A Stroke Of Midnight   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Galen drew himself out of my mouth. “This is supposed to be foreplay, Merry.”

“You know what I want,” I said.

He shook his head.

I trailed my hands along his ass. “Nicca will go between my legs, then with a touch, I will bring him back again. He will service me and Biddy this night. Why can’t you go twice tonight, too?”

“I usually do.”

I pressed my body upward, gripping his ass with my hands. I raised up enough so I could lick lightly on his balls. “Go once in my mouth, and once between my legs. Please, Galen, please.”

Nicca’s hands slid down my thighs, and I felt him settling between my legs a second before his tongue touched me, a quick caress that made me writhe and dig my nails, just a little, into Galen’s body.

It made him close his eyes, and count his breaths.

“I would give almost anything to have a woman beg me like that,” Kitto said. “Do not refuse such a gift.”

I didn’t look at Kitto, because I only had eyes for Galen.

Nicca’s tongue licked inside my opening, then up in a sure, firm stroke. I had to learn how to breathe again, and when I opened my eyes, Galen was still there, looking down at me. Nicca began to lick in circles around the edge of me, long sure strokes, for he had found that quick ones only worked later, not at the beginning. That sensation of fullness was already beginning to grow low in my body.

“Please,” I said simply.

He settled his body over me again, wrapped his own hand around himself, and gave me the angle my mouth needed. “A princess shouldn’t have to beg” was the last thing he said before he slid inside my mouth.



CHAPTER 32

THE WEIGHT GREW LOW IN MY BODY, AS NICCA’S TONGUE CARESSED in long, heavy circles, and at the top of that circle he found that spot, the one that would eventually turn that growing warm weight into pleasure. But he had to work me wet first, otherwise it would hurt and rub, not pleasure.

Galen had gotten over his reluctance. He put his hands on the floor just past my head, so that he could move his hips as if he were making love to my mouth. And it was making love, not a pounding, but a caress of muscled velvet sliding between my lips, a sweet, hard weight that made me open my mouth wide to him, so he could glide every inch from the smooth head to the end of the shaft where it met his body. Except we never got that far. He never put that much of himself inside me. Nicca had stopped what he was doing.