Page 59 of The Marquess and the Maiden

“Why is that funny?”

“I don’t know. Just seems an odd thing to dream about.”

“Oh, but that’s because you don’t have the imagination I do. The things I want to do to your breasts, Harriet.” He lowered his head and sucked the hardened tip into his mouth.

She cried out.

He massaged the other one while he continued to kiss and suck the first. Her hips bucked and twisted, trying to find relief.

Her hand moved up his chest, then back down, tracing the muscles in his torso. Though her fingers were cold, he’d never tire of her explorative touch.

“I’ve dreamed of washing them, lathering up soap, and rubbing the soft bubbles against your magnificent breasts.”

Her fingers ventured lower, to the indention at his hip and then around to his bottom. She brought her entire hand there and cupped him. He ground himself against her thigh as he sucked hard on her breast.

She arched again, pulled at his bottom to get him to move closer to her. But it wasn’t time yet. He needed her nice and wet and wanting him so badly that he barely had to touch her before she came.

“I, of course, dreamed of kissing and sucking them, as I am now.” He showed her precisely what he’d thought about doing to her so many times. Her moans of pleasure tugged at the base of his erection. He slid a hand up between her breasts, the sensitive skin that lay in her cleavage. “More than anything, though, I’ve thought about putting my cock here.”

He’d have given anything to have seen her expression because the little “oh” that came out of her mouth must have reflected pure desire.

“But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to put it here.” He slid his hand down her stomach, into the warm, wet spot between her legs. He did not slip his finger inside her just yet. All the same, she pushed herself into his hand, her body begging for what it needed.

Her hands were frantic and needy as she moved them across his skin. One still cupping his ass, the other moving over his stomach muscles.

She rocked her hips toward him. He slipped one finger into her folds.

“Oliver,” she breathed.

He closed his eyes and relished his name on her lips. He pushed another finger inside her, and her hands gripped at his flesh, her nails biting into his skin. Then he moved them, slowly at first, but as her whimpers increased, so did his speed. With his thumb, he traced over the hidden nub, and she gasped.

“Oh my, oh my!”

He kept his rhythm, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her channel tightened around his fingers, and her breathing shallowed. She was getting close. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth and laved it with kisses. She tensed and then broke.

“Oliver, Oliver, yes…”

He could wait no longer. While she was still riding the aftereffects he positioned himself atop her.

“Am I too heavy for you?”

“No, the pressure is actually pleasant,” she said. “Though foreign.”

He was glad that she felt free to talk to him during their lovemaking.

“This might pinch,” he said, then he sheathed himself inside her.

Her nails bit into his biceps, and she tensed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no way around that little pain. It won’t hurt from now on.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

He bent and kissed her, tenderly, then slowly he moved his hips, pressing into her, then pulling back out nearly to his tip.

“Harriet, you have no idea how good you feel.”

Gingerly, she pulled up her legs and wrapped them around his waist, seating him into her even deeper. He swore.

She froze. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s just really good, and I wanted to last longer for you.” With this new angle though, every thrust rubbed him against her bundle of nerves, and she gasped each time.

“Again?” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I hope so.” He thrust into her, in and out and then felt her spasm around him as she cried out his name. One more push and he spilled his seed inside her.

He’d been right about one thing—his desire for her would never wane.

---