Page 64 of Becoming Lady Dalton
“I trust you’ll warm me,” Viola chuckled softly as she backed toward the bed. The soft silk slid down over her shoulders, a pale backdrop for the dark hair that dangled to her waist. She climbed onto the bed and knelt, facing him, her eyes hooded with desire and her lower lip glossy from his kiss.
Piers let her watch as he unhurriedly slid buttons through the holes in his waistcoat. It loosened, and he dropped it to the floor. He repeated the process with his shirt, drinking in the way Viola devoured him with her eyes. The sheer pleasure of not having to rush, or keep a secret, brought him right to the edge. He paused and fought for control of his body.
“Now the trousers, Piers. Don’t leave me waiting.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
For once, she didn’t protest the appellation. He kicked his trousers away and strode to the bed in his smallclothes.
“You appear to have the advantage of me.” Viola gasped as Piers pressed her back against the counterpane. “Allow me to even the score.”
“In a moment,” he replied lazily, batting her eager hands away from the waistband.
Piers nibbled his way down the curve of her neck. Viola sighed beneath him. When he paused to trace the hollow of her throat with his tongue, she gasped. By the time he reached her tight nipples, she clutched the strands at the nape of his neck in a desperate scrabble.
He sucked one sensitive bead between his teeth. Viola arched upward. Piers grinned and palmed the other breast into a tight peak before lavishing it with the same treatment. Back and forth. Tasting. Teasing. Viola rolled to meet him.
“Aren’t you going to ... get on with it?” she panted after a while.
“Are you in a hurry?” he demanded.
“No. It’s that ... I’ve never…”
Piers propped his body over hers with his arms on either side of her head. Viola peered up at him with wide, questioning, eyes. She twined one leg around his calf.
“You don’t know what pleasure is like?” he prompted.
Viola made a dismissive sound. “Don’t be daft. I know what I like and can do it for myself. I’ve never been with a man who…”
She hesitated again, unwilling to speak ill of her husband, or so Piers guessed. His heart ached for the bleakness of her life. No wonder she grasped for any hint of pleasure or beauty she could; until a few months ago, her life had been one of stoic fortitude.
“I can. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever wished a man would do to you?” Piers murmured into her neck. Viola smelled so good. Like freshly washed linen and wanton woman.
“I’ve dreamed of being kissed.”
“We have been kissing, love,” he whispered as he nibbled her earlobe. Strands of her hair tickled his face. If she wanted what he thought she was asking for, it was prelude. Piers’ cock went rock-hard.
“I mean, down below.”
“Mmm.”
“Between my legs, Piers.”
“I understood, darling.”
He took his time, thoroughly enjoying every squirm and pant as he searched out the sensitive spots around her breasts—where he paused for an extra moment to torture them both—and flicked his tongue into the hollow of her navel. Viola’s legs parted for him, revealing the glistening pink of her sex.
“Darling, you are so beautiful,” he rasped, tracing her outline with one fingertip. Viola writhed.
“Are you down there to paint a picture?” she demanded greedily, though, Piers heard her nervous excitement through the bravado.
“Of a sort,” he chuckled.
He touched his tongue to the pearl at the tip of her sex and licked, just as he’d done to her puckered nipples. Viola writhed and fisted the sheets. Slowly, he traced a circle around the tight hood, eliciting a moan.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
Piers slipped a finger into her slick passage. Viola grabbed his hair as though to push him against her sex.
