#serlock

Your wish is my belated command! This is short but I think it’s just delightful, and I hope you do too.

Her Devilish Prince -And once again, her devilish prince leads her astray to their own private heaven…

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She was intoxicated by the feel of his arms around her, his lips on her neck, by the scent of her man. She couldn’t describe the scent, not really. It was a mixture of moderately well-priced cologne, random chemicals from his experiments, occasionally smoke from cigarettes and then an underlying scent of musk and…him. Sherlock.

Her Sherlock.

She had been trying to bake something for the party that Sally was having tomorrow for Greg’s birthday, devil’s food cupcakes with homemade cherry pie filling in the center and topped with a white chocolate frosting. And then her own personal devil had come in and tried to filch one. He was worse than his brother! It had been a bit of a tussle but the cupcake stayed on the worktop and she ended up in his arms and…

Nibbling on her earlobe, hot breath on her neck, hand inching up her spine and bringing her shirt with it…

Bloody hell, she loved this man, but she was not about to shag him in the kitchen.

She managed to squirm out of his grasp and he pouted. He actually pouted! But she felt herself smiling wickedly and reaching for the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up and tossing it to the side, and the look of hunger in his eyes made her realize that, to him, she was his own angel leading him down to temptation. What she really was trying to do was lead him to the bedroom, but she knew when he took those long strides to her and captured her lips with his the table would be where they ended up.

So be it. She could wipe it down later.

He picked her up and set her on the table, and she was glad for once she’d worn a skirt to work because she was almost afraid he’d rip the button off her trousers like he had the last time he’d been like this. Skirt up, and she lifted her arse up for just a moment so he could pull her knickers down her legs.

She’d have given him more time to get them off her completely but she needed to touch him in all the intimate ways that mattered.

Button, zipper, cock in her hand as soon as she pushed his trousers down his hips a bit. The man never wore pants, bless him, and he groaned when she wrapped her hand around him and stroked, wanting him at more than half mast as soon as possible.

Retaliation ensued, long lithe fingers teasing her, pleasing her. In and out, pumping in rhythm, but she wanted more than his fingers, though they were working magic. She wanted to be filled by him, have him inside her more than anything else right now.

She moaned his name as he brought her closer to orgasm but he stopped short, pulling her just to the edge of the table, like the edge of the orgasm he’d left her on, and filled her with one stroke. She knew there would be no more foreplay or teasing; it would be more like rutting than anything else but oh, it felt good. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist and used it to leverage herself up a bit. He wouldn’t fall; they had done this before. Wall was better, of course, but he dug his fingers into her hips and kept her close.

And then it was over; she moaned into his mouth as she came and soon she felt him have his release. There would be wetness between her legs, a bit of a mess to clean up, but showers were best shared and…

‘Let’s hang out!’