Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 235

Chapter 235: Painting

"Kiss me," he breathed thickly.

Belle did not hesitate, she moved forward and pressed her mouth to his. She then tentatively wrapped her arms around him, the gauzy drape coming around his neck.

She tasted like warm honey as she kissed him, an incredible sweetness that made him press himself against her, knowing well enough he might not get the chance to do this again in weeks.

Rohan recognized her growing arousal as she pressed herself into him, but it wasn’t about his own pleasure this time. He needed to bring that flushed, hungry look to her eyes, the one he longed to capture on canvas.

He slid his broad knee between her legs, coaxing her forward with a deep, lingering kiss. Then, gripping her gently but firmly by the buttocks, he boosted her up until she trustingly straddled his thigh. When their eyes met in that position, it felt like a slowly rising fire, burning even hotter between them.

Rohan loosened his hold just enough to allow her to slide against the firm, unyielding muscle of his thigh. She looked startled at first as hot desire curled inside her body, but then a soft, breathy sound escaped her lips as her hips instinctively moved in response.

He kept his hands resting lightly on her hips, guiding her into a slow, sensual rhythm, rocking her against the solid strength of his leg—teaching her to pleasure herself, to find her own rhythm.

Her sweet, intoxicating scent surrounded him as she moved against him, and he kissed her again, then leaned back into the couch he now sat on, letting her ride his thigh. Her slick, swollen cleft pressed against the fabric of his trousers, damp and aching with desire, and the sensation of friction made her gasp.

Belle instinctively scraped back and forth across his leg, a familiar, rising pleasure unfurling in her belly, driving her to continue. The feeling reminded her of the exquisite way his sinful fingers slid inside her, coaxing and teasing her toward the edge. Her breath quickened, cheeks flushed and damp with sweat as her thighs trembled around him.

Rohan realized she’d never pleasured herself before in anyway, never touched herself like this, never taken control of her own rising desire. It made her even more innocent.

He steadied her hips when she faltered, guiding her motion so she didn’t lose her rhythm. Her head fell back with a quiet moan, hair trickling down her neck to brush her bare, bouncing breasts, and her parted lips whispered his name.

"Rohan..." she breathed. "Why... does it feel so good?"

It felt good because her body was hypersensitive, every little touch magnified by arousal. The pressure of fabric against her bare, swollen folds, the friction against his thigh, the heat between them, it was all too much and yet just enough to give her pleasure.

He liked how she rose under his touch, her eyes softening in delight.

She looked more alluring than ever in this state, giving in to desire. He loved how she smelled, how she tasted, the sound of her breathy sighs, the warmth of her body beneath his hands.

It thrilled him that he could sit in a room, fully dressed, and drive his wife wild with need. He liked the power of it, the joy of watching her eyes widen and hearing her gasps melt into frenzied cries of pleasure.

Then, when she came with a soft cry, he gently set her aside on the couch and rose to his feet.

Her eyes were still hazy with lust as she looked up at him, flushed and panting. He leaned down and carefully adjusted her body on the couch. One leg he stretched along the cushions, the other he bent at the knee, leaving her hips open and inviting. He positioned her back to rest against the arm of the couch, sliding a cushion beneath to support her.

She was still watching him, struggling to catch her breath, her face glowing with heat from what she’d just done. Rohan smiled at her, then took her hand and placed it low on her swollen stomach, just beneath her breast. He guided the other to rest bent and lifted beside her head, fingers curling inwards.

She looked like a seductive goddess in that pose, flushed, open, heavy with his child. And it took everything in Rohan’s power not to strip off his clothes and take her right there, to bury himself inside her and worship her until she screamed his name.

But he restrained himself. He forced down the aching hunger in his veins, then wordlessly turned and walked to the arrangement he had prepared near the window.

He sat down on the stool, picked up his first brush, and began to paint her with steady fingers that moved with an inhuman speed across the canvas.

"Are you comfortable, my love?" he questioned not pausing his hand movements, looking at her from behind the canvas, where he could see her from the top of it, as he was taller than the canvas even while sitting.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify