She nodded yes, unable to form words with the thickness of his rod filling her mouth, and loath to relinquish it for even one second. She sensed he was nearing his breaking point. His breaths came faster, his hips moved more recklessly. One of his hands had come to her head and now grabbed her by the hair, gently guiding her mouth with his hands.
“Oh, darling, I can’t hold off much longer. Let go now if you don’t want me to spill in your mouth.”
She sucked with renewed vigor.
“You want me to come in your mouth?” He seemed surprised. More like stupefied. She nodded, raising her eyes until their gazes connected. That did him in. “Oh, good heavens.”
The first spurt of his seed hit the back of her throat, and she moaned in surprise, but instinctively swallowed. Taking all he had to give, draining him clean until nothing was left and the tension had left his muscles. She released his member with a pop, and it flopped heavily against his stomach, exhausted, but still magnificent and proud.
Then he was pulling her up by her arms to cradle her against his chest. “Damn, my muse. That was incredible.” As if then realizing she was still fully dressed, he picked at the voluminous sleeve of her gown. “You are wearing too many clothes. I’ll remedy that right away. Just remember that turnaround is fair play.”
CHAPTER 18
THEY WERE FAST APPROACHINGthe London station. This train ride had been like an enchanted bubble. She blushed as she remembered how he had disrobed her, disarming her embarrassment with words of encouragement and praise. Once she had run out of protests, he proceeded to drive her insane with ecstasy, using his mouth and talented hands.
But just like a bubble, it couldn’t last long, and it was about to burst. Soon she would be back in her normal life. If she found that the prospect filled her with melancholy, she would never let him know.
She had caught his frown as he helped her don her clothes. Receiving his help had been mortifying, but he had insisted. It had been a mistake to allow him to remove her clothes in the light of day. Candlelight and night were more forgiving, but there was no hiding imperfections in the harsh light of day. A man like him, an artist, would be drawn to beauty and a pleasing form. He must be disappointed at discovering her many flaws.
He had given her a precious gift, and she would appreciate it as such and not wish for more. Nothing worse than a clingy lover. She touched his arm, ready to say goodbye with grace.
“Thank you for your help during this trip, and for...everything.”
He frowned again, looking at her. “You’re welcome, love. But it sounds as if you are saying goodbye, and you won’t get rid of me just yet. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, that’s unnecessary, my lord. I’ll take a hackney at the station.” No point in prolonging this goodbye.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take you to your house and make sure you arrive safely.”
She couldn’t argue anymore without seeming stubborn, so she dropped the matter. What were a few more minutes? She would use them to engrave his image in her mind. Not that she thought it would ever fade.
But when the marquess’s opulent carriage stopped in front of her modest townhouse in Marylebone, instead of saying goodbye, he seized her by the waist and lifted her onto his lap.
“Will you visit me tomorrow?” he asked as he nuzzled her cheek, making her melt for him all over again.
“For what purpose, my lord?”
“You mean besides this?” he said, capturing her mouth in a deep, hard, almost desperate kiss.
It left her breathless, with barely enough wits to reply. “I thought we were through.”
If she thought he had been displeased before, she had been wrong. She had never seen a frown so fierce. “I’m certainly not through with you. Have you had enough of me, my muse?”
“I—No, my lord. Not at all. But we never discussed a long-term arrangement. I won’t become your mistress.”
She didn’t want to let go. Not yet. Perhaps never. But she couldn’t cheapen their relationship with a mercantile agreement, and the longer they stayed involved, the harder it would be for her to part with him.
“I’m not asking you to be my mistress. We are lovers, and you are my muse. How will I be able to sculpt you if you don’t model for me?”
“You really want me to model for you? I thought you were jesting.”
“My art is something I never joke about. I already started sculpting your face. But I need you in my study to sculpt the rest of you. Come to my home tomorrow, Thalia. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
His voice was pure seduction. It trickled down her body like warmed honey. It was impossible for her to refuse. She nodded.
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”
THALIA’S NERVES THRUMMEDwith anxiety as she knocked on the door of the marquess’s splendid townhouse the following day. She was wearing a veil, afraid of being recognized. When the butler opened, she stammered she was there to see Lord Ashford.
