Page 84 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Masculine fingers burned on cool skin, stroking her leg as he deepened their kiss. His tongue touched hers, languid and soft. This was searching and need. Kindred souls locked together. His other hand grasped her arm, and she waxed tender and erotic at the same time.
Heart banging, she broke away. Reds and golds glinted among darker hairs in his whiskers. She wanted to rub her palm along his jaw, but her leaden limbs refused movement. Those talented fingers of his kneaded her thigh…each stroke possessive and knowing. Her toes curled into the chair’s seat cushion. Her husband teased her inner thigh, his fingers stroking close to her exposed flesh, then skimming lightly to her knee. Anticipation was agonizing and sweet.
New wetness trickled between her legs. Her hips rocked into him. “Please,” she begged, her eyelids fluttering low.
Her lungs could be in a vise grip. This wasn’t good. He’d hardly done anything and—
“Eeehhh…” She whimpered, a mewling sound, high-pitched, another one building deep inside her, rising up her torso. “Mar…eeehhh…” Her mouth opened wider. She clutched her shift, a wave of bliss shuddering her body.
Oh dear. She was in trouble.
Apetite mortspasmed sweetly between her legs, and he hadn’t even touched the typical places men counted on to prime a woman. She opened her eyes. A salacious smile spread on his face, a man ready to take a bite of what she offered.
Definite trouble.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit,Wife?” His hand reverently brushed feminine curls, just missing the hot nubbin of flesh peeking at the top of her cleft.
The hearth’s blaze snapped. Sharp points of light reflected off his coat’s metal buttons. Bracing a hand on the chair, she tried to think, tried to answer, but couldn’t. He took his sweet time, grazing her bush, his hand light and careful.
Little by little, his palm increased pressure.
Teasing her. Playing with her.
Until—finally—he rubbed her mons.
The pleasure shocked her. She groaned loudly.
His lips brushed her forehead. “I’ll ask again. Why have you come to me now?”
Fingernails digging into her shift, she lifted the hem higher. Her body gyrated with need, the coil burning everywhere. “I want…I want you to make me…for-get.”
His satyr’s grin split wide. “You mean you want to use me. For sex.”
Expert fingers teased her quim’s outer fold, careful not to slip inside. More heat pricked her skin. Her breath came in starts and stops, stirring his neckcloth.
“For one night.”
A deep chuckle rumbled as his hand kept up the assault. “One night only?”
The aggravating man knew what he was doing. He denied her, touching and teasing, avoiding her sensitive inner folds. She scrunched the shift under her chin, taking an eyeful of Lord Bowles stroking her springy curls.
Orange and yellow flames illuminated her skin. Hot, mellow pressure built, bringing slickness and desire to private places. Featherlight touches skimmed deeper between her legs. He stroked her quim’s outer folds and her thighs, strumming away her life’s pain. The unnerving sense of her body blending into his consumed her, and they’d barely begun.
This wasn’t good.
She grabbed her husband’s busy hand. He smelled of brandy and sex, and his hazel eyes promised sweet seduction. “We both know you’re not long for this place,” she said, planting her foot on the floor. “I’ll move on too, I imagine.”
Fierce protectiveness flashed in his eyes. “When it’s safe.”
A man looking out for her… She couldn’t fathom it. She raised his hand and kissed his palm. “You make me feel safe.”
He groaned, staring hard at her mouth on his hand. Good. It was his turn to feel agonized lust. His bulging placket brushed against her. Hands and legs bumped. Together, they yanked the shift over her head. Lord Bowles snatched the flimsy garment and let it fall.
His eyes feasted on her body. “You drive me to distraction, yet I find I want to devour you. Slowly. One taste at a time if I can.”
He pinned her to the wall and kissed her hard. His hands tangled in her hair. Metal buttons pressed against her ribs. Breasts mashed into his wool-covered chest. Openmouthed, his lips grazed her jaw, her chin, seeking more skin to taste. Whiskers scraped her skin as he made a path of searing kisses down the center of her body.
Down her breastbone. Down her navel. Down he went on bended knee, kissing lower.
