Read To Bed a Libertine for Free Online

nipple, then soothed it with the tip of his tongue. “Do you want me?” he repeated.
    “Yes!” she whispered. “By Zeus, yes. More than anything.”
    His mouth came back to hers in a sizzling kiss, and she felt his hand reach between them to unfasten his breeches, freeing his penis from its confines. With a twist of his hips, he slid deep inside of her.
    Erato pressed herself down onto him, crying out at the wondrous pleasure of fullness and friction. She clutched at his sweat-damp shoulders, closing her eyes again to feel it all even more vividly. She could hear his every breath, the pounding of his heartbeat in rhythm with hers.
    They found their pattern quickly, their bodies moving together perfectly as they slid apart and together again, plunging deeply. Deeper, faster.
    “Hold on to me,” he muttered.
    She tightened her legs around his hips, her hands on his shoulders as he stood up. He swung her around until they fell to the chaise, still wrapped around each other. She slidher legs higher around his waist and felt him thrust even deeper, their bodies pressing together.
    “ Ikanopoio, prosfero eycharistisi! ” she cried. She pushed her hands under his shirt, tracing the groove of his spine, the shift and flex of his muscles as he moved faster and faster. She arched up against him; even then he was not quite close enough. She wanted to be a part of him, make him a part of her so they could never be parted. She had waited so long to find him, had thought he could never exist—her perfect man. Now he was here, with her, inside of her.
    How could she ever let him go?
    Deep down, she felt that hot pressure growing, expanding through her whole body. Sparks danced over her skin, burning, consuming, yet bringing the most intense delight. All coherent thought fled, and she could only feel .
    “Tristan,” she gasped, her back arching. “ Ikanopoio! ”
    “Yes, my love,” he answered, his voice tight. “I’m here.” He buried his face against her shoulder as she felt his own climax seize him. His whole body was taut along hers. He shouted out, the fierce, primitive sound muffled against her.
    Then he collapsed beside her, their arms and legs entangled. Erato slowly floated back down into herself, and she could feel his weight pressed against her side, the heat of his body and the cool air around them. Outside the windows it was dark now, night closing in around them.
    She slowly sat up, and made herself breathe deeply until she could think in a semi-coherent fashion again. Tristan rolled onto his back, his eyes shadowed as he watched her remove her rumpled chemise and her black silk stockings. She tossed them aside and lay back down beside him, naked and tired.
    They were pressed very close on the narrow chaise, and she could feel his long, lean body full against hers. He propped himself on his elbow to gaze down at her in the dying light, his eyes slowly moving from the tips of her toes to the wild tangle of her hair.
    It felt as if he touched her at each place he lingered, as if he caressed every curve and angle of her body. She suddenly felt strangely shy. At least that was how she thought she felt; goddesses never had occasion to be shy.
    “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice deep and full of wonder. And that shyness vanished.
    “And you are overdressed,” she answered, toying with the wrinkled, ruined fabric of his shirt. She pushed it over his head and tossed it away to join her own clothes on the floor.
    It was now her turn to look. She pressed against his bare chest until he lay flat, and she leaned over him to trace light, caressing patterns over his bare skin. He was that gleaming olive-bronze color here, too, the smoothness of his muscles roughened by a sprinkling of brown hair. He was so warm and handsome, young and alive.
    She bent her head to kiss him just above his navel, and the gaping fastenings of his breeches. He tasted salty-sweet, of sweat and their essences mingled together. It was