He stopped, blowing air over the taut nub he’d justpleasured. “What do you like? Tell me.”
“I like your tongue.” She pressed her breast into his cheek.“I like your mouth on me.”
“You’re wicked, my dear.” He kissed the plump mound she’doffered him. “You surprise me.”
“I did warn you against my forthright nature,” she remindedhim, breathless as his mouth seared a trail back up to her neck and at last herlips.
Their hungry mouths met. He drew her back against him,pushing the crumpled remnants of her nightgown from her waist, down over herhips. It landed on the floor about her ankles, sending a brief draft of air upher naked legs. One of his hands cupped her bottom while the other skimmed overthe curve of her belly and settled into the mound at the apex of her thighs.His long fingers dipped into the folds of her sex, exerting a thrillingpressure to her just where she’d wanted it most.
“I’m grateful for your nature,” he whispered, nipping at herlips. He rubbed the hidden button between her legs, the one she’d only daredtouch once or twice in the bath. Then, she’d been ashamed. Now she wasthrilled, enveloped by sensation. Pure bliss surged through her body, alongwith a yearning for more.
“Please,” she begged, uncertain what she was asking him for.Completion. A joining. Anything that would satisfy the crescendo of longingthat was driving her as mad as he’d said he wanted to make her. She’d neverknown anything so potent and incredible was possible between a man and woman.
“Tell me what you want,” he urged. His ministrationscontinued, his pace increasing along with the pressure he exerted upon her.
She was about to fracture, to collapse. Her breathing washitched at best. Her heart was preparing to leap from her chest. Amazingsensation built to a wild pitch as his fingers worked between her legs withincreasing intensity. It was as if he knew she was about to come undone.
“I…” she began, only to falter. She didn’t think she couldspeak. He lowered his mouth to suck a hard nipple once more, and the dam withinher burst. She writhed against him, desire rippling through her body in wavesof unadulterated pleasure. Her hips ground against him as she cried out, headthrown back.
“Do you want me to fuck you, darling?” he asked, licking apath around the pink tip of her breast.
As the ripples of passion began to subside, she felt a newspurt of wetness between her legs. He continued teasing her there, and herflesh was sensitized by his touch so much that she feared she would reach herpeak again in another breath.
She’d never heard the word fuck before, and she had afeeling it was terribly bad, but she loved the way it sounded on his lips.Whatever it meant, she was quite certain she wanted it very much.
“Do you?” he asked again as his fingers moved over her witha practiced expertise.
She gasped at the heightened sensation. If the pleasure hegave her had been strong before, it was overwhelming now. “I do,” she said. Shewanted more of that, wanted to be filled. By him, with him.
Just when she was on the brink, he withdrew, startling her.In the next instant, he caught her up in his arms. She threw her arms about hisneck for purchase. No man had ever scooped her up thusly before, as if sheweighed no more than a feather pillow. And she knew she weighed far more than afeather pillow.
“I’m too heavy,” she protested, fearing he’d hurt his back.It wasn’t as if she was overly large, but she knew she possessed the requisitefeminine curves. She was no willowy miss, that much was certain.
“You’re a perfect armful,” he countered, looking impossiblyrakish with his black mask and seductive smile.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath the silkshielding his face from her view there hid a dangerously handsome man. He wasthe opposite of the only other man whose attentions she’d ever wanted asidefrom Jonathan.
Her husband.
Sandhurst had been far too busy to even say more than ahandful of sentences to her after he’d secured her fortune. Having won her,he’d promptly abandoned her in favor of his beautiful mistress. Maggie hadlonged to be the sort of beauty a man would desire. The kind of woman who couldinspire passion, sin, bedchamber romps. Dear heavens, the kind of woman who shehad inexplicably become over the course of one enchanted evening at LadyNeedham’s ball.
She forced all unhappy thoughts from her mind and insteadfocused on the man who carried her across the room to deposit her on the bedwith a gentleness that suggested he thought she was fashioned of the finestporcelain. He was everything a gentleman ought to be, and whether or not shewould ever see him again come the morning, she was thankful she’d been giventhis one night to spend in his arms. With hearts in need of repair, they hadsomehow found each other.
Maggie watched her lover as he shucked his coat and silk tieand made short work of his white shirt. In a breath, his chest was bare to herseeking gaze. He was broadly built, well-muscled, his stomach taut, chestdotted by a tantalizing amount of dark hair. She’d never before seen a baremale torso aside from the marble slabs and oils applied to canvas in the nameof art. No artist’s rendering had ever been so perfect, at least not in hereyes. She longed to touch him.
And then, he unfastened his trousers, allowing them too tofall. His manhood jutted from between his firm, horseman’s thighs. Thick andhard, it rose in proud relief against a small whorl of hair and his sac. Hermouth went dry as she stared at his shaft. She knew a bit about men and women,both from her married heiress friends who had dared to share treasured secretsand from the saucy novels she read in private. She was aware that he was aboutto put himself inside her. It was daunting to be sure. How painful would it be?She stiffened as a new wave of nervousness assailed her.
He seemed to sense her sudden discomfort. Still wearing hismask though not a stitch else, he lowered his strong body to the bed alongsidehers. He cupped her face and gave her a lingering, tender kiss.
“You needn’t fear me, my dear,” he whispered, breaking awayfrom her. “We shall do only what you want. Tonight, I am yours. Do you understand?”
She stared at him, at a loss. He was giving himself to her.Completely. “Mine?” she asked, doubting him.
“Yours,” he repeated. “Your servant for tonight. I seek onlyto bring you pleasure.”
“You already have,” she said foolishly. She didn’t know whathe wanted of her. It seemed he imagined her a woman who knew the ways between aman and woman. Perhaps when he had guessed he was her first lover, he had meanther first lover outside her marriage. Most married women had lost theirmaidenhood, so his was not an unreasonable assumption. “I haven’t done thisbefore,” she added for good measure.
“I know you haven’t.” He smiled and kissed her again.
