Beatrice pov When he finally rose he lifted me like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bed and laying me down on the thick furs. He stripped off his own clothes without hurry, every movement measured, letting me watch the play of firelight over his broad shoulders, the scars on his chest, the hard lines of his stomach.He settled between my thighs, not entering me yet. Instead he kissed his way down my body—slow, open-mouthed kisses over my breasts, lingering to draw each nipple into his mouth and suck gently until I arched and whimpered. Lower still, across my ribs, over the curve of my hip, until his mouth hovered between my legs.He looked up at me, eyes dark with love and hunger. “Let me taste you first.”I nodded, breathless. He parted me with gentle thumbs, then lowered his head. The first slow lick made me gasp—long and flat, from entrance to clit, gathering every drop of wetness. He groaned against me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Then he did it again, an
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