She had eaten the peace offering he had sent her, and the knowledge pleased him.
He forgot about his toe. Forgot hehadtoes.
Sidney pulled her into his lap. She straddled him, her nightgown riding up her thighs. His hands found bare skin. Glorious, soft, seductive bare skin. Their kisses turned frenzied. Almost violent. She kissed him as if she wanted to consume him. He kissed her as if he would die if he did not have her mouth on his, as if she were the breath and the life force of him. Her riotous curls were long and heavy, a sweetly scented curtain falling around them.
He could not stop his touch from gliding higher. Following the heaven of her parted thighs. His fingers found sleek, feminine flesh. And wetness.Christ, she was dripping. Soaked, all from their kisses.
The discovery was potent, sending an answering surge of desire through him. He worked her pearl, slicking her dew over the responsive bud as she jerked and moaned into his mouth.
In that moment, it was only the two of them. No time, no distance, no betrayal or pain. They were back at Farnsworth Hall that charmed summer before everything had changed. How easy it was to forget. To pretend.
But there was one thing which required no pretense, and it was the pure, agonizing need for her spurring him on. He had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Julianna. Not before her, certainly not after her. And he had her now. Mayhap not the way he had wanted, but he had her. She was in his arms, in his lap, his house.
Soon to be in his bed.
If he could even make it there. He was not sure he could. He was wild for her.
Crazed and drunk with lust.
Had to have more. Could never have enough.
He traced her seam, parting her folds. Her cunny was wet and welcoming. Hot. So bloody hot. And good, so goddamn good. He had missed being inside her. Had missed her lips. The taste of her. Sidney was going to make up for that now.
He sank two fingers inside her. She clenched on him tight, dragging him deeper. He regretted he had never had the opportunity before to learn every place where she was most sensitive. He was going to make up for that.
And enjoy each exquisite moment.
He fucked her with his fingers now, adding a third, working in and out of her as she moaned and chased his hand, hips rolling against him as she sought more, urged him to go faster and harder.
His thumb stroked over her swollen clitoris, working her back and forth, finding the place she seemed to like best. More moans told him he was doing excellent work. She fed him kisses and needy, throaty sounds that drove him to the edge of madness. Heat blazed up his spine, and it was all he could do to keep from spending right there, without once thrusting his cock inside her.
She was greedy, wanting more, rocking on him, riding his fingers, her mouth demanding, her tongue writhing against his. The air was perfumed with her desire. She came on a cry, clamping on his fingers so hard, his ballocks tightened and his cock twitched with his own need for release.
He would be inside her soon. But not yet. He wanted her pinnacle more than he wanted his own. He intended to prolong the pleasure and intensity. To make her desperate and mindless and boneless. He curled his fingers, finding a new place where she was deliciously sensitive. She contracted around him in sweet spasms. He rubbed her pearl with increased dedication.
He was going to make her spend twice. And then he was going to lick her into another frenzy. He wanted to undo her, this woman who had been so far from him for so long.
She writhed, riding him. It was the single most erotic moment of his bloody life. And he was having it here on the floor, on the day of his wedding, with his wife.
With Julianna.
Surreal.
Wonderful.
He tore his lips from hers and kissed down her creamy throat, sucking, licking, biting. His mouth traveled over her collarbone, but he was thwarted from her bare shoulder by the linen of her night rail. With his free hand, he caught the prim-necked garment and tugged. Buttons popped free and rained on the carpet.
He did not give a damn. And from the way she was moving against him, those breathy sounds of pleasure spurring him on, neither did she. He gave her nightgown another tug, and more buttons spilled. The swells of her breasts were revealed.
And thank the Lord and all the saints in heaven.
He had been right that first night. Her bosom was larger now than it had been before. Glorious is what her breasts were. Full and perfect. Tipped with hungry pink nipples that were stiff and beckoning for his mouth.
He obliged. Lowered his head like the supplicant he was, worshiping at the altar of a goddess. He sucked her nipple hard, and she spent again, shuddering violently as she reached her crisis.
It was glorious. He sucked harder, and then he withdrew his fingers from her at last as the remnants of her release danced through her. What a sight she was, cheeks flushed, mouth swollen, hair a wild tangle about her beautiful face, breasts hanging from her torn bodice, and her pale legs bare, wrapped loosely around his waist.
Her eyes were dazed with passion, her breaths ragged.
