He swept her up in his arms in a smooth movement so elegant that it seemed effortless. She tensed, horrified that he had lifted her again. But he carried her to the bed as if she weighed no more than a babe. Depositing her in the soft sheets, he stood back to finish undressing.
Thalia forgot her modesty, the breath catching in her throat as the marquess removed his shirt, revealing a lovingly sculpted torso. Each muscle was defined and firm, from his broad shoulders down to his chiseled abdomen. His skin, kissed by the sun, glowed with a golden hue, contrasting strikingly with the silvery hair that fell around his face. Light and shadow played over his chest, highlighting the mountains and valleys of his physique.
He dropped his hands to the waistband of his trousers, and with eyes fixed on her, started undoing his fly buttons one by one. She couldn’t look away, the expectation building in her almost too much to bear. When he had unbuttoned his trousers, he pushed them down together with his underwear, revealing the robust tower of his member. It rose straight up towards his belly, ruddy and engorged.
Her mouth hung open in an unflattering gape. She hadn’t known it would be that big. In the sculptures she had observed, the member was small and unthreatening. Thatthingwould not fit inside her. It would tear her apart!
Her alarming thoughts must have shown on her face, for he smiled. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be gentle. By the time I put this in you, you’ll be ready and begging for it.”
Taking his member in his hand, he made a strong fist and stroked, coming towards her. She wanted to run scared. Yet his magnetic pull was so strong that it drew her closer instead. The rhythmic strokes of his hand on his own flesh were weirdly arousing. She rose on an elbow.
“Want to touch?” he asked, holding it towards her.
She did. His anatomy, menacing as it was, held a weird fascination over her. She reached out and brushed her fingers over the flared crown. So smooth. She didn’t know such soft skin could exist anywhere in this big, hard man. Encouraged by his grunt of pleasure, her fingers grew bolder. Contouring, tracing, closing over the turgid flesh.
He groaned aloud this time, his hand moving to close over hers, tightening her fist much more than she would have done on her own.
“Yes, that’s it. Hold me tight.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. Your hand on my cock feels amazing. There, you got it. Keep doing that. You do that so well,” he encouraged, pumping his hips into her fist, then letting go of her hand.
A droplet of milky fluid collected on the slit. Acting on pure instinct, and before she could think it through, she leaned in and lapped it up.
“Oh, good grief!”
His exclamation had her jumping back in alarm, releasing his member. What had she done? Was he angry?
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
His eyes seemed to warm as he beheld her. “Don’t be sorry, my angel. I’m the one who should apologize. That was incredible, but unexpected. You caught me by surprise and almost made me spend, that’s all.”
“Don’t you want to?” She thought that was the whole point of this.
“Oh, my sweet darling. I do. But not yet. Not until I have worshiped every inch of your gorgeous body and have given you the release at least three times.”
“Three times?”
It was a testament to his effect on her that what caught her attention was that, instead of his absurd flattery. Was she beginning to believe him? His body certainly spoke of unbridled desire.
“At the very minimum,” he said as he climbed onto the bed and pushed her back.
He fell on her breasts like a ravening wolf.
CHAPTER 12
SHE WAS MORE BEAUTIFULthan even his lurid imagination had visualized. Creamy, unblemished skin dotted with just a few freckles here and there, as if sprinkled with fairy dust. Her breasts, those generous orbs that overflowed his hands, were an erotic masterpiece that almost brought him to his knees with want. Her nipples were pink and swollen like ripe raspberries. He took one in his mouth and caressed it with his tongue, reveling in the delighted mewl of pleasure and the sinuous undulation of her body beneath his. Oh, she liked that, didn’t she? He did it again, twirling his tongue around her nipple and gently sucking while plucking the other with his fingers. Her groan was feral this time.
“Yes, my kitten. Roar for me.”
He continued his relentless stimulation until her back arched off the bed, her head flung back with abandon, while her hands gripped his head to keep him attached to her breast. If she only knew, she didn’t need to worry. He was going nowhere.
He cradled his aching erection against her hip, focusing only on her, on her pleasure, on her frantic response to his touch. That was the headiest aphrodisiac he had ever tasted. She was fire and passion in his arms. A flame dancing hectically in the wind.
When her fingers tunneled through his hair, grasping and pulling at his head, he knew she was close.
“Liam, I can’t,” she sobbed. “It’s too much.”
