by Lily Reynard
Her long-lashed aquamarine eyes looked clear as water in the sunlight.
"Then I'll just have to try harder to convince you to change your mind about marriage," she said and gave him a breathtaking smile.
Larkin wasn't in the habit of smiling often, and when he did, it was usually a grim quirk of his lips. Right now, though, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "Do your best. I'm looking forward to it, Angel."
And he was. He intended to take his sweet time exploring every inch of her beautiful, untouched body and discover what would make her pant and scream his name.
He settled her more firmly against him and deliberately flicked the hollow of her throat with his tongue. She tasted sweet and clean, with just the faintest hint of lemon cologne.
His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down the center of her chest. She leaned back into his hold, offering her breasts to him. Her heartbeat thrummed against his lips, and her fingers dug into his shirt as she clutched at his shoulders.
Larkin teased her, nuzzling the valley between her breasts, then kissed the tops and sides, moving ever closer to her stiff pink nipples without touching them.
His breath hitched as she squirmed restlessly, rubbing herself against the hard length of his cock sandwiched between them.
"Mmmm," he said. "I like when you do that. You can feel how badly I want you, right?"
"What should I do?"
He chuckled breathlessly. "Just keep moving like that, sweet angel."
To encourage her, he circled her nipple with his tongue and drew it into his mouth with hard suction.
She cried out and stiffened. Her thighs closed around his.
"You like that?"
She nodded frantically.
He grinned at her and set to work with his lips and tongue, teased her sensitive nipples to stiff, wet points. She writhed and panted beneath his mouth, riding his aching cock in a most gratifying way.
Maybe she's a virgin, but she's sure got a lot of heat locked inside her.
"I want to hear you," he murmured, just before he closed his teeth over one hard nipple and bit down lightly.
At the same moment, he took her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it firmly.
She shook in response and gave a loud sobbing cry.
Larkin thought he might come just from hearing her and feeling her damp heat grinding against him. He couldn't believe how responsive she was to this bit of rough play. And it was all genuine too, not the practiced theatrics that some of the soiled doves in town gave him.
He played with her luscious breasts for a while longer, using his teeth and fingers until they were wet and thoroughly reddened from his attentions and so sensitized that the lightest flick of his tongue over their hard tips made Sarah gasp and shudder.
"You ready for more?" he asked finally. "For something really special?"
Sarah nodded frantically.
"Please," she begged, and the desperation in her voice was music to his ears. "Please, Larkin."
"I like it when you say my name like that." With a lithe movement, he lifted her off his lap and put her on the sofa next to him. Then he pushed her skirts up and swiftly unbuttoned her lace-trimmed bloomers before pulling them down. The scent of her arousal rose like musky perfume.
He scooting backwards to the other end of the sofa.
"Open your legs for me," he ordered.
She was a sight to behold, bare on top, her mouth and breasts both reddened from his attentions, her skirts bunched up around her waist, revealing the entire length of her legs, her knitted cotton stockings tied at the knee with blue ribbons.
She obeyed eagerly, and Larkin took a moment to appreciate the sight of her pretty dark pink pussy, all wet and swollen for him.
Taking his time, he kissed his way up from her knees to the inside of her legs, making her squirm with impatience and desperate need before he finally reached his goal at the top of her thighs.
He could feel the tension humming through her body as she waited for him to take the next step. With amusement, he noted that she was actually holding her breath.
"I can't believe how much fun virgins are," he murmured. "I love how you respond to me, Sarah. Believe me, there's nothing better than the taste of a woman in heat."
Then he blew lightly across her swollen folds, which elicited a satisfying shiver.
Then he extended the tip of his tongue and flicked the small, stiff nub of her clit. She gasped and just about levitated off the sofa, the breath rasping in her throat.
"So, you liked that?"
"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed.
He grinned in triumph and set to work in earnest. Larkin loved doing this, loved the smell and taste of an aroused woman, and he knew he was very, very good with his mouth.
In no time, he had Sarah writhing beneath him, reaching down to pull at his hair as he teased her with his mouth. She panted and whimpered and made other delightfully inarticulate noises every time he lapped at her clit or circled it with his tongue, using all of his self-control to keep his touches feather-soft, too light to truly satisfy.
With the skill of long experience, he brought her right up to the edge. Then, with deliberately calculated effect, he stopped.
She made an inarticulate sound of protest and arched against his hold on her hips. He knew she must be desperate for release.
He sure was. His cock was painfully hard now as it rubbed against the rounded cushion of the sofa seat, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to drape her deliciously soft, white legs over his shoulders and bury himself to the balls inside her wet, tight depths.
"Do you want to finish?" He knew he was being a sonuvabitch, but right now, all he could think about was that she was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. "I could send you to heaven right now."
She moaned, and he loved how powerful her desperate sexual arousal it made him feel.
"Will you let me go all the way?" he asked, his voice a low purr.
"No. N-not unless you want to marry me," she managed, surprising him.
She was flushed and panting with need, her glossy brown hair spread over the sofa's green upholstery…and she was still stubborn enough to tell him no?
And there he'd been convinced that it was a done deal.
He couldn't help it. He laughed. "You may be as stubborn as I am. I like your spirit, Sarah."
And because he wasn’t a complete cross-roader, he lowered his face to her scrumptious pussy. "You like what I did to your tits just now?"
She nodded. "Oh, yes."
"Good. Because I'm gonna give your pussy the same treatment now. And when you climax, I want you to scream my name."
He was as good as his word, and enthusiastically set to work devouring her. This time, it wasn't a gentle tease. Her sobbing moans were music to his ears as he fucked her with his tongue, exploring her tight, virginal passage.
Finally, he concentrated his attentions on her clit, drawing it into his mouth with the same hard suction that he'd used on her nipple, flicking the little bud mercilessly with his tongue.
She cried his name, which turned into a long, sobbing scream as her climax tore through her, her pussy pulsing rapidly against his lips as she arched and shook.
He hovered on the edge of climax himself as he continued to caress her while intense shudders wracked her.
He gradually gentled his touch as he sensed her beginning to descend from the storm of pleasure that he had given her.
Larkin moved back up over her body and kissed her long and deep, his throbbing, unsatisfied erection trapped between them.
"So, did you like that?" he asked smugly.
Chapter Thirteen
Panting, Sarah relaxed against the sofa, every part of her body still quivering and pulsing with aftermath of the incredible explosion of pleasure he'd given her. Her wildest imaginings had never come anywhere close to the sensations that Larkin's fingers and sinfully skilled mouth had evoked in her body.
Now I understand why society so strictly regulates the occasions on which these pleasures might legitimately be enjoyed, because they are better than candy and more addictive than opium.
Larkin lifted his face from between her legs. His lips were glistening, and he looked as smug as a cat who'd eaten a canary. "So, did you like that?"
Sarah wasn't in any mood to deny the truth. "Oh, yes," she breathed. "That was…astounding."
He slid up her body and lay atop her. Then he kissed her, long and hard and deep. She wound her arms around him and returned his kiss with enthusiasm. Every part of her felt relaxed and suffused with a warm glow.
While they embraced, she became acutely aware of his male organ pressing against her belly, just as it had on the nights when they'd slept cuddled together upstairs. She began to wonder.
"Larkin," she said, when their kiss ended. "The caresses you bestowed upon me just now—is there some way that I might reciprocate them?"
"I'd be mighty obliged if you did." He rolled to his side, nestling between her and the back of the sofa. "Let me show you."
He unbuttoned the front of his jeans and drew out his organ. It was erect and flushed, with swollen veins running up its length. And impressively large, both in length and girth.
"Oh my," she breathed.
When Sarah had first begun experiencing her menses, Mother had acquainted her with the basics of wifely duties and what she might expect from the marriage bed. But those basics had left out certain pertinent details. How on earth could that ever fit inside me?
"I've been wanting you bad for a while now." His tone was gentle, but she felt a stab of guilt as she remembered how desperately she had desired his touch just a short while ago.
"Touch me," he coaxed, and took her hand, guiding it to his groin. "Please."
Sarah hesitantly closed her fingers around his thick shaft. It felt unexpectedly soft, like velvet wrapped around a core of heated stone.
He closed his hand around hers and urged her to draw her fisted hand slowly up the length of his manhood.
When they reached the end, he said, harshly, "Twist your hand. Pretend you're milking a cow."
Sarah fought the urge to giggle at that instruction. Just a few days ago, she'd had only the faintest notion of how to milk a cow. She had received quite the education in farm life since then.
She ventured a tugging half-twist, and she heard his breath catch.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Just like that. I love how soft your hands are. Not like a farm girl's at all."
She stiffened involuntarily at that, wondering if he was about to denounce her as a fraud, but Larkin released his grip on her hand and relaxed back against the sofa.
"Keep going," he urged her.
Emboldened, she repeated the motion.
"Harder," he ordered. "And you can go faster, too."
She looked at him questioningly.
He chuckled. "Don't worry, Angel. You won't hurt me." He paused and licked his lips, then added in a low voice, "I like it rough, too."
Her bare breasts tingled at the reminder. It felt utterly decadent to be lying here with him, half-naked in the full light of day, touching and stroking each other's most intimate parts.
She experimented, squeezing and varying the speed with which she moved her hand on him, trying to learn what pleased him. Eager to pleasure him like he'd just pleasured her, she paid close attention to his reactions.
After a few minutes, Larkin turned his head to kiss her, a long, languorous exploration different from the hard urgency of his earlier kisses.
His breath stirred her hair as he rested his cheek on the top of her head, occasionally hitching when she did something he liked.
After a few minutes, he began to move his hips, thrusting into her fisted hand. Experimentally, she brushed her thumb over the rounded tip of his manhood. Larkin's hips jerked up as if she'd just poked him with a sharpened stick, and he groaned.
"I'm so very sorry!" she exclaimed, immediately loosening her hold on him. "I didn't mean—"
His hand snaked out and clamped around her wrist in a steely grip.
"Don't stop!" he ordered, harshly. "That felt damned good."
"Oh." She reached for him again and tentatively repeated the caress, eliciting another moan of what she now recognized as pleasure rather than pain.
As she moved her hand upon him, her own desire blossomed back to life, aching and urgent.
Just a short while ago, Sarah had been extremely nervous about the prospect of losing her virginity to a man with no intention of wedding her. Now here she was, naked in his living room, shamelessly trading wicked caresses with him and aware that she badly wanted a repeat of the glorious explosion of pleasure that he'd given her a short while ago.
As she concentrated on her work, pumping his rigid shaft, he began stroking her breast. Her still-sensitive nipple stiffened instantly under his teasing fingertips, and she gasped with pleasure.
"Is this getting you all worked up and wet again?" he said.
Her cheeks heated. Is it that obvious? She nodded.
"I want to see you enjoying yourself, Angel. And I want to see your sweet titties while you're working."
He tweaked the tip of her breast, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure, heightened with just a whisper of pain, down her spine and straight to the throbbing place between her legs.
She moaned with reawakened need. "What should I do?"
"I got an idea." He rose from the sofa and swiftly disrobed.
Aside from a few marble statues, Larkin was the first naked man she had ever seen. Like the statues, he was all vital strength and sharply defined muscle. Unlike the statues, his forearms, chest, and legs were furred with black hair, and his big, erect manhood rose from a dark nest at his groin.
Magnificently nude, he unashamedly let her look her fill as he deftly folded his long union suit, shirt, and jeans.
She couldn't suppress a gasp when he turned to place the small stack of garments on the armchair. The skin of his back was unevenly striped with the pale lines of old scars. Some looked as if they'd been inflicted with a blade or the lash of a whip, and others were uneven blotches that might have been burn scars.
"What on earth—?" she began.
"Ancient history, Sarah," he cut her off, his tone sharp. His lips thinned and his gray eyes were suddenly cold and very distant. "And we've got more pleasant things to think about right now."
She remembered the story of how Larkin had come to live with Walt's family. Sickness roiled through her stomach at this illustration of what Larkin's boyhood must have been like before he'd been rescued.
No wonder Mr. Edwards intervened! My father may not be a good man, but at least he never beat me.
"All right," she said softly, and reached for him. "What do you want me to do?"
His expression warmed up, and he gave her one of the those dangerously attractive grins.
"First, I'm gonna lay on this couch…"
When Larkin had finished arranging them to his satisfaction, he was on his back, stretched out on the sofa. She was kneeling, straddling one of his legs and facing him.
"Now move your hips," he ordered as he folded his arms behind his head. "Let me feel how wet you are for me."
She moved tentatively, rubbing the newly awakened place between her legs against the ridge of hard muscle beneath her. Her breath caught at the jolts of pleasure that resulted from the friction.
"That feel good?" he asked.
She nodded and repeated the movement.
"Great," he said thickly. "Keep riding me like that. Now, touch my cock just like you did before, and I guarantee we'll both be in a happy place real soon."
She wrapped her fingers around his hot shaft and began to rub her core against his leg, slowly at first, then more quickly as she felt pleasure tightening in the pit of her belly like a coiled spring.
Beneath her, Larkin was flushed and panting, and every muscle in his magnificent body was tensed a
nd quivering. His hot gaze never left her.
Then he groaned and stiffened beneath her, every muscle tensed like a sculpture in high relief. Spurts of hot, sticky liquid erupted from his organ and spattered against her bare torso.
With a long, contented sigh, Larkin relaxed against the pillows, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she kept moving against him, rubbing herself faster and harder against his hard ridges of muscle and bone as her own impending release tightened the muscles of her belly, then sent her soaring on an updraft of exquisite sensation.