Page 65 of Untaming Lady Violet
Violet did not understand what came over her when she abruptly sank to her knees. Her hands, still captured within Tristan’s larger ones, rested at his waist. Tilting her head back, she met his startled gaze. The air between them swirled thick and heady, like a garden bursting with fragrant blooms in the warmth of a late spring afternoon.
“Don’t you know, Tristan? I want to be wicked. I want to be wicked with you. For you.”
Untangling their hands, Violet’s fingers rested on the buttons of his trousers. The impressive bulge of his shaft jumped in response.
“Violet,” he growled.
She ignored the desperate warning in his tone. Shifting on her knees only moved her closer. Carefully, she unfastened the trousers’ buttons. As the fabric gaped open, more of his lower abdomen was revealed. There were slabs of muscled flesh there, too, and chiseled, matching grooves defined his hips.
Violet swallowed hard, smoothing her palms over those V-shaped divots.
Where her own body was soft and pleasingly rounded in certain areas, Tristan’s seemed crafted of iron. There was nothing forgiving or tender in the planes and lines of his physique. Realizing that this male perfection was hers to fully explore made her hands shake the slightest bit.
Tugging further on the garment revealed the upper swell of Tristan’s cock.
Her exhaled breath of surprise swept over his flesh. Deep inside her belly, arousal launched another quivering arrow.
Tristan muttered a fierce curse.
“Kitten, if you do not stop, I shall lose control. And for this, I shall need a great deal of control.”
“But I want to see you,” she whispered, gazing up at him through lowered lashes. Her fingers slipped inside the opening of the trousers, encountering crisp hair before gingerly closing around the bulge she found so curious.
Touching Tristan was like nothing she expected. He was so wonderfully warm. And smooth. Velvet-wrapped granite.
In the flickering lamplight, she was shocked when he grew even larger, the length of flesh hardening until it practically throbbed within the circle of her hands.
How extraordinary that I can feel his heartbeat…
A quick peek revealed Tristan’s jaw locked in an unforgiving clench, his eyes closed as if in prayer. One hand hung frozen in the air just above her head, fingers twitching just enough that Violet wondered what his intent might be.
It seemed he wished to slide his fingers through her hair. Maybe caress her cheek, or something similar. Violet wasn’t quite surewhat, but whatever he decided, she would let him.
Distracted by the pulsating shaft within her grasp, her hands began moving in exploration. Up and down. Cupping. Circling. Tracing.
“You are so incredibly… hard, and yet, soft at the same time. I never expected…” Her words trailed off when Tristan let out a guttural groan. Both of his hands abruptly closed into tight fists.
“For fuck’s sake, Violet. Do not do this to me. And do not breathe. Do not move. Do not—”
Violet did not wish to stop, but perhaps she was hurting him. He certainly appeared to be in pain. And if it would help him to touch her while she discovered the mysterious differences between a man and woman’s body, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, everything inside her was screaming that he should place his hands on her once more.
With a small frown, her hands squeezed the hard flesh. “You may touch me, Tristan. I want you to.”
“You will be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand delving into the ruined remains of her once elegant updo. “I swear you are killing me now with your hands around my cock.”
The weight of her hair cascading down her back felt incredibly erotic. While the word he used in describing his member was unfamiliar, Violet immediately recognized its significance. Tristan’s current state was the direct result of her own bold actions.
Is it my inexperience that causes him pain?
As the thought crashed through her brain, Violet instinctively sought to make things better. She would ease Tristan’s discomfort. Offer a small portion of herself in supplication.
In a sweet kiss of apology, her lips delicately brushed the head of his shaft.
Tristan’s hand abruptly tangled in her hair, tightening with such intensity Violet let out a small cry. Pleasure, deep and almost painfully sharp, seized her. The primal thrill shocked her senses.
Then she found herself pulled tighter against his body, held firmly in place between his thighs. Fear swamped her desire. Would he push himself inside her in this manner? Breach the barrier of her teeth with force as lust overtook him?
But Tristan did nothing more. Although his hand trembled, he did not move, perhaps aware he danced far too close to crossing an imaginary line.
