Page 68 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“I love it.” He grunted and sank himself deeper.

Her cunny was warm and even more welcoming than coming home after a too-long trip in the cold. He hated to slide out. But, oh the pleasurable friction as he slid back in.

Losing control of his overwhelming emotions as he thrust himself to the hilt, he whispered, “I love you, Josephine.”

She cried out.

Bloody hell. He’d been a beast and hurt her. How unfortunate that it had been at the same time he’d bared his soul. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek.

“I love ye, too. Now, harder,” she demanded as she crashed her hips against his.

Since he’d never deny her anything, he pounded into her sweet heat. Over and over again, the primal beast within him savagely thrust. His heart beat ferociously, thumping in his ears like an out-of-control drum. Sweat slicked his torso as he hammered away, chasing his pleasure.

He halted for a moment to take in air.

Before he’d captured a full breath, Josie wrapped her legs around him and rolled them. His cock slid from her as she swung one leg over his hip and straddled him.

Holy bollocks. Moments ago, she’d been a virgin, and now she was going to ride him to kingdom come. At least, he hoped that’s what she was preparing to do.

Hair everywhere and eyes wild with lust, she placed his tip against her quim and slammed down hard. Her walls gripped him and tugged him even deeper.

He was drowning. Drowning in pleasure. Drowning in emotion. Drowning in Josie.

“Fuck,” he grunted. The unseemly utterance suited since it was the only word that captured the awe of being fucked good and proper by his love with her athletic body built for sin.

Her muscular thighs encased in soft skin, rubbed against his hips, and her buxom breasts bounced as she rode him.

“Is this correct?” she panted out as her arse slammed against his pelvis.

“Perfect,” he panted back. “You’re so bloody tight.”

A blush traveled from her bosom up her neck, and her cheeks reddened.

How precious. She was riding him as if she was a champion jockey and he a prize-winning thoroughbred, and she still blushed at his lewd words.

He wasn’t skilled at suggestive talk, and yet, filthy words tumbled from him.

“Fuck me, Josie. Use my body.”

She whimpered as her thighs tightened around him. A gush of feminine juices sluiced over his cock.

“That’s it, Luv. Ride me hard.” He gripped her hips, lifted her, and brought her down hard.

She gasped.

His fingertips dug into her flesh as he repeatedly slammed her onto his cock. Her whimpers of pleasure and the clang of the headboard hitting the wall added to the whirring frenzy.

Sitting tall, Josie undulated her torso. She was his magnificent goddess, more beautiful than a portrait of Venus come to life. She threw her head back in ecstasy. “Nicolas. Oh, God!” Her cry echoed as her walls spasmed around him.

Gritting his teeth, he lay still and fought his orgasm with everything he had. He simply couldn’t come inside her. Not because he didn’t want her to bear his children but because, at this point in her life, a baby would steal her dreams.

Being careful not to slide out of her quivering cunny, he rolled them. Sweat dripped from his brow to plink onto her flushed bosom.

Holding her gaze, he thrust into her until a tingling took over his belly, traveled to his groin, and then spiraled to a single point in his throbbing balls.

With an animal-like grunt, he withdrew. Grasping his cock, he stroked, and then he gave a feral roar as his seed spurted, coating both of their bellies.

Too undone to hold himself up, he collapsed onto the bed beside her. He used the edge of the counterpane to clean them, then threw his forearm over his forehead and melted into the mattress.