“Taste me.” She was halfway to begging, and that cocky half grin touched Lucien’s lips.

“Say that again.”

“Please, Lucien. Taste me.”

Lucien dropped his head, a slow drag of his tongue up the entire length of her sex. Sophie’s stomach twisted as she watched the cream transfer from her body to his tongue. “Better?”

His hand splayed on her stomach. “It’s fucking delicious.”

His thumb massaged the cream into her pubic bone, a whisper away from her clitoris, and when he finally dropped his head and devoured her, the switch from playful to deadly serious had her almost coming on the spot. His tongue and lips were all over her sex. Sucking, lapping, licking her clean.

Sophie dropped back onto the cool tabletop and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks, closer to orgasm with every stroke of his tongue. He pulled her to the edge of the table and unbuckled his trousers, then thrust his sheathed cock inside her without any need for preamble.

Sophie was hot, wet and ready, and he was gloriously hard, fast and filthy. She came almost as soon as he slammed into her, and Lucien came seconds after. It was too intense to last more than that couple of moments, but they were easily the sexiest moments of Sophie’s life.

Lucien threw a log on the fire and settled down alongside Sophie, their backs leaning against the sofa. She was all golden curves and warmth in the amber glow of the flames, one leg folded in front of her, supporting her elbow, the other stretched out so she could wriggle her toes into the sheepskin rug. She’d slipped her knickers back on and half buttoned his shirt over her body after dinner, typical gestures of bashfulness despite the fact that she’d let him screw her senseless on the dining table.

“You okay?” he murmured, twisting a strand of her hair lightly around his finger. She sipped her generous measure of brandy and nodded, eyes fixed on the dancing flames.

“I think so.” Her features were melancholy in profile. “Just sad that this is the end.”

He wasn’t sure if she was referring to their time together or her marriage. Or both. He slipped his hand beneath the weight of her hair to massage the back of her neck.

She tilted her head forward a little to take full advantage of his ministrations, then sighed and rolled her shoulders.

“I just wish I could press the pause button, I’m dreading tomorrow.”

“I’d prefer the rewind button,” Lucien said, pleased by the gentle smile that tilted her lips as he glanced up at the clock. It was a little after ten. “Anyway, we don’t need to leave for a few hours yet, and I’m not planning on sleeping.”

She leaned back and turned to face him. “Thank you for bringing me here, Lucien.” Her eyes were round and serious, and twin pink apples kissed her creamy cheeks. Everything about her spoke of goodness and wholesomeness, which made the erotic kick of unbuttoning her inhibitions all the more addictive.

She glowed, and he basked in it. “You’re welcome any time, Ms. Black.”

Shadows dulled the brightness of her eyes. They both knew she wouldn’t come back here again after tonight. Their worlds were poles apart, and this had only ever been about one week.

All of that could wait for another day, though. Right now he wanted to banish those shadows, and fast.

“The way I see it, we can spend tonight talking, or we can do something else.” He leaned forward and trailed a finger down skin exposed by the deep open V-neck of his shirt. “Personally, I think talking is overrated.”

Her eyelids drifted down and her plump lips parted with a soft sigh. His cock stirred in his jeans. Sophie Black’s unintentional mix of innocence and sultriness was a lethal combination that had him half way to hard every time he looked at her. It was the main reason he’d given her the job, and the whole reason he’d brought her with him on this trip to Norway.

The latest letter from his father had pulled him back here as surely as if he’d yanked on an invisible string, but having Sophie along for the trip had turned it from an instinctive obligation to a very adult pleasure ride.

He leaned in, and her mouth opened like a flower when he covered it with his own. She tasted of honey laced with brandy. The trace of her tongue over his had his hands moving into her hair to draw her closer, to open her mouth wider, to let him drink more deeply.

A tiny sigh of pleasure escaped her throat as she tipped her head back and let him lead her, and he couldn’t resist sliding his hand inside his – now her - shirt to cup the softness of her breast as her tongue slid over his.

Christ, she made his cock ache. Her nipple instantly ripened from velvet soft to a stiff peak when he brushed a slow thumb over it, and he was gratified by the catch in her breathing and the fractional arch of her back. Her body was alive with sensual desire, and he was going to take his sweet time satisfying her tonight.

Sophie felt her breast swell into Lucien’s hand as every fibre in her responded to his touch. His unhurried tongue explored her mouth as his other hand smoothed flat over the back of her hair. He was oh so thorough, and all she could think of was right here, and right now. Indistinct music played in the background; late night, laid back sounds that conjured up hazy images of backstreet Parisian bars.

One by one, he opened her shirt buttons, and she shivered with expectation when he eased it off her shoulders. Naked aside from her knickers, she snaked her arms around him and closed her eyes. When he hauled her over to straddle his lap her breasts flattened against his bare chest, finding him firm and warmed from the fire. His hands swept up her spine to twist into her hair, easing her head back to expose her throat to his trail of open-mouthed kisses. She could feel his erection pressed between her legs, separated only by denim and silk. Hard against soft.

Lucien’s hands ran down Sophie’s spine again to mould her bottom as she conducted her own exploration of his back, committing the smooth planes and taut curves to memory. She couldn’t see it, but she knew that the predatory lone wolf slumbered beneath her hands as she stroked his shoulder blades.

He held her breasts in his hands, then lowered his face to them and breathed in deeply.

Sophie arched, greedy for his mouth all over her, his tongue on her nipples, his five o’clock shadow prickling deliciously against the tender undersides of her breasts.

His hair slipped through her fingers, and when he came back up to claim her mouth, his kiss sent her senses reeling.

“Kiss me all night?” She sank her teeth into the fullness of his bottom lip.