Page 122 of To Catch a Viscount

She bit her lower lip and nodded, incapable of anything more.

“Hmm?” He licked her, and Marcia gasped, lifting her hips into his tongue.

“Andrew!” she cried out again.

“Tell me, Marcia. I need to hear you say it,” he demanded on a harsh whisper.

“I like this,” she said with a gasp. Nay, that wasn’t sincere or true. “I love it.”

With a smile full of raw, primitive male satisfaction, he claimed her with his mouth once more.

Andrew had been with any number of women in his life.

None of them had been innocent.

And none of them had been Marcia.

After this morning, he’d feared that everything would be different between them.

And it was.

In the best possible way.

She was on fire. And he was on fire for her.

She was also close. He felt it in the way her slender body shivered and trembled and in the way she tensed her hips.

And he wanted to give her that greatest of pleasures her body cried out for. He flicked his tongue back and forth repeatedly, alternately suckling that nub and then moving his tongue in and out of her sodden channel.

“You are so wet,” he praised between each kiss. He stroked his palms along her long, slender limbs, contoured with muscles from her years of riding.

She whimpered and turned her face towards the wall.

“Look at me, Marcia,” he commanded. “There is no shame in this. And certainly not between us. Ever.” He held her eyes with his.

Marcia slowly nodded and then arched her hips up, urging him on.

Andrew returned to pleasuring her with his mouth, wanting to drown in the musky scent of her desire. He tortured himself for several moments longer with the taste and feel of her, and then he made himself stop.

Marcia cried out.

Sweat beading his brow, Andrew yanked off his shirt and shucked out of his trousers. Scrambling atop the billiards table, he carried her frame more to the middle and then lay between her legs.

She let them splay wide as he settled himself there.

Slowly, he slid his shaft inside. She was so fucking wet. Drenched with her desire, he was reduced for a moment to the green boy he’d once been, impatient and needing to take her, but he fought to keep from claiming her immediately.

Forcing himself to go slow—because this was Marcia, because this was her first time—he moved with an agonizing slowness, stretching her tight channel with his shaft.

Andrew tamped down a groan.

She was so tight. She fit him like a damned glove, and he’d never felt such a blissful sensation as this.

She whimpered, and he immediately stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“Only when you stop,” she whispered, and wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tightly, encouraging him to continue.

Andrew groaned, the sound a low, desperate rumble, and reaching between them, he teased her with his fingers even as he remained frozen, partially sheathed. He was determined to raise her desire to a fever pitch.

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