Wild (Regency Scandal 2) by Carole Mortimer (the best books of all time .txt) 📕

“Please, Andrew,” she complied, needing, aching, for wherever Andrew’s lovemaking was taking her.

Her weeklong marriage to Ewan had been as warm and happy as their love was for each other, their lovemaking having increased that warmth and closeness.

But Cat had never reached this standing-on-a-precipice feeling before. She knew that once she allowed Andrew to take her over that ledge and into the unknown, she would never be the same again.

Andrew chuckled softly. “Much as it pleases me to hear my name on your lips, that was not what I was asking for.”

Her glare returned. “Then what do you want from me?”

“Tut, tut, tut, little Cat,” he murmured in disappointment as his fingers slid from inside her. “That belligerent tone is really not the one you want to take with me when I know your body is hot and demanding release.”

Her nails dug into the sides of his thighs in her frustration. “I have no idea what you want me to say!”

Those chiseled lips curved up into a smile. “It is a little early in our relationship for me to spend the night in your bed, but I do want you to ask me to fuck you with my fingers. I shall then give you the release you crave.”

Her cheeks burned. “I canna say that.”

“Of course you can.”

Cat’s aching need to know the fullness of that promised pleasure and her feelings of rebellion at having to so crudely ask for it continued to war inside her as Andrew patiently waited for her answer.

Rebellion won out for several long seconds as Cat decided she could well continue to do without what she had never known—

She gasped as Andrew, obviously having tired of waiting for her answer, had leaned forward to pull the front of her robe open and her night rail down far enough to release her breasts from those confines. His large palm cupped one of them, before his fingers grasped hold of the nipple and he began to tug down on the sensitive tip to the same rhythm as his fingers now stroked the nubbin between her thighs.

“Ask me, little Cat, or I shall have to stop again, and this time, I might not resume,” he growled close to her ear.

“I hate you!” She wanted to hit him. To scratch her nails down the firmness of one of his cheeks. But more than that, she wanted—and damn him he knew that she did—that elusive something being promised to her by those dexterous fingers.

“No, you don’t,” he chided indulgently. “All you have to do is ask me.” The fingers and thumb of one hand squeezed her nipple, and the fingers of the other hand the sensitive and plumped nubbin between her thighs.

She wanted, oh God, she wanted… “Please, Andrew.” There was a sob in her words. “Please, please, please.”

He ceased all movement. “Yes?”

“I want… I want…”

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Why do you want me to say it?”

“Because it excites me to hear you use such words as you plead with me for your release.” His forceful answer was accompanied by a throb of his engorged cock.

Cat breathed unevenly as the evidence of Andrew’s desire for her caused another wave of need to sweep over her. “Please fuck me with your fingers. Please, Andrew,” she choked. “I need you to do it!”

“Then you shall have it,” he promised gruffly, his teeth biting down on the sensitive skin behind her ear at the same time as his fingers and thumb pulled down painfully on one of her nipples and he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

It was pleasure and pain together, Cat’s thighs undulating into the rhythm of those thrusting fingers, at the same time as she gasped and groaned at the pleasure of that sharp pull, each in turn, on the plumpness of her nipples.

Pleasure coiled higher and higher inside her, tighter and tighter, until it finally broke, the pleasure overwhelming.

Chapter Nine

Andrew had never seen anything as wondrous as watching his little Cat lose herself to the pleasure of her release.

Her body quivered and shook.

Her face was flushed.

Eyes fever bright.

Her breathing ragged.

Her breasts were swollen and the nipples plump and sensitive from where he had pulled on them.

Her channel walls contracted over and over again about his thrusting fingers as the release of her juices gushed hot and viscous between them and down her thighs.

Andrew continued to thrust his fingers inside her, to pull on her nipples, until he was sure he had extracted and given Cat every bit of pleasure from her climax.

By the time he swung her up into his arms and walked around to the side of the bed, her limbs were limp and unmoving. She could only stare up at him with unblinking and unfocused eyes after he had placed her on top of the bed.

Andrew eyed her curiously as he gently unfastened and removed her robe, straightened her night rail so it once again covered the swell of her breasts.

He could not, however, bring himself to pull up the bedcovers and walk away from her quite yet. “You seem somewhat…surprised, by your own release.”

Was it possible…? Could Cat’s dazed expression really be due to her never having known that physical pleasure until now, despite being a widow?

She chewed on her bottom lip for several seconds before confirming his suspicion. “I have never felt that degree of ecstasy before tonight.”

Andrew appreciated how much that husky admission must have cost her, when she had obviously loved her husband dearly.

But her confession confirmed something else Andrew had suspected might be the case when Cat spoke of Ewan: the two of them had been too much best friends to ever attain the heights of passion and pleasure together as lovers.

There was nothing wrong with that. Many couples found happiness together with far less than friendship. Andrew felt sure that if Ewan had lived, the wondrous creature that was Cat, loyal and true, would never have looked at Andrew twice. Well…she probably would have