Page 59 of Lord Garson's Bride
“You said ladies don’t…”
“I assumed you’d find the idea utterly revolting. After all, you were delicately reared.”
She crossed her legs and settled beside his hip. “I’m beginning to think I’m not so delicate after all. Do you mind?”
When he rolled his eyes, she wanted to laugh. “What do you think?”
She frowned. “So you’re saying you’d like me to kiss you…there?”
“If you can bear it.”
A smile curled her lips. “Actually I find the idea…intriguing.”
Hugh surged up and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her hard and long. By the time he finally lifted his head, she wasdizzy. “I don’t deserve you, Jane. The day you married me, you turned me into the luckiest cove in England.”
She stared up into his brilliant eyes and saw he meant it. How odd. How unexpected. How wonderful. “Even after I put you through all that torture in Salisbury?”
His lips twitched, and he kissed her quickly. Jane’s wits had just started to settle. Now they were in a spin again.
“If you take me in your mouth, I’ll forgive you anything.”
Jane laughed at his outrageousness, even as a deep well of feminine longing softened her insides. He wanted her to pleasure him like this, she couldn’t doubt it. She ran one hand along his jaw, feeling the smooth skin. He’d shaved before breakfast. When he’d turned to her in the dawn, his whiskers had added a bristly spice to his kisses.
She squirmed out of his hold and inched down his body, pausing on the way to kiss his hair-roughened chest. “I’ll remember that.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Surely Garson must be dreaming when his fastidious wife stared at his dick as though it was indeed a famous monument. Despite his lurid fantasies, he’d never imagined Jane would be bold enough to perform this brazen act.
He’d been hard for what felt like hours. Dear God, she had him in a perpetual fever, even before this latest offer to rocket him to heaven. He’d expected his hunger to lose its edge, once he’d possessed her. But ever since that astonishing night of transcendent passion in Salisbury, his appetite had only increased with feeding. He became a complete satyr. Jane just had to look at him sideways, and he was ready to jump on her.
When he’d called himself the luckiest cove in England, he hadn’t exaggerated. Hell, right now, he felt like the luckiest cove in the whole world. He wouldn’t change places with the King himself.
Partly to combat the temptation to grab her, he stretched out flat and folded his arms behind his head. Protracted and excruciating torture lay ahead.
He could hardly wait.
Tentatively, she reached out to curl her fingers around his aching cock. The blast of heat that jolted him almost made him explode, and he bit back a groan. Over the last week,she’d become less shy about touching him, but he always sent blasphemous thanks to heaven when she stroked him like this.
Her expression was solemn, as if she solved some intellectual problem. The pretty blue nightdress and peignoir floated around her, adding a tantalizing touch of modesty. He loved her naked, but there was something delicious about the promise of nakedness to come.
Determination lit her silvery eyes, and she shifted to straddle his legs. Then with a languor that promised to shatter him, she leaned forward. A curtain of glossy auburn tumbled forward. Her loose garments gaped at the neck, providing heart-stopping glimpses of her lovely breasts.
This was the first time Jane had taken the lead. She was an eager participant in everything they did—even if sometimes he had to coax her into playing—but she let him set the agenda. Not this time. The change in their roles fed his excitement.
Anticipation flooded him, as he waited in an agony of suspense for what she did next.
What she did next threatened to blast him into a pile of smoking ashes.
Slowly, so slowly he could hardly endure it, she lowered her head. His cock jerked when the humid heat of her breath drifted across the sensitive head. She glanced up, a flash of bright silver that sliced through him like a blade. Then soft pink lips brushed the tip.
“Hell’s bells.” Surely his very blood must boil away to nothing.
She kissed him again, then every angel in heaven sang hallelujah when she dipped to take him into her mouth. A fusillade of responses zapped through him, turning him to stone. The hardest part of all basked in wet, sultry heat. The craving to raise his hips, make her take more, was nigh irresistible. Where would his beautiful wife lead him, now he let her steer the course of this encounter?
She flicked her tongue against him and tightened her grip. Then stopped and raised her head. He grabbed the headboard with shaking hands to save himself from seizing her and pushing her down. She was going to kill him.
“Don’t stop,” he choked out.
