The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

“You’re kneeling, Sean,” she whispered, her voice unsteady yet laced with teasing; a playful reminder of the last time I made her come.

I lifted my eyes to hers, skimming my fingers up the back of her legs and drawing circles on the backs of her knees.

“I’ll beg,” I said, clearly senseless with my need to make her come, though I meant it.

I would beg if she required it.

My frankness was rewarded straightaway. “What are you doing to me?” she asked, dazed. Her stare moved over my face, helpless hunger making her eyes glow. Her legs trembled beneath my fingertips.

“Please, Lucy . . .” Holding her gaze, I separated her with my thumbs and deliberately leaned forward, gently traced the warm flesh of her slit with my tongue. Always gently. “Please let me taste you. Please let me make you feel good.”

“Damn, damn, damn . . .” She pushed her hips forward, widening her stance, her head falling back against the wall.

Her legs flexed as I devoured her, and I followed the indentations and curves of her muscles with my fingertips to the silky smoothness between her thighs. As I traced, I catalogued her skin, discovering and memorizing her most sensitive places.

I knew when she grew restless, tired of my teasing touches and the light flicks of my tongue. I fed her hunger, easing two fingers into her body and licking a path from the apex of her thighs to her clit, sucking the bead between my lips.

She came with an abrupt, sharp cry, her body clenching, her hips rocking over my mouth, her fingers twisting in my short hair.

I needed this. I needed the sounds of her pleasure, the artless spontaneity of her release.

And I needed her to do it again.





Chapter Fourteen


@EilishCassidy to @SeanCassinova Where are you? #CrankyAuntWantsToKnow @SeanCassinova to @EilishCassidy Someplace I never want to leave. #Heaven

Sean

I tugged lightly and she tumbled forward, unable to support her own weight. I captured her, gathered her close in my arms. She grasped me weakly, her head resting against my shoulder as I listened to her shuddering breaths, felt her body trembling.

Accomplishment. And . . . pride. A deep, thorough satisfaction spread like wildfire through my veins, warming me from the inside as she snuggled closer, gripped me tighter, sighed the sigh of replete contentment.

“A plus plus,” she murmured against my neck, placing a kiss there.

I lifted an eyebrow, loving the friction of her soft skin as she moved. “Pardon?”

“You get an A double plus in cunnilingus, Sean. You’ve graduated.”

I smiled to myself, because though I didn’t require additional verbal verification beyond her panting groans and cries of pleasure, I enjoyed her candor.

“Good.” I kissed her temple and sought her hand. I kissed her knuckles one at a time. Then I searched for something else to kiss and decided on her neck since it was closest.

Her head lolled to the side, allowing me greater access. “Seriously. Gold star. Your parents will be so proud at the end of term.”

I chuckled, understanding and appreciating the joke even though my familial history made it more perverse than funny. Pushing thoughts of my parentage away, I fondled her breast, massaging it, loving the weight and feel of it beneath my palm.

“Oh, Christ. You’re not done, are you?” She groaned, though it was a happy groan, spiced with excitement.

“Not by half.” I tasted the skin of her neck, looking for a spot that made her squirm, and found it just below her ear.

Her breath hitched. “Is this where I’m supposed to kneel for you?”

Yes.

I concentrated my efforts on the spot I’d discovered because the thought of her kneeling for me sent all my blood racing southward. I nipped at her earlobe, brushing my thumb back and forth over her nipple, forcing myself to go slow.

I needed to be mindful, especially when she made me mindless.

“That depends,” I whispered. “Do you want to kneel?”

She nodded lazily. Her nails carved half-moons into my shoulders as she arched against me, offering more of her neck.

“Will you beg?”

She nodded more vehemently, rubbing her thighs together restlessly. I slid my hand down her ribs—counting them on the way—and grabbed a handful of her gorgeous, round arse.

“Will you say please?” I swirled my tongue into her earlobe and she shivered. I made note of the reaction.

My Lucy had sensitive ears. Good to know.

“Please.” The single word was choked, pitched high, and pleading.

I grinned. If this exchange were any indication, being mindful was its own reward.

“Please what, lovely Lucy?” Bringing her clawing hand to the towel over my cock, I encouraged her to stroke me through the cloth.

Just there.

“Please fuck me, Sean.”

“How?”

“Please take me from behind.”