Page 55 of The Love Potion
He couldn’t deny that. But with marriage, she had some protection. As a mistress, she had none. “You must please him in every way. And when he tires of you anyway, he will discard you.”
She nodded. “I know. But then I shall be free to find a new one.”
If her looks were still good. If she were still young. If she knew the slightest bit about seduction. “Do you even know how to please a man? What he wants? What he needs?”
He’d come close as he spoke, towering over her as he tried to impress his words on her. Good God, she had no idea what she was asking, and yet he could see the determination in her eyes. And he knew, damn it, that if she could learn, it might be the best option for her.
“You cannot,” he rasped.
“Not without help,” she said. “I know other people to ask—”
“No!” He did not want to think of who might help her or how they might teach her. He did not want to imagine her married to an old widower or mistress to a depraved wealthy son. The idea that anyone but him could touch her made him insane. He cupped her cheek, the movement abrupt but he made sure his touch was gentle. “No one else,” he said.
She touched his wrist, her eyes wide but still steady. “I must make the best choice I can. My life depends upon it.”
She was right, and yet she was so very wrong. He had no space in his mind to weigh her choices, only a desperate need to see that she was not destroyed by the wrong choice. By the wrong man. By anyone but him.
He kissed her. He pressed his mouth to hers and plundered her in the most possessive way. He thrust into her mouth. He touched every part of her mouth. And then, because he could not be brutal with her, he softened against her. He let her duel sweetly with him.
She raised her hands to his arms, gripping them as she arched into him. His left hand was on her waist, then slid upward to cup her breast. He felt her breath catch at that, and he eased back enough to let her feel what he was doing. Indeed, with her eyes wide and her mouth wet, he gloried in showing her how it should be with a man.
He thumbed her nipple. It was tight as it pressed against her dress, but it was nothing compared to what he could make her feel.
“No one has ever done this to you before, have they?”
She swallowed then shook her head.
“Do you like it?” He already knew the answer, but he knew that her pleasure would be enhanced the more she admitted to the sensations he gave her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“This is how it feels when you want it,” he said. He leaned forward, nuzzling her skin. “Say you want this.”
“I do.”
He pulled back. “Say you want me.”
“You,” she whispered.
He grinned. “Your gown is simple. I can show you more. Do you want—”
“Yes. Please.”
It was a simple matter to open the buttons on the back of her dress and ease the shoulders of her dress down. Unlike Lady Zoe, she did not wear a riding habit. She hadn’t intended to ride, so she wore a light spring gown. When the fabric was lax across her bodice, he untied the ribbon of her shift, and he slipped his hand inside.
Her breast had a nice shape and weight. It was rosy with her heat, and she gasped when he squeezed her nipple. He pinched it again, then rolled it. She grabbed onto the edge of a table as she swayed slightly. Fortunately, she couldn’t raise her arms without ripping her dress. And so he pulled her other breast free.
Then he played, exploring her breasts. He kneaded them, squeezed them, then tugged at her nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut and she dropped her head back. Her breath was unsteady, and he wondered at her balance, but there was a rack behind herthat would support her. Then he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth.
“Oooo,” she moaned. It was a breathy sound of delight, and he loved it.
Her other breast was just as sensitive. Soon she was leaning back against the rack while he did what he willed with her chest. She set a hand on his shoulder and gripped him. He knew the steady rise of her passion by her breath, by her moans, and how tightly she squeezed his shoulder.
Then he kissed his way from her breasts, up her neck, to whisper into her ear. “Have you ever had a quickening?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want one?”
