-he sinks to his knees before me and puts my legs across his shoulders.

“Henry…”

But he doesn’t hesitate. He just tugs my panties further to the side and looks up at me, his green eyes nearly black with desire. “So beautiful,” he says. “All of you.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

He leans forward, his tongue searingly hot against my skin. My fingers thread through his hair again and I lose myself entirely, to his skill, his tongue, to the forbidden connection between us.

It’s the hottest moment of my life.

He reaches up and pinches my nipple with one hand, while the other teases along with his mouth. He slips a finger inside me, my body clenched around him. He curses against my clit. “Fucking hell, Faye.”

“Don’t stop.”

The warm exhale of his laugh against my exposed skin makes me shiver, and then he’s right back there, and I explode.

It’s not gentle or pretty. It’s strong, starting from deep inside me, spreading through my body. Henry keeps his mouth on me the entire time, never letting me go, and when my orgasm is over, he looks up at me with an unmistakably masculine glint in his eyes.

“Now that’s a point game I’d play with you,” he says. “How many times can we make Faye come? I’d win, sweetheart.”

“I want my shot at scoring too.” I grip his shoulders and pull him to standing. He’s rock hard, groaning when I reach down and touch him through the fabric.

Henry grunts. “You have me so on edge, you’d score just like that, if you’d just keep going.”

I affect him just as much as he affects me, and I want to enjoy every tantalizing moment of this, reveling in my newfound power. I grip his belt loops and tug him toward the master bedroom. “We can’t have that, can we? I haven’t seen you.”

He scans my eyes, my lips, my breasts, still half-exposed. With a skilled hand, he reaches around and undoes the clasp of my bra. I toss it aside.

Henry curses again, and I smile, both in pleasure and in pride. I know I have curves. So many times in life they’ve been more of a hindrance than a blessing-maturing fast in school, being catcalled on the street, male employers only seeing a butt and boobs rather than an intelligent woman.

But here with Henry, my body is a joy to us both, and I want to share it with him. To enjoy him just the same. “You’re so fucking unreal,” he says.

I laugh and close the bedroom door behind us. “Who would’ve thought that Henry Marchand liked to talk filthy?”

“Filthy? Oh, if you think that’s dirty…” He pulls me close and tells me in excruciating detail what he likes about me, all the while running a finger along my soaked panties, igniting the fire below again. His words make my cheeks flame. Sweet, perfect pussy, he murmurs. Fuckable lips. Hips I want to grab a hold of. Legs that were made to be wrapped around me.

He leans back and grins, seeing the flush on my cheeks. “Dirty enough for you?”

My response is to reach for his belt. He helps me unbuckle it, pushing down his pants, and my mouth goes dry at the bulge. I stroke him through his boxers, and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. “Do you see how hard you make me?”

“Yes,” I say, and because I want to see if my words affect him as much as his affect me, I add a little something. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Fuck.”

I push him on the bed and climb on top, pulling down the elastic of his boxers. “You didn’t think you were the only one with power here?”

“No,” he says. “I’ve always known you were the one actually in charge.”

I take him in my hand, hot and throbbing, and start to stroke. He groans in response, throbbing in my hand. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

I think of his mouth on me in the kitchen, the earth-shattering orgasm he gave me, and how I’m on fire when he touches me. “I think I have a pretty good idea,” I say, and bend down to wrap my lips around him.

His groan of pleasure feels like victory. I keep going, working up a rhythm, enjoying the taste of him. With Aiden, this was simply expected of me. With Henry, I want it. I want to be the one who brings him to the brink.

His hand slides through my hair. I twirl my tongue around the tip and he curses again. “I can’t, Faye. You have to stop. I’ve wanted you for too long, and it’ll be over too fast.”

I kiss my way up his stomach. “It’s not fair if the rules of the new game mean I have to stop before the finish line.”

He laughs and flips me over, kissing down my neck. “Life’s not fair,” he says. His arousal twitches against my stomach, trapped between our bodies. “Faye…”

“Yeah?”

His arms are braced on either side of my head. “I can’t have you regret this afterward. Faye, I need to know…”

I understand. I run my hands up his arms, over the strong muscles of his back, into the thickness of his hair. “I won’t regret this. I promise.”

He sits back and grabs my panties. I lift my hips and he slides them off. Keeping a hold of my ankles, he places them on his shoulders. My breath is coming fast.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says again. I raise myself up on my elbows and watch as his gaze travels from my eyes to my lips, to my breasts, to my stomach and the spot between my legs.

And then he pushes inside of me. Inch after inch disappears, my body taking him fully, before he wraps his hands around my thighs and pulls out again. He sets a slow, deliberate tempo, the strength of his body overpowering. “You feel so good,” he growls. “Too good.”

Words have escaped me. I nod, my own pleasure rising with each of his thrusts. I’m so deliciously, deliciously full. As he watches, I pinch my nipples and cup my own breasts. He groans in response. “Touch yourself.”

Obediently, my hand trails down between my legs. Circling my clit is dangerous-my body is already close, has been since his mouth was on me in the kitchen. It doesn’t take much effort to bring me right back to the brink, not while he’s inside me.

There’s not much thought involved. For weeks, I’ve imagined this, his body on mine. His body in mine.

Henry speeds up, reaching deeper and faster, hands gripping my thighs hard. We’re both losing ourselves to this, the control in his eyes evaporating with each thrust.

Yes, I want to say. I want you as undone as I am.

My hand circles my clit faster. If this is a race, it’s a race we’ll both win.

“Yes,” he tells me, eyes blazing darkly. “Again.”

Pleasure rackets through my body at the permission, something I never knew turned me on before. If my orgasm in the kitchen before was good, it’s mind-blowing now, with him inside me at the same time.

Through the fog of my own pleasure, I hear Henry groan, his hips bucking sharply against me. His heavy breathing mirrors my own. For a few beautiful seconds, we just stare at each other, neither of us moving.

Then he smiles, gently lowering my weak legs from his shoulders, and bends to kiss me. I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him back, our bodies still connected, skin slick with heat.