Page 37 of Wicked Again
Marissa swayed on her feet, skirts twisting in her fingers. “I was under the impression—you weren’t interested in—” Her breath caught as he sunk another finger inside her. “Me.”
“Ineversaid that, Marissa.” His thumb flicked against her until she whimpered with need. “YouassumedI didn’t want you.” The pressure increased. “I only said your objections were exhausting.” Haddon nipped at her bottom lip. “Which they are.”
“But—”
“I’ve two questions.” His tongue returned to her mouth, running along her lower lip.
“Yes?” she said in a shaky voice. Pleasure spiraled up inside her, tightening into a small knot. Unbearably close. She strained toward it, her legs trembling as she struggled to stay upright.
“Are your servants discreet?”
“What?” Oh, dear God, he was pressing a spot with his thumb and moving his fingers in and out, until she thought she might— “Yes. Of course.”
“Good.” He loomed over her, sinking a third finger inside to join the others, tips grazing against a spot which sent bolts of sensation shooting out across her body.
Haddon wasverygood at this. Seduction. Touching. Caressing. Dear God, no wonder half the women in thetonwere chasing him.
“What is the second question?” Her voice raised an octave on the last word as his fingers curled again. “Please,” she whispered.
“Not yet, my love.” His lips brushed hers. “But soon. Is this dress a favorite?” He leaned over and set down the empty whisky glass.
“No,” she said, too focused on what his fingers and thumb were doing to her. “I only chose the dress today because the color complimented the hat.”
“Good.” His hands slowly fell away, stroking her lightly before he did so.
Marissa panted softly. Haddon would drive her mad with want. “No. Please.” She was very close to begging him.
A large, warm hand moved to cup the underside of one breast. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin above her neckline before two knuckles sunk into the deep valley between them.
A tearing sound cut through the air as he jerked his hand, ripping the dress down the front.
“Oh, dear. I mean—” Marissa was aroused. Flustered. She’d never had a man want her so much he’d rip the clothes from her body.
The ache between her thighs intensified.
Pushing the wet dress from her shoulders, Haddon continued to tear at the poor garment until Marissa stood in nothing but her damp chemise and stays. He palmed one of her breasts, brushing his thumb against the tip of one hardened nipple. Then the heat of his mouth followed, sucking the small peak through the thin cotton of the chemise.
“Oh.” Her hands sunk into the damp strands of his hair. Tiny bursts of sensation radiated out from her breast, her inner muscles clenching, begging for the release only Haddon could give her.
His free hand took hold of her hip, teeth grazing over the taut bud of her nipple.
A knock sounded at the door. “My lady?” The muffled voice of her maid came from the other side of the door.
“Tell her to leave your dressing gown,” Haddon growled against her breast.
“Leave it outside, Felice. I’m enjoying,” her voice raised again as Haddon’s hand cupped her mound, “the fire.”
“Yes, my lady.” Footsteps moved away from the door.
“Don’t move, Marissa,” he admonished her again.
“I won’t,” she whispered, curling her fingers at her sides now that she was no longer holding her skirts. She refused to think of anything past this moment with Haddon.
Her eyes closed as he left her and went to the door to retrieve the dressing gown, throwing the lock as he did so. Not that her servants would have dared come in here.
Haddon tossed the dressing gown on the worn sofa. He hovered behind her, purring in satisfaction like the large panther she often imagined him to be. The length of him, hard and thick, teased her buttocks through the damp material of her chemise.
A charge of excitement shot up her spine as she felt the tug at the laces of her stays.
