Page 48 of Pursuing Lord Pascal
Soon he’d have to settle their future, persuade her to marry him, perhaps even confess what lay in his heart. But not now. Now pleasure and a beautiful, ardent woman awaited.
He shifted behind her and rubbed luxuriously against her buttocks, holding her upper arms in a caressing grip. “I commend your bold spirit, my love.”
She swayed back, and he turned his face into the soft mass of her hair. She never reacted to his endearments. But then, why should she? He’d called so many women his darling and his sweetheart, and meant nothing special.
Sometimes, God forgive him, an endearment hid that he’d forgotten a lover’s name. With Amy, though, he meant every tender word—and he paid the price for his thoughtlessness, because the one woman who should believe him didn’t notice.
“You’ve made me brave,” she murmured. “Let me go, so I can get onto the desk.”
Pascal smiled with salacious expectation into her silky hair. “Oh, no, my dear. That’s not how we’re going to manage this.”
He felt her sudden tension. “Gervaise?”
“You’ll like this. I’d wager another diamond bracelet on it.”
He ran his hands down her arms. The oh, so proper satin gloves—well, apart from that vivid red—added extra spice to what he intended. Like stockings on an otherwise naked woman.
He bumped his hips forward, coaxing Amy closer to the desk. Then he stretched her hands across the desk’s leather top and flattened them under his. By the time he bent over her, pressing her down, she was trembling.
She guessed his plans now. But then, she was a clever woman.
For a long moment, he paused, his body crushed into the long line of hers and his nose buried in her hair. Her scent, redolent with arousal, was the air he breathed. Her unsteady gasps betrayed uncertainty and excitement.
He kissed the side of her neck. She pushed back in silent invitation.
Fumbling, he released his trousers. Once his cock sprang free to nestle in the tumbling red skirts, he grunted with relief. When she edged back more insistently, he shuddered and bit her neck. She gave a soft cry.
He squeezed her breast, luxuriating in its softness. Then unable to bear the barrier between his hand and her skin, he dipped his fingers under her bodice and found her nipple. Hard and tight with arousal. He tugged on the peak, and she jerked delightfully. With his nail, he teased that sensitive tip until she was shaking.
Only then did he reach down to raise her skirts, bunching them in his hand before tossing them up. When she began to straighten, he placed a hand flat on her lower back. “No. Stay there.”
She swung her head to send him a scorching look. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Never.”
What a glorious spectacle she made. Amy Mowbray with her splendid arse in the air. His cock swelled, as his hand traced those luscious curves through her sheer drawers.
A few deft flicks of his fingers, and the cambric crumpled down to drift across her red silk dancing slippers.
“Step out of your drawers,” he murmured, bending to place a kiss on one round, satiny cheek, now bare to his sight.
She obeyed immediately and spread her legs. For a long moment, he stared down at her, so pink and glistening and ready. He slid his fingers along her sleek cleft, swiftly finding theplace that made her quiver and cry out. When she lifted her hips in silent entreaty, he angled her to take him.
Steadying her with one hand, he positioned his cock with the other. Her choked sound of longing spurred him on. With a powerful glide, he pushed forward.
Chapter Fourteen
When Gervaise filled her, Amy muffled a cry and pushed back to take him deeper. He bent over her, wrapping his arms around her with such tender care that her heart clenched into an aching fist. Even while her body tightened around him to hold him inside her.
She’d been sure nothing could rival the bliss of what they did in that big bed in his manor. But this exciting variation suggested there were many paths to paradise. What didn’t change was the sense that when their bodies joined, somehow their souls joined, too. She’d come to thirst after that feeling of ineffable completion like a drunkard thirsted after brandy.
When Gervaise kissed her neck, a tingly thrill shook her. Then with a languor that sent her up in flames, he withdrew. She felt every inch of that retreat. Before she could catch her breath, he slammed back into her.
As his ferocious possession shuddered through her, she braced against the desk. This was so different from their previous encounters, but the raw animal vigor stirred her beyond anything she’d ever known.
On his next thrust, her body greeted him with a liquid surge. He growled deep in his throat and bit her neck where before he’d kissed her. Pain vied with pleasure and sent her responsessoaring. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to a universe of passion.
The inexorable rhythm built until she turned into his creature, a being of pure sensation. The rapturous end rushed closer and closer, until on another broken cry, coiling suspense snapped into brilliant, incandescent light.
