Free The Price of Pleasure by Connie Mason

splayed to clasp her woman’s mound, delving into the dewy cleft of her sex. Fleur drew a sharp breath, her body stiffening.
    “Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured.
    His husky whisper soothed her, coaxing her restless, needy body to soften even though the clamoring in her blood didn’t want to wait. She burned beneath his touch, her nipples aching points of flame. She lifted her hips in silent supplication as he parted the quivering silky folds of her flesh with his fingers.
    Fleur mewed softly as his fingers grew bolder, exploring her slick flesh with tender strokes, sliding inside her, probing. His fingers came away wet with her dew; he held them up for her inspection.
    Her lips quivered with embarrassment. This was different from anything she’d experienced with Pierre. This was titillating, naughty, wicked. “Reed, please hurry.”
    Reed merely looked at her and flashed his dimple. His grin was a heady elixir. It flowed through her blood like molten honey. Instinctively she knew that Reed was an experienced lover, a rogue who lived to love and please women.
    “We’re not even half done yet, Fleur. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman, and I want to savor the experience. For a time I feared I had lost desire forever, but then you proved me wrong.”
    The words had scarcely left his mouth when he scooted down her body, pressing kisses against her navel. His tongue parted the thatch of hair between her thighs, searching for the tiny hooded bud nestled there. She felt the rough pad of his tongue flick out, stroking the dewy cleft between her thighs. He licked the hidden bud. She arched up into his mouth, crying out his name.
    “Reed, stop! This is far too intimate. I cannot bear it.”
    Reed lifted his head. “Did Pierre not love you in this way?”
    She shook her head. “I would not allow it.”
    Reed blinked. “Why not?”
    “The intimacy of it . . . was . . . too much.”
    “Not if you loved him.”
    Reed’s words hung in the air as he returned his attention to the sensitive flesh between Fleur’s thighs. Fleur’s moans grew progressively louder as Reed used his mouth and tongue to arouse her to heights never before reached. She felt her tender flesh swell, then burn beneath the relentless lapping of his tongue.
    Suddenly she was writhing with frantic need, straining toward a frenzied explosion. She sobbed, clutching mindlessly at him, the world around her shattering. With an abandoned cry, she surged against his mouth.
    Stretching up, Reed’s arms came around her to hold her trembling body as rapture claimed her.
    Throbbing with the urgent need to possess the hot, aroused woman in his arms, Reed wanted very much to plunge into her softness, claiming her in the most primitive way. He watched her face as she climbed down from the heights of pleasure. He wanted desperately to feel her hands upon his body.
    “Touch me, Fleur. Feel how hard I am for you.”
    Deliberately he drew her palm over his flat belly, pressing her fingers against his throbbing sex. Her fingers curled around him. He jerked violently, pushing himself into her palm. The pleasure was almost more than he could bear. He needed to be inside her.
    Now!
    He spread her thighs, settled into the cradle of her hips and thrust forward. He entered her smoothly, seating his staff fully. He felt her muscles squeeze him and found heaven. He withdrew almost completely, intending to drive forward again, but Fleur must have mistaken his intention.
    She grasped his hips and cried, “No, don’t leave me!”
    “I won’t,” he vowed hoarsely.
    Even as he spoke, her hips tilted up, giving him better access. Groaning, he moved forward and inward, going deeper, driving harder, faster.
    Fleur tensed, holding her breath. Then Reed settled his lips over hers; she tasted her scent on his mouth, a taste both shocking and arousing. Her hands clutched the broad shoulders of the man straining above her, her loins rising to meet his. She felt his body tense