Page 57 of Lord Garson's Bride
She had an inkling that might be true. The girl she’d once been would never treat a man’s body as her personal playground.
“May dear Jane Norris rest in peace,” he intoned solemnly. “And I’ll make sure that Jane Rutherford doesn’t rest at all.”
“So far that’s been true,” she retorted, sliding her fist up the rigid column of flesh and relishing how it swelled in her hold. “You know, we really do need to talk.”
His deep chuckle vibrated in his chest and under her cheek. She loved being close to him like this, wrapped in his warmth and strength. He made her feel that nothing could ever hurt her. “Now?”
“Perhaps later.”
“That’s the right answer.” With gentle insistence, he slid her off his lap and onto the seat. Her legs sprawled across the rich red and blue Turkey carpet.
He kneeled before her and pushed up her skirts, until blue silk and cream lace frothed about her thighs. With an intent expression, he caught her knees and pushed them apart. “You’re blushing.”
Her hands fluttered nervously, before they settled above her breasts. “Perhaps I’m not as wicked as I thought.”
As his gaze fastened on the shadowy space between her legs, unabashed greed curved his mouth. “We’ll soon fix that.”
She guessed he meant to touch her there. He’d done that before, but in the course of making love. Her blush turned to fire. He must be able to see everything. It was difficult to resist covering herself.
Her heart was skittering, and that familiar heavy feeling set up in the pit of her stomach. His scrutiny of her sex made her tremble with need.
Hugh’s smile widened, as he took hold of her legs and tugged her forward. Peignoir and nightdress hitched up, so her bare bottom met the leather sofa. She gave a startled gasp, then another as he bent his head and…kissed her there.
“Hugh!” she cried, lacing one hand in his soft, thick hair.
The intimate contact was over in an instant, but the heat of his lips still sizzled like a lightning bolt. This game between them was new, and she felt uncertain.
“Trust me,” he said softly. He remained so close to her cleft that his breath teased the yearning flesh. “You’ll like it.”
His first kiss hinted that she probably would, but that didn’t make it right. “Do you want to do this?”
When he lifted his head, she met heavy-lidded eyes. She knew that look, too. His answer came as no surprise. “Oh, yes. I’ve wanted this since our first night, but I feared it might shock you.”
“It would. It has.” Her answer sounded more like a husky invitation than a protest.
“Should I stop?”
The week of debauchery hadn’t totally banished her shyness. What he wanted was perverse. No respectable lady would allow it. But the woman who had discovered a world of miraculous pleasure in her husband’s arms was eager for this new adventure.
As the silence extended, she watched disappointment flicker in those rich coffee eyes. He sat back and started to rise. “I ask too much.”
She was incorrigible. The angels must despair of her. She caught his hand before it slid off her bare knee. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
His eyes flared. “Really?”
“Really.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.
Now he had permission, Hugh acted with a purpose that stoked her anticipation. He shoved her nightwear up to reveal her mound. When he placed another kiss, longer this time, on the feathery auburn curls at the apex of her thighs, every hollow in her body turned liquid.
The evocative scent of her need tinged the air, mixing with traces of coffee, fresh rolls, and bacon lingering from breakfast. Jane wondered if she’d feel quite so abandoned doing this by candlelight. Something about bright morning sunlight pouring through the sash windows made Hugh’s intentions seem even more outrageous.
Except as he stroked his hands up and down her pale thighs and lowered his disheveled head between her legs, she moved past amazement to curiosity. When he touched her there, his hands made magic. She couldn’t help wondering what his clever mouth might do.
His tongue traced a hot line along her cleft, making her cry out and bury her hands in his hair. Heat roared through her and made her quake.
He did it again, and this time he lingered to torment the source of her delight. Her belly cramped in ecstasy, and her spine turned to water. She lolled against the couch as her legs splayed on either side of him.
She closed her eyes, so sight couldn’t distract her from the rich symphony of pleasure. Another cascading response, when his tongue penetrated her body. Her hands turned to claws, pulling his hair as she broke through into climax.
