Regency Rogues Omnibus (84 page)

Kit’s nails scored down his chest as he hunkered down over her legs. Then, he scooped her legs up under her knees lifting them toward her chest. He was not gentlemanly or sophisticated, but earthy and urgent. The demand inside him was that he taste mink-cunty now! And it was a mink, soft and velvet, spongy and wet. With Kit’s knees draped over his forearms he could see the lips of her cleft still pressed together with swollen promise, protruding slightly. Ripe mink-cunty was exposed to him as his gaze never left it, while his mouth descended.

“Bry!” Kit squealed, as his tongue lapped saliva over the pressed together lips of her muff. Her fingernails scraped his shoulders.
“Oh mm,
Bry. Oh yes! Yes!”

Her naked ass wiggled upward grinding her hot muff onto his tongue as the scent of her exuding arousal reached his nostrils like a high-pitched tang. That feminine ambrosia went straight to the head of his pounding prick. The material enclosing his woody-prick became irritating. He lapped the puffy lips of Kit’s fevered mink as he reached his free hand to the ties on his britches, fumbling, with hot feminine muff steaming in his mouth and Kit’s moans of eager pleasure prancing from her panting lips. Then finally, his stiff woody was free, blood hammering into his balls as it stretched fully, veins engorged, ridges pulsing. He let it jut with his britches down around his knees as he brought his hand to the back of Kit’s thigh, pushing and raising her ass higher to expose her torrid muff more, as he licked it, then looked at it, then licked it again and again. He knew that he teased Kit’s senses by not burrowing inward as her moans drew higher-pitched with begging qualities.

Kit was enraptured with her mind skipping in and out of someplace that nearly felt like another world. A world she’d never visited before. She had tried to act experienced and worldly before, but the truth was no man had ever laid his mouth to her sex. She’d suckled a man’s shaft before, beneath the type of impervious demand that it was expected of all women. She’d secretly enjoyed most of that, although the continued disparaging comments on her talent had hurt.

Never in her wildest imagination had she thought that men put their mouths to women’s slits, kissing and licking them. Lord! It was bliss! And at the same time, Brynmore licked over her sex lips like they were the best candy-treat he’d ever tasted, he would stop for seconds, lift his head slightly and praise her, and then praise her sex in his husky bass voice. The words were like the best aphrodisiac she’d ever felt. “Hot. Pretty! Gorgeous. Wet! Beautiful.” All said in a malt-whiskey slow Scottish burr, until the sounds of her pleasure became clearer and she was braver at giving voice to them.

It was as if Brynmore loved her sex-slit and he praised it over and over, while her body undulated and ground against his mouth for more. Her body knew there was more. Her sex knew and her clitoris cried for it as the rapture tightened and began pounding in her center. She’d been so close to climax before when she’d ridden Brynmore’s boot. Then she’d gotten a little frightened at showing her vulnerability alone. Her experience was a man on top of her clutching and the climaxes coming close together, but not out in the open as he watched.

So she’d panicked a little and pulled away from Brynmore to regroup and gain courage. But then Brynmore toppled her onto the bed and did the most amazing thing. There was no regrouping from this... His hot mouth suckling and his tongue lapping. It was the most unbelievably erotic feeling she’d ever encountered. To have a man, that she was so attracted to, touch her so intimately was beyond pleasure! Then suddenly, his tongue circled the entrance to her vagina and her thighs quaked uncontrollably.

“Lord! Lord!” Kit gasped, as a spike of sharp pleasure clinched deep inside her sex, while her fingers tangled frantically in the hair on the top of Brynmore’s head. “Oh,
my
lord,” she panted with her back arching.

Then Brynmore’s tongue slid into her vagina. “Ah!” she cried out, feeling a whorl of pleasure so different from any she’d felt before. Her clitoris throbbed as if it might burst, but there was a different, more powerful pang of feeling coming from the in and out thrust of Brynmore’s tongue. “B... B...
B!
” Kit could not say his name.

She could not breathe as he built speed, mating his tongue inside her, pulling it out, plunging it deep again. She squirmed her legs over his forearm trying to free them with the intense hunger to spread them wide. But he did not let her — he kept them tight as his tongue mated her so vigorously that her buttocks rocked. The deep, strange spiking of pleasure built in her core and suddenly it ruptured, bursting into her sheath. Explosive thrills vibrated through her sheath to the depths of her womb carrying her to the pinnacle of unconsciousness.

“Ah!” she screamed. The rapture twisted through her as she felt the final release. The liquid welling through the tremors of the repeating quakes, wracking through her body. Deep into the ecstasy, her body arched into tense convulsions. She could feel the liquid coating her buttocks. She gasped a breath as if she’d been drowning for long minutes and had finally reached the surface and air. A moment to breathe and still her climax rippled through her with Brynmore’s tongue edging it on.

Ejaculated cunty juices coated Brynmore’s face and chin. Blessed Mary! He’d heard of this before. Once in a late night male drunken soirée, where a lusty old coot claimed that his late wife could squirt his face with her come juice, liken to a prick ejaculating. Brynmore had never had it happen before, although he had to admit that he’d been testing Kit’s penetration climaxes as opposed to her clitty ones, by using his tongue to fuck her and never touching her clit.

Bloody hell! He wanted to shout and start the bagpipes! His woody-prick was pounding and his woman had just exploded on his mouth, marking him for life. He should want to thrust his engorged and throbbing prick deep inside her but he had more voracious cravings than that ... to propel Kit into coming again.

Brynmore loosened Kit’s knees over his forearm, running his palms on either side down the creamy heated skin of her inner thighs, pressing her legs open wide. Just as the plump lips of her mink split open revealing the thrust of her clitty, he dropped his mouth over it like a ravenous babe after its Ma’s tit.

“B ... Bry!” Kit squealed and he held her writhing body down by his hands clamped to her inner thighs, stretching the tendons tight as he held her open to him, her thatch of yellow pubic hair tickling his nose. Staccato cries issued from her mouth in incoherent pitches of ardor as he sucked the swollen bud of her clitty, drawing hard and fast with repeated ferocity.

Brynmore moved the grip of his hands under Kit’s thighs and lifted her ass upward and her cunty deeper against his mouth, as he growled and she screeched. He could feel it then, Kit’s returning climax. So quickly! He moved one of his hands so that he could plunge his finger deep into her clenching cove. When it came, Kit grounded her muff against him wildly and nearly pulled his ears off.

Brynmore twisted his head free of Kit’s clutching fingers and he rose above her. The demand to have his prick buried into Kit’s climaxing cove was beyond containing. The backs of Kit’s thighs fell to the tops of his thighs as he knelt between her legs, with his hand around the scorching heat of his shaft, as he guided the head to Kit’s entrance. Her breasts were heaving and her soft belly was still rippling with the effects of her climax as he thrust his prick head between her sopping cunty lips. The seed-soaked head of his prick combined with Kit’s drenched sex made the way slick enough that his prick slid deep into her on the first thrust.

“
Fuck
.” His exclamation echoed in the room at the tight heat gripping his wooden prick from the tip to the base.

“Yes, Bry!” Kit mewled as she curled up to him, her arms around his neck embracing him and wrapping her legs up over the tops of his hips. Her head nudged under his chin with her lips sucking his chest as he pumped his hips several times with aggravated groans wrenched from his throat.

Bloody hell, he’d not had but his own hand for many months. Now war raged inside him. One wanting to savor — the other wanting to fuck. Yet one thing was certain, he had an overwhelming desire to see Kit’s face as he thrust into her. He wanted to see his prick fucking her, in the storm of her blue eyes and he rolled backward taking Kit with him, until they sat face to face. His legs were bent under him as he was kneeling on his heels on the bed with Kit’s legs around his hips.

“Ah, lord,” she moaned.

And he agreed with her.
That movement of his body, both of them together with his prick deep in her cove did wicked things to his body all the way down into his balls. Kit’s head came up as his hands circled her waist and he used that leverage to begin pushing and pulling. His hips helped the thrust and retreat of his prick into her searing cunty. Their eyes locked and he saw each plunge in the depths of Kit’s blue eyes. She helped by grasping his shoulders, tightening her legs around his hips to rock in motion with his thrusts. Their speed built, while her moans cascaded, he dropped his gaze during pumping intervals to look at his fiery-red thickness piercing the rosy-swollen daintiness of Kit’s sex.

His returning groan was deep, like the burn of his seed rising, as Kit’s eyes squinted and their thighs slapped. “That’s it, sweet,” he groaned. “That’s it!”

“Bry,
oh!
” she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Brynmore pulled Kit harder to him with each plunge, making her breath pant out sharply as their slick skin made smacking sounds against each other. “Ah yes! That’s so good, Kit sweet. Ah, Christ!”

“Bry!
Oh, Bry! Oh!”

Brynmore dug his toes into the mattress as his lips dropped over Kit’s mouth. “
Kiss
me, Kit. Give me your tongue. Deep!”

“Bry! Mm!”

Kit’s tongue surged into his mouth. He took it with hard suction as they ground and humped together even more wildly. Kit’s whimpers were shrill and he realized that she was going to climax again for him. He shifted his hands to push her belly forward and her clitty more onto the base of his cock with each hard fuck that he took. Her nails scratched his sweaty back as she wormed on his prick and he bellowed a groan calling the nearness of his ejaculation. He felt it, Kit’s cunty clenching his prick.

“Ah! Fuck! Yes!” he bellowed as his seed pumped free and he threw his head back, repeatedly surging forward, deep as possible, fucking Kit with each expansion of pleasure.

Sometime later, it seemed an eternity, or a minute, Kit slumped over his chest with their hot sweat-soaked skin gliding together, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Her breasts labored against his equally deep breathing chest as they gulped air to catch their breath. His prick, still incredibly semi-hard, was embedded in her heat. He tangled his fingers into the damp strands of her short wavy hair. Then he tugged lightly, arching her head backward as he looked down on her.

“This is more than necessity, lass, what we’ve done,” he said. His gaze skimmed her flushed features, then he noticed a bright red burn across her small chin and one cheek. It was his mark. The mark of his beard grazing her softer flesh.

“Will it hurt our cause, Bry? What do we need to do?” Kit asked, with her fingers rising to touch the side of his face.

“I don’t know,” Brynmore answered honestly. His lips fell over Kit’s lips for aftermath passion of immersed kissing or perhaps the slow igniting of renewed ardor. He lifted his lips slightly. “But you will know this time and every time after this that I
want
to be with you.”

“Yes, Bry, yes. Mm mm.” Kit’s voiced was muffled under their renewed kissing. She was not certain what had happened between herself and Brynmore tearing aside any plans or intentions she had for the way it would be. She only knew the feeling inside her was the intense knowledge that she would follow anywhere Brynmore led. To hell and back. And that might be enough.

Chapter Seven

Radford drummed the fingertips of his right hand against the long table set up in Drummond’s small ballroom. He slouched in his chair, his posture one of introspection. “Hmm,” he pondered. “I still do not see how we will gain Brynmore and Kit’s debut entrance into Hellion’s sphere.” Radford liked it best now. This quiet contemplation. His mind could go places his fading eyesight could not.

Nia rustled papers from the end of the table, where she’d been sorting through the daily written reports on all activities that could be seen from a distance, happening day or night, at Lord Rushborn’s estate. Hellion and some members of the cult, plus patrons who were apparently in sympathy here in England, had taken up residence there. There could be one-hundred now that they’d been able to pinpoint, where before, according to Saxon, there had been hundreds.

The patrons from England did not surprise Radford. He assumed they probably traveled abroad and had sampled Hellion’s brand of depravity when they could. If Radford could have picked one member of London nobility that Hellion and his cult might have landed with, it would have been the elder debauchee, Lord Rushborn, with his whispered deviant habits. There was still some speculation bandied about that Lord Rushborn had kidnapped and defiled young virgins in his more sordid youth. Rumor had it he’d had a group of men involved in some underhanded society they’d formed, where they kidnapped and used common women sexually, then paid them handsomely to remain quiet, playing on the women’s poverty to keep them subdued.