Page 47 of Courting Trouble
She yanked her wrist from his grasp before stepping in to stretch her body against his, like a cat demanding affection. Her hand lowered to shape against the cock pulsing beneath his trousers, stealing any available oxygen from his lungs.
“Be as angry as you want to be, Titus,” she murmured against his ear. “Unleash it. I can bear your fury, but not your distance. I can take all of you.”
With her husky permission, the rest of his control crumbled.
Her mouth was already waiting when he descended upon her with all the mercy of a wild, ravenous beast. Her body jerked as he yanked at the ties of her corset and drew it off, flinging it into the ether. He no longer knew where they were or what time it was or why they should not be doing this.
Only his body existed, and hers. They could have been Adam and Eve, every other living soul something they’d dreamed, a fabrication of their loneliness. Of their undeniable need for each other.
His lust became a ravenous, gnawing creature, hungry only to taste her. Every place she was pale and soft. Every place she was peach and delicate.
This fire between them could only be doused by a flood.
And he would make certain she was good and wet.
You’ll forget them,he silently vowed.Any other man who has had you. You’ll forget them all.
He’d always been grateful to those few women who’d been tenacious enough to entice him to enjoy the attentions they generously offered and passion they freely shared. But they’d already faded from his memory now that Nora had returned to his embrace.
His shirt only made it down to his elbows before she pushed him backward with surprising strength. He controlled his fall to the chaise, and gripped her ass as she sank with him, splitting her legs over his lap.
His hands rucked up her skirts, wading through petticoats until he found the smooth shape of her thigh, right above her knee.
This was how they would do this, the only way to protect her shoulder from discomfort or pressing up against a surface.
His body reacted with a surge of urgency and anticipation. He knew how much this woman loved to ride.
How damned good she was at it.
Beneath her thin summer chemise, the dusky tips of her breasts swayed in front of him, pebbled with arousal and need. He kissed one, then the other, breathing a hot swath through the fabric and thrilling in the delighted sounds that elicited from her throat.
Meanwhile, his hands charted a wicked path up her thighs, stopping to tease at her garters, at the little ribbons of her drawers, plucking the one that would bare her to his touch.
They each gasped in a breath as his fingers stroked through the soft intimate hair. The heated ruffles of feminine flesh were liquid silk, molten in primitive forges.
He familiarized himself with the shape of her, marveling at the differences in their textures here. Where he was velvet skin over stone and steel, she was pliant petals and softness, yielding to his touch, to his intrusion. He tested the entrance to her body and found nothing but welcoming flesh, pulsing as if to draw him deeper inside.
“Now,” she groaned, bending to press tight, needful kisses to his temples, his eyes, his cheekbones and finally, his lips. “There will be time for that,” she vowed. “For all of it. But I can’t live another moment without you inside me.”
He could have tormented her by denying her. He wanted to. To refute her control, at the very least. To display his displeasure and his dominance. He could take his time and tease her to the edges of her own capacity.
But who was he fooling? In what world could he deny her anything?
A sigh of relief caught in his throat as he freed himself from the placket of his trousers and guided his sex toward hers.
Their eyes met, and he gloried in the connection, wanting to watch her every expression.
The intimacy seemed to overwhelm her, and she leaned in to press her temple against his, even as she lifted on trembling legs to guide the crown of his cock inside her body.
He grasped the sweet curve of her backside, stabilizing her descent with his strength as he thrust up and into her.
She gasped and wriggled a few agonizing times to accommodate him, her fingers turning to claws on his shoulders, kneading like a cat.
He was the sort of man that allowed a woman time to acquaint herself to his incursion. To kiss and cuddle and distract her from any discomfort she would feel.
But Nora didn’t leave space for all of that. She made harsh, demanding, needful sounds that must have been words before they melted from her mouth.
Titus knew this language. Understood what she wanted.
