Page 97 of Impossible
“Well, damn. Now I feelverybadly for my behavior.”
“Good, that was my intent.” Lucien said with a laugh, and Max joined him.
Perhaps he shouldn’t leave tomorrow after all.
By the time Ada walked into the library on the men’s side of the club that evening, she felt as though she’d been stretched taut on a torture rack. She’d spent the day trying to work and mostly failing as she kept thinking of Jonathan’s arrival and proposal. Memories of their time together, of the love they’d shared as well as the very sensible prospect of becoming Mrs. Hemmings, kept pressing to the front of her mind.
Ada went directly to the liquor, where a footman poured her a glass of Irish whiskey. “Thank you.” She moved to the corner where she could drink—probably too quickly—in relative privacy. But she kept her eye on the door.
Her vigilance was soon rewarded as Max strolled in. Only, he looked different. She realized his blond hair had been trimmed, and he was wearing what looked to be new clothes. She’d never seen them before and they appeared to be the latest fashion, certainly more current than what he typically wore.
She moved toward him without thinking, as if pulled by an invisible thread. His gaze met hers and seemed to sizzle with heat. Suddenly, the stress that was bunched in Ada’s shoulders dissipated. And she hadn’t even touched her whiskey.
“Max, you look splendid.” She couldn’t help staring at him, her body thrumming with desire.
“You are beautiful, as always,” he murmured.
“Have you seen the mezzanine?” she asked, overcome with the need to touch him, to kiss him, to somehow alleviate the desperate need pulsing within her.
His brow furrowed, and she took his hand, glad the library was virtually empty and didn’t contain any of their friends or family. Keeping an eye out for those very people, she led him quickly to the mezzanine, which was completely empty, as it should be this evening. Then she took him through a pair of draperies into the area that overlooked the ballroom below, which would also be empty, where the orchestra played during the assemblies. The drapes were closed on the ballroom side, so they couldn’t see the ballroom below.
She put her whiskey on a table where they kept refreshments for the orchestra. It was nearly dark with only the scant light filtering through the small break in the draperies they’d come through. “I’m afraid I can’t resist you at the moment. You look far too delectable.”
Ada launched herself against him, curling her hands around his neck. He clasped her tightly, lowering his head to kiss her. Their tongues met in a fierce dance as she thrust her fingers into his newly shorn hair. She stood on her toes, pressing her hips to his, desperate for relief against her sex.
He broke the kiss to feast upon her neck, cupping her nape as she arched backward in his embrace. “If I’d only known I just needed a new costume and a trim for my hair…” He gripped her backside and ground against her, giving her precisely what she wanted.
Moaning, she pulled his head back to hers and kissed him again, greedy for his taste and touch. “I need you, Max. Quickly.”
She looked about, wondering how they could accomplish what she wanted, and groaned in frustration.
He cupped her jaw, dragging his thumb across her cheek. “Shhh. Tell me what you want.”
“You. Inside me.”
He arched a brow. “You’re certain?”
She tugged at his hair. “Please.”
Reaching for the whisky, he lifted it to his lips and drained the contents. “Don’t want it to spill.” He smiled seductively before setting the empty glass back down. “Turn and put your elbows on the table.”
She stared at him, knowing what he meant, but taking a moment to process it because she’d never done that before. Excitement pulsed between her legs. She turned and leaned over the table.
He pulled her gown up and settled it about her waist. She heard his sharp intake of breath just before his hand moved over her backside, gently caressing her flesh.
“Move your legs farther apart.” His voice was low and harsh, and so provocative.
She could have listened to him give her commands all night and probably found her release from that alone. Opening herself up to him, she felt vulnerable, and that made her even more aroused. Her body screamed with want, every nerve on edge waiting for his touch where she wanted it most.
He squeezed and massaged her, attending to both globes of her backside. She was astonished at how his caresses heightened her desire and expectation. Then, at last, he stroked the folds of her sex, and she moaned over and over, her hips moving against his hand.
His touch was relentless, his fingers sliding into her, then rubbing her clitoris in a slow sequence of blissful torment. She gripped the other side of the table and pressed her cheek against the cool wood, closing her eyes as delicious pressure built in her sex. When he removed his hand, she cried out in distress. She’d been so close to her orgasm.
But his cock slid into her, and she cried out again, this time in relief. “Don’t let go of the table, Ada. I’m not going to be gentle.”
She nearly came right then.
Max seated himself fully inside her, then withdrew. He clasped her hips, holding her firmly as he drove into her hard. Ada held the table and kept her feet planted on the floor as he speared into her deep and fast, filling her with impossible ecstasy. She came like never before, her muscles clenching around him, his primal thrusts prolonging her pleasure.
