Sunday Breakfast

July 7, 2019

His nostrils flared and he couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted her bodily, moving her farther up on the bed, placing her head and shoulders against the pillows, and then pushed up her chemise, crawling between her spread thighs and settling to enjoy what he’d found.

There. There she was, her pretty, pretty pink cunny, all coral lips and wispy dark-blond curls. He hiked her trembling legs over his arms, ignoring her gasp of shocked surprise. He glanced up at once and saw wide, wondering eyes gazing back at him. Her gentlemanly first husband had evidently never done this to her.

More fool he.

Then he bent and feasted.

His nose pressed into her mound, inhaling her woman’s scent, his cock grinding hard into the bed, his tongue licking into tart and salt and her.

Oh God, her.

She squealed at his first touch and tried to squirm away, but he held her fast with his hands on her hips. He almost smiled against her tender flesh, his teeth scraping oh so gently. She might be startled, might be outraged and shocked, but she liked it.

Perhaps even loved it- what he was doing to her.

She was moaning now, low in her throat, making little mewling sounds, so erotic and sweet, her hips twitching against his lips, trying to get more. He opened his mouth, covering her, breathing over her. He stiffened his tongue and speared into her as far as he could reach, his jaw aching. She cried out at that and he felt fingers tangling in his hair.

He withdrew his tongue and moved to her clitoris, taking the small bit of flesh gently between his teeth and pulling. She froze, trembling all over, and he could hear her gasping breaths. He opened his mouth and licked her. Softly. Tenderly.


And at the same time he shoved two fingers into her, feeling her wet walls contract against his knuckles, smelling the rise of her arousal.

She arched under him, her soft thighs thrashing restlessly, making no sound, but he knew.

He knew.

He curled the fingers inside her and stroked her wet, silky inner walls as he pulled them back.Then he shoved them again into her, hard and firm, repeating the motion as he suckled her clitoris.
She moaned – loud in the quiet room – and pushed against him, and he felt her tremble and suddenly grow wetter. She shuddered helplessly and he was drunk on her release, his cock a heavy, near-painful throb.

He turned his head and kissed the inside of her soft thigh, listening to her pant.

Elizabeth Hoyt
Duke of Desire