Page 59 of A Devil in Silk
“Bloody hell, Clara!”
“What? Isn’t honesty important between lovers?”
“Yes, but at least learn the art of subtlety, unless you mean to put me in an early grave.”
“You want me to play the coquette?” Understanding the manner required of a mistress was rather confounding.
“Of course not. I want you to be yourself.”
Good. She knew exactly what a woman seeking pleasure should do. Slipping Miss Nightshade’s notebook into his coat pocket, she fisted his lapels and pulled him closer, her lips brushing his.
“Then kiss me like you’ll die if you don’t.”
Bentley Sommersby did not disappoint.
He devoured her, as if he truly had seconds left to live, their tongues tangling in a reckless, hungry rhythm.
“Hell, I lose my damn mind when I’m with you.”
His hand found her breast, cupping, caressing, his thumb circling until her nipple tightened beneath the fabric, sending desire spearing through her.
As if he could no longer contain himself, he reached beneath her skirts, bypassing her thighs, seeking the hot, pulsing proof of her want for him.
The first glide of his fingers over her sex stole her breath. Her eyes fluttered closed against the exquisite sensation.
“Shall I tell you what I want my new mistress to do?” His thumb skimmed her folds, avoiding the place that would undo her. “Let’s see if you’ll oblige me.”
“I thought we’d already agreed the answer is yes.”
He pinned her with a gaze hot enough to scorch. “Beg, Clara. Beg me to make you come.”
For a heartbeat, she hesitated. The only time she’d ever begged for anything was the night her father raised the riding crop at Daniel.
But this was different.
She wanted to beg. She needed to turn fear into pleasure.
“Touch me,” she panted, drinking in his handsome features: the chiselled jaw, the perfect dimple, the mouth that held her captive. “Be the only man to make me come, Bentley. Please.”
Something primal flared in his eyes. He kissed her so deeply she forgot where her body ended and his began. Then he moved with sudden purpose, parting her thighs, bunching her skirts higher, his hands cupping her bare bottom as he drew her to the edge of the seat.
“A mistress should expect surprises,” he murmured, before lowering his head between her legs and sealing his mouth over her throbbing bud.
A moan escaped her, echoing in the confines of the carriage. She clutched the leather squab as molten fire streaked through her veins.
He groaned against her flesh, his tongue swirling in relentless circles before flicking in rapid strokes that left her teetering on the brink.
“Oh God … Bentley …” Her own voice sounded ragged. “Don’t stop.”
His fingers slid inside her, stroking the spot that made her buck against his mouth.
“Let me hear you beg,” he rasped, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. “Beg your lover to give you what you need.”
Everything in her tightened and coiled, every nerve alive and quivering.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please, Bentley.”
He sucked harder, fingers pressing deep, and the world exploded behind her eyes as ecstasy crashed through her, fierce and unstoppable.
