He glanced up at her to find her still flushed, watching himwith an expression he’d never seen from her. “Would you prefer to see them?”
Ah, she was back to the teasing wanton once more. His cockwas hard as stone, pressing against his trousers despite the cold, damp fabric.“I would.”
Meeting his gaze, she removed her arms. Her breasts wereperfection. “There you are,” she said simply, as breezily as if she werecomplimenting the fabric of the curtains across the room.
She had courage, his Maggie, a backbone as rigid as a brickwall. “I love your breasts,” he told her, sliding his hands ever higher untilhe reached her upper thighs. “Will you open your legs for me, darling? I wantto pleasure you so very badly.”
Wordlessly, she allowed her knees to fall apart, openingherself to him. No hesitation. She was a match for him in every way. His eyesdevoured every inch of creamy skin revealed to him, lingering on the folds ofher cunny. He could already smell her sweet, earthy scent. She was aroused, hercunny pink and glistening, ready for him.
Yes, this was what he wanted. He struggled to rein in thedesire careening through him. He wanted to go slowly, to torture them both withanticipation, with pleasure. He ran his hands back down her voluptuous legs,loving the feel of them, the freedom of touching her as he pleased.
“Put your legs over me thusly,” he directed her quietly,showing her where he wanted her at the same time.
She did as he asked without further question, allowing himto place her legs as he wished so that the backs of her knees rested upon hisshoulders. Bloody hell, yes. He grabbed her rump next, scooting her to the veryedge of the settee until her cunny nearly touched the bright gilding holdingthe upholstery in place. He hoped she soaked the damn settee so much that heneeded to replace it.
Looking up at her, he placed a kiss on the inside of eachthigh. She watched him, her lip caught between her teeth. Her violet eyes weredreamy, half-closed. She wanted this every bit as much as he did. Still keepingher gaze trapped by his, he at last lowered his head to the prize he sought. Hegently pulled back her mound until the plump bud he wanted jutted proudlyforward. And then he took her in his mouth, sucking.
She moaned above him, her fingers sinking into his hair,running over his scalp. A hot surge of lust went directly to his cock. He lovedthe way she tasted, of muskiness and something innately hers. Delicious. Histongue flicked over her, up and down, side to side, before he sucked her again.She bucked against him, pressing her wet cunny into his face. Perfect. God. Hewas going to lose himself in her and he didn’t give a damn.
With a growl against her eager flesh, he pulled back,glancing up at Maggie to find she’d closed her eyes, her mouth open. Herbreasts were erotic as hell. She was a Venus on display. His. He wanted to fuckher with his tongue and then replace it with his cock.
He lowered his head and sank his tongue into her slipperycunny, again and again. She cried out, twisting against him, and he knew shewas nearing her climax. He wanted to make her come as she’d never come before.He reached up, pressing a hand against her belly and slipping his thumb backonto her clitoris. He worked it back and forth, exerting as much pressure as hedared, as much as he knew made her writhe even more beneath him, all the whileplunging his tongue deep inside her.
Suddenly, she shook and he felt a rush of wetness on hismouth. Ah, yes. He had made his darling girl find herpetite mort. Shecried out his name, nearly sobbing with the power of her release.
Now he was going to fuck her again. Fuck her until she cameall over him once more. She was so very wet. He couldn’t wait to be inside her.Not another breath. He fumbled for his shirt, opening it over the carpet.
“Here, darling.” Simon took her small hand in his. She wasstill dazed, the perfect picture of a wanton with her mussed hair, slack mouthand shining eyes. He pulled her to her knees, helping her to arrange herself onthe softer fabric of his shirt. “I want you desperately.”
She opened for him, holding her arms out. “I want you too.”
Her words sent a new arrow of heat searing through him, thekind that pierced his heart. Damn it. He tore open the fastening of histrousers, releasing his rigid cock. In the next instant, he was inside her withone long thrust. She was hot and slippery and tight. Heaven. When she wrappedher arms around his waist and drew him even deeper, he was lost. He pumped intoher, again and again. Out, then in, a delicious rhythm designed to make themboth mad. At last, she constricted on him, her cunny wringing the last bit ofsanity from him. He lost himself, coming so hard his heart nearly leapt fromhis chest.
Dear sweet Christ. Panting as if he’d just run for his life,he collapsed against her, pressing a kiss to her perfect lips. He touched hisforehead to hers, completely bemused by what she’d done to him.
She framed his face with her hands, her eyes twinkling up athim, an impish smile on her mouth. “Perhaps next time you won’t be sodisagreeable about taking a walk in the rain.”
He couldn’t help himself. He threw back his head andlaughed. Bloody hell. She was right.
* * * * *
“Tell me, what is your favorite poem?”
Maggie leaned back on the coverlet Simon had spread acrossthe grass for their impromptu picnic and considered him. He watched her with anopen expression as he nibbled on a sandwich prepared for them by his redoubtablecook Mrs. Gaston. She still couldn’t believe she’d managed to convince him tojoin her for a picnic luncheon so easily. She knew it was oftende rigueurat country house parties, but Simon always seemed so staid, so fussy andincapable of levity. He had changed. He’d opened himself to her.
“You’re staring at me,” he observed, frowning. “Have I askedsuch an odd question?”
Oh dear. She was mooning over him, and she’d quite forgottenwhat he’d asked. She thought for a moment, trying her best not to look like asilly miss. Ah, yes. Poetry. She found their common interest heartening. It wasone more thing that drew them together whereas before, one rather large andunfortunate thing had drawn them apart.
“How can I choose just one?” she asked him. “Perhaps youhave a favorite?”
His eyes darkened. “I find that I prefer the poetry writtenby my wife.”
She flushed, unable to fight back a smile. He certainly knewhow to charm her. “Thank you, Simon, but I fear you’re merely trying to woome.”
He raised a brow. “I didn’t know I needed to woo you. I’vealready won you, after all.”
But his actions had belied his words. Unless she wasmistaken, he had begun doing his very best to win her. “I’m beginning to thinkperhaps you already have,” she admitted before she could think better of it.
