Page 50 of Tender Blackguard

Bringing a hand up in the tight space between them, he curled it against the side of her throat and pressed a broad thumb beneath her chin, tilting her head back as he plunged his tongue possessively past her teeth, twirling it with hers before retreating. Then, with ravenous hunger, he set his open mouth to her neck, teasing a heated path down to the pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of her collarbone.

Wonderful sensations flew through her body. Feelings of amazement, wanting, the greatest need for a kind of physical intimacy she’d never experienced before—never wanted before.

When he shifted his hold again, she couldn’t stop the faint sound of protest from catching in her throat. But he didn’t move to set her away. Instead, he kept her close in the circle of his arms as he turned her around to face away from him. With his hand still beneath her chin, he eased her head back against his shoulder so he could continue to explore the silky softness of her neck while his other hand splayed against her belly, holding her buttocks nestled warmly to his groin.

Her breath became stilted, and her head spun wildly with a wave of overwhelming, unprecedented desire.

With one hand, she reached down and back. Finding the hard column of his thigh, she curled her fingers against his muscled flesh, holding him to her. Her other hand reached forward to brace flat against the wall in front of her. Her lungs expanded with a deep breath that released on a heavy sigh.

She felt exposed—her body accessible to his touch, his every exploration, her heart open to the darkness around them. But she also felt more confident and secure against his large form than she had in her life. She felt wanted and protected. New experiences, both.

The play of his mouth at her throat sent thought-erasing tingles through her body, melting her spine as she began to move gently against him, just a soft shifting, a seeking. She needed something more in the connection between their bodies than simply being held.

With a hard and heavy moan, he tipped her head back and angled it toward him so he could settle his mouth on hers once again.

Yes. This.

Her tongue darted forward first. Demanding the dark, heady taste of him. As their mouths mated, furiously, ravenously, his hand slid down the column of her throat to catch at the high neck of her gown. With a sigh and a barely suppressed whimper, she realized he was releasing the long row of buttons that ran down the front of her gown.

Impatient and impulsive, she arched her spine and was immediately rewarded by the heavy pressure of his large hand at her low belly, the undeniable hardness of him cradled against her buttocks, and the sudden waft of air across her collarbone.

The low murmur of his voice against her lips soothed her though she had no idea what he said.

And then his fingers were curling around the gaping neckline of her gown as he slowly tugged it past the slope of her shoulder, baring a breast only thinly covered by her chemise.

With a growl of animalistic hunger that echoed hauntingly in the narrow corridor, he covered her aching breast with his hand. His fingers molded her shape as his tongue delved hotly into her mouth.

She could do nothing but revel in the pleasure of his forceful embrace, his expert hands, his rich, ravenous kisses as she found herself unexpectedly grateful that he wasn’t the type of man to offer gentle pecks or tentative caresses. She was shocked to discover how badly she’d needed to be so completely claimed by him. How she’d been longing for exactly this...this physical domination. This utter possession.

As she gasped and moaned against his lips, he shifted the hand he held to her abdomen, sliding it lower until he delved between her thighs. When his hand covered that hollow aching place with covetous strength, her legs weakened and her body shook. Though the layers of her skirts separated her sensitive flesh from his bare touch, the pressure was lovely and rich and illuminating. She pulsed and ached for more.

And when his finger expertly circled the budding crest of her breast as his mouth slid to the sensitive shell of her ear, she thought she might expire from the wild swirling of sensation through her body.

“I’m a wicked cad to be enjoying this so much,” he muttered thickly against her ear. “I know it, but I can’t keep myself from wanting more.”

His fingers shifted against her core, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

Lark turned her head to catch his lips. “Am I wicked, as well?” she gasped. “For needing it as I do?”

“You’re flawless,” he murmured.

“If only...that were true.”

He covered her breast again, shaping it to his liking as he began a lovely rhythmic stroke between her thighs. “Then we’ll be wicked together.”

She nearly broke. Her body tightening, arching, shaking in his arms.

But then—

A sound.

Quiet. Close. Undeniable.

They both stilled instantly. It took every minute ounce of Lark’s willpower to keep herself silent and unmoving in the marquess’s embrace. While her body remained ignited in flames. While her core thrummed. While her breath felt trapped and heavy in her lungs. While she clamped her teeth hard over her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes tightly closed.

She could feel a similar tension in the man behind her. In the sudden straightening of his stance, in the iron-bound security of his arms, and the assurance in his hands, still gripping her so intimately.

As the maid continued to move about the bedroom, a tear of frustration slipped from her eye to slide silently over the curve of her cheek to her chin before it fell.

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