Chapter Twenty-Five

Myfanwy yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Or she tried to. Something was wrapped around her middle, making any movement next to impossible. She opened her eyes—and was staring straight into Samuel Everett’s slumbering face.

“Go back to sleep,” he grumbled, tightening his grasp on her hips.

Myfanwy felt impossibly warm—and confused—as Samuel covered her like a blanket, intertwining their legs like a Celtic knot underneath the sheets.

She felt his groan all the way to her bones. “You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered.

“What… I don’t…” Myfanwy stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my bedroom.”

“I know that, but you usually aren’t in it…at this time,” Myfanwy added awkwardly. They’d spent many nights together in this bed, but she’d never woken up next to him. Samuel always made such a point to leave bright and early, avoiding her.

Samuel’s two-toned eyes finally opened, and they searched her as if she had gone insane. “Can’t a man sleep late in his bed with a beautiful woman?”

Myfanwy was annoyed by how those little words managed to make her chest flutter. And by how the lazy way his hands roved around her hips made it so difficult to follow the conversation.

Samuel shifted, pressing his pelvis into hers in a snug embrace that left very little to the imagination. “We didn’t get to sleep until late, if you’ll remember. You kept me rather busy.”

Myfanwy’s cheeks felt positively scorched. She dipped her head under his chin, inhaling the warm, musky scent of his body. “I don’t recall you complaining.”

His laugh rumbled against her cheek. “I didn’t, and I’m not now.”

Samuel’s hand wove a path down her side, riding the crest of her thigh until it landed between her legs. Myfanwy’s face could not possibly get any hotter. She could feel and hear how wet she still was from their lovemaking.

Samuel placed light kisses on her neck as he played with her folds, sleepily, dreamily. “I’ve never had a woman wake up next to me before,” he said, his voice impossibly low. “I like it.”

His petting became more insistent, and Myfanwy gripped his shoulder, not able to control the undulations of her lower half. “Do you like it, or do you like me?”

His grin was pure wolf. “Both?” He chuckled gruffly. “What about you?”

The tips of his fingers skipped over the small button of nerves of her sex, and she let out a faint mew. “I like both too,” she panted, curving her pelvis insistently toward him, trying to gain more friction.

Without preamble, Samuel pressed two fingers into her. Immediately, Myfanwy’s breath hitched, and she jerked away.

“Fuck,” Samuel said, lifting his head, scowling. “It’s too much. Too soon. We should let your body rest.”

Should they? Myfanwy wondered. Because it hadn’t hurt that much—she’d just been caught off guard by the pinch. And…she didn’t want to stop. Now that her seduction had ended, she only wanted to reap the benefits.

Her expression must have been telling, because Samuel’s grin came back, just as lustful as it had been before. “I have an idea,” he said, sliding from the mattress.

“I don’t like any ideas that have you leaving the bed,” she grumbled. But Samuel only laughed, walking across the room as naked as the day he was born to the chest of drawers against the far wall.

This was nothing to complain about. The view was entirely to Myfanwy’s liking. There would never come a time when Samuel’s body didn’t astound her…or make her mouth water. He was godlike to her with his long, sinuous limbs and bulging muscles. Just holding him felt like she held all the power in the world. And to make Myfanwy feel even more potent, she noticed that his gait was natural and even, with nary a limp in sight. She wondered if she’d just met him whether she would be able to notice one at all.

And that was because of her. If Myfanwy was being fanciful, she might conclude that it was her love that fixed him; however, it was probably more her lust. If the man could inspire anything, it was that.

Samuel plucked the familiar cotton sack from the drawers and returned to the bed, a devilish expression on his face. “It’s your turn,” he said, sliding in next to her, throwing the sheets off.

Myfanwy shivered when the wave of cold hit her. Samuel shivered as well, but for very different reasons.

For a moment, they both stared at her naked body, at her nipples instantly growing turgid and puckered from the temperature and attention.

Samuel placed his hand over her stomach, stretching his fingers to encompass the entire plane. “You are magnificent,” he said, his voice a heady mixture of awe and longing.

“So are you.”

“No.” He shook his head, moving his hand in circles. “You tell me that you won’t break, but I have a hard time understanding that. Priceless things are supposed to be more delicate.” He released a ragged breath. “But this—you are the single most precious thing in the world to me.”

Two pink spots formed on his cheeks, and Myfanwy wondered if Samuel knew what he was telling her. He loved her. For how long, she wasn’t sure, but he was as madly in love with her as she was him. Which made her next move much less intimidating.

Lifting her arm, Myfanwy reached for Samuel’s manhood, which stood thick and tumescent next to her. She heard him hiss and squeezed her fist around the base, just holding him, watching as he appeared to grow even more under her grasp.

“Up and down,” he whispered hoarsely. “Slowly at first. You pump me up and down. Yes, just like that, sweetheart. Fuck.” Samuel’s head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple popping from his throat.

Myfanwy loved the feel of him, all silky and sleek, glossy and heated, totally at her mercy. But something felt like it was missing, even with all his erotic moans and panted breaths that were making her rather inflamed.

She turned on her side and leaned over, deciding her next move before she could think twice. Myfanwy licked the top of his staff like it was dollop of cream, startling Samuel out of his moment of pleasure.

“Christ!” he cried, planting his hand at the back of her head. Myfanwy glanced up. His golden chest was heaving like he’d just run up a mountain. His eyes were round with shock.

“Too much?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Samuel moved his hand to the front of her face and swept his thumb across her lower lip. She bit into it, and the tendons of his neck pulsed. “Never,” he said.

“Good.” Myfanwy went back to him, working his staff while she figured out what to do with her mouth. Samuel gave her no coaching on this part of the act, allowing her imagination and curiosity to inform her. When she’d coated his tip in kisses and licks, she ran her tongue down the side of him, tasting from the base all the way to the top. Samuel trembled uncontrollably, muttering barely coherent words as he bucked in her grasp.

Myfanwy had worried that she wouldn’t like the taste of him but was pleasantly surprised. Samuel’s flavor was exotic and salty, spicy and masculine, and she decided she would enjoy him even more in her mouth. On an inhale, she swallowed him and took him as deep down her throat as she could, hearing a slew of curses on the outside of her concentration.

“Suck me, sweetheart,” Samuel groaned, bucking into her mouth, and instantly Myfanwy understood what he needed. She tightened her lips around him, sucking in her breath as her mouth replaced her hand and she moved up and down his manhood. She remembered her tongue, and when she swirled it around his thickness, Samuel grabbed her shoulders and quickly released himself from her hold.

When he was free, he threw her back on the bed and covered her, locking their mouths in a frenzied kiss that told her that he very much appreciated her little experiment.

Samuel was frantic, palming her breasts, massaging them with his calloused hands. Myfanwy’s body was beyond control. She surged underneath him like a wave, rolling and swelling from all the sensation coursing through her. “Let me keep going,” she whined as Samuel latched on to her breast, sucking with the same intensity she’d bestowed on him.

“No,” he choked out, kissing a trail to the other nipple, laving the mound, cupping it in his hand. “This was supposed to be about you.”

“It is about me.”

“No,” he repeated, leaning back to reclaim the brown sack. His fingers shook as he took out the oil and poured some in his hands. He rubbed them together as she had done before in their massage sessions and placed them on the tops of her thighs, caressing her tender skin in a calm, meandering way that belied his ragged breaths.

Samuel’s head was low, and it tracked his hands closely like a sculptor admiring his own work. “It’s about time we used this tincture the way it was meant to be used.”

Myfanwy climbed up on her forearms; however, the effort cost. Seeing how happy and content Samuel looked as he explored her body almost made her combust then and there. “What do you mean? How is it supposed to be used?”

He laughed near her skin, causing goosebumps to form. His hands traveled further and further toward the apex between her legs. “You aren’t so innocent as that still? You know what the girl, Holly, does for a living?”

“Of course.”

“Well…” Samuel focused on her inner thighs, moving his hands higher, inch by inch, until he was just below her sex. He kneaded her there, his grip hard and unrelenting as he forced the ache in the muscles to relent. “Now that you’re well versed in the art of making love, I’m sure you have a greater appreciation for those that do it on a nightly—sometimes hourly—basis.”

Was he still talking? Myfanwy wasn’t sure. Her mind had to choose between listening to his words or feeling the blessed sensations he was showering her with. It was an easy choice.

“They use this tincture so they can repair their body, be supple and ready for another customer.”

Myfanwy’s smile widened. “Are you my customer, then?”

“The only one you’ll ever have.”

Samuel wasn’t looking at her when he said it, but his cheeks flushed once more, divulging more of his heart than he knew.

It was all too much for Myfanwy. She needed him. Now.

She closed her legs and shifted up to sitting. Samuel opened his mouth in protest, and she stopped him with one finger over his lips. She maneuvered him until he was back on his heels, and she situated herself on top of him, her legs on either side of his.

Face to face, nose to nose, they contemplated one another for long seconds. Every time Samuel tried to kiss her, she jerked just out of his reach. Then, just when she couldn’t take his adorable scowl any longer, Myfanwy lifted on her knees, centering his rod at her entrance. Slowly, oh so slowly, she impaled herself on him, allowing her body to acclimate once more to his overwhelming force. This time when Samuel’s mouth opened, she placed her lips on him, not kissing, only exchanging hiccups of breaths; they fed each other their souls as they shared the riotous sensations.

Eventually, Myfanwy rested on his thighs, taking him fully. Samuel closed his eyes with a groan, and he didn’t budge, content to pulse and be sheathed by her. He gripped the flesh of her thighs, waiting…waiting, waiting, for Myfanwy to move.

It was a small development, a flutter and flex of muscles, really. Then Myfanwy arched her back, grinding into Samuel’s lap, feeling him massage her inner muscles as proficiently as he had her outside ones. She let her head fall back, and her breasts pushed against his chest, proving too much for him. Samuel lapped and supped on her as she began to undulate, moving up and down, little by little. If cricket was truly a game of inches, so was lovemaking. The tiniest movement could create an avalanche of skin-tingling reactions.

But soon, even that was not enough. Samuel took charge, lifting and lowering her on him; the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room as erotically as Samuel filled her. Myfanwy clutched the back of his neck, riding him with punishing strokes.

She felt him flicker inside her, knowing that he was close to finishing. Myfanwy wanted them to end this carnal journey together. She arched her pelvis even more, finding a new angle. Their bodies were slick with sweat, bright and gleaming in the morning light. Samuel was her angel—her guardian angel.

That thought tipped her over the cliff. They cried out at the same time, stretching and grinding their bodies even more against each other to sop up every last drop of euphoria from the act. Eventually, they flopped together onto the bed, still twined in each other’s arms, still enchanted by what had just overtaken them.

“I suppose we should get up,” Myfanwy said when she confirmed that she could speak again. “I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you.”

“I suppose,” Samuel said, burrowing his head into her chest like a little boy who thought he could hide from the daylight. “You as well?”

Myfanwy played with his hair, twirling his wavy curls around her fingers. “Naturally. There are always calls to be made. Things to do.”

Samuel pulled away, a wry smile on his lips. “We could also stay in.”

She gnawed at her lower lip. “Stay in?”

“There are plenty of people here to keep us busy.”

“That’s true,” she replied slowly. “But what would we do?”

“Play.”