Wicked words.
Wrong.
This was sinful and depraved.
She loved it. Loved him. She rocked against his face as a second wave crashed over her, this one more luxurious and luscious than the last. A calamity within her in the very best possible sense.
He reared back on his haunches, his mouth glistening with the evidence of her desire. Her pulse was thrumming between her legs, and her body told her there was much more she needed. This had been the prelude to something wilder, better.
If she but dared.
“Sidney,” she said, finding her courage, her boldness. “Make love to me.”
He stilled, his hands on her knees. “Julianna…”
When he would have protested, she leaned forward and caught his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his lips, staying any other words he may have offered. She tasted herself, musky and strange. And then he groaned again, kissing her back with more ferocity than she had expected. He kissed her hard and fast, his tongue sliding into her mouth before he reared back, staring at her, breathless.
“You do not know what you are asking for,” he said.
“Yes,” she countered, “I do. And I want it very much. Give it to me, Sidney. Give me you.”
“Christ.” He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead to hers. “You were reluctant enough about courting. What you ask of me now…”
“What I ask of you is what we both want,” she argued, kissing him again.
And again.
And again.
She kissed him until their tongues tangled. Until her mouth felt bruised and sore and delicious. Until her nipples tingled. Until her sex pounded and throbbed. And then she kissed him some more for the sheer joy of his lips beneath hers and for the loveliness of having the freedom to have him at her mercy.
This glorious man.
This beautiful lord.
Hers.
For tonight.
And if she had her way, for forever.
He guided her down, until she lay on the cushioned bench, and then he joined her without ever removing his lips from hers. Her legs fell open to accommodate him as he reached between them to part the slit in her drawers once more. His fingers teased over already aching flesh, earning another moan of surrender from her.
When she was at the edge, he withdrew, raining kisses on her jaw. All the way to her ear, chanting her name as he went. “Julianna, my sweet Julianna. You want this?”
How could he doubt it?
“Yes.” The word left her with ease, without thought.
There was a flurry of motion as he undid the fall of his trousers. And then there was flesh, hot and hard, prodding her center. Making her want more. Filling her with a new ache.
He pressed forward, and there was pressure, foreign and intense and somehow good. She shifted beneath him, seeking instinctively. He found his way back to her mouth, kissing her slowly, tenderly.
With almost maddening torpor, he thrust, bringing the thick ridge of his manhood deeper. She was stretched and full and it felt unlike anything she had ever anticipated. But still, it was not enough. She was impatient. Greedy.
Julianna jerked beneath him, hips pumping. He groaned into their kiss and pushed forward, pinning her to the bench with his bigger, masculine form as he made love to her. Their tongues dueled. He thrust again and she welcomed him, any lingering resistance from her body subsiding as she fully accommodated his. She was throbbing and aflame, poised on the edge of something luscious.
“More?” he asked her.
