Now that he was investigating, he could not stop. His lips and tongue had a mind of their own, and they knew what they wanted. He cupped her breasts and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She arched her back and made a throaty sound of approval.
He released the bud and flicked his tongue over it, then blew a stream of hot air until she moaned again. “You like this, don’t you, Ellie?”
“Oh yes,” she whispered, no hesitation.
“And this.” He moved to her other nipple, sucking and licking and biting.
When he caught the sensitive peak in his teeth and tugged, her fingertips dug into his shoulders.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Your mouth is wicked and wonderful.”
He grinned against the heavenly curve of her breast and kissed his way to the smooth patch of skin between them. A lone trickle of water from her bath was there, sliding down, over her breastbone. He caught it on his tongue, tracing it back to where it had started, just beneath her left ear. His hands found her breasts, thumbs traveling over her hungry nipples as he kissed the fleshy lobe, then licked over the shell before tonguing the hollow behind it until she shuddered.
“I love the way you respond to me,” he praised. “The way your body comes to life. God, I could kiss you and lick you forever, and it would never be enough.”
A strangled sound tore from her throat, and then her fingers were on the buttons of his shirt, plucking at them, tearing them from their moorings in feverish eagerness. She was every bit as desperate for this union as he was, and the knowledge filled him with even greater fire.
He straightened, helping her with the buttons, before he gave in and simply pulled at the thing until it rent, tossing it to the floor. There would be other shirts. He did not give a damn if it was beyond repair. Especially not when Elysande’s hands were on him, worshiping his bare chest. Or when she kissed him as he had her, the dart of her pink tongue over his own nipple nearly making him into a wild man.
No woman had ever made him this mad to possess her.
He fumbled with the fall of his trousers as she kissed down his chest. Then lower, her delectable mouth coasting over his abdomen. When she sank to her knees, he gave up on the buttons and yanked. Several popped free and rained to the carpets. His desire was so potent, he felt as if he were drunk.
And there she was on the Axminster, utterly naked and more alluring than any Greek or Roman goddess. Her hair was a dark curtain raining down her back, her pretty breasts tipped upward. She leaned forward, brushing his useless fingers aside, and the swell of her bottom peeped from beneath all that glorious hair.
His mind whirled as he struggled to comprehend what was happening here. How the devil he had gone from the seducer to the seduced.
“Let me,” she purred.
And she did not have to make her request twice. He would let her do anything she wanted to him. He was indisputably, utterly hers. He belonged to her, not just because of the vows they had spoken in the chapel at Talleyrand Park, not because of the register they had signed, but because his body was connected to hers in a way he had never experienced. Nay, not just his body, but the rest of him, too.
Slowly, with exacting movements that had him ready to come out of his skin, she finished opening the fall of his trousers. Then, she tugged the waistband down, until he stood before her in nothing but his smalls, his cockstand protruding at an indecent angle from beneath the tented fabric. Elysande hummed, the sound steeped in a mixture of pleasure and approval, and his prick twitched. Her nimble fingers moved to the waistband of his undergarment, sending it to the floor along with his trousers.
He was naked and erect, standing before her like a Satyr. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. A drop of seed had seeped from the tip of him and pooled in the slit, glistening in the glow of the lamps. Her head dipped.
Surely she was not going to… An innocent lady would never…Fuck.
Her tongue flicked over the head of his cock, licking up the pearlescent bead of mettle. He ground his jaw to keep from crying out like a lad who had just seen his first naked woman.
“Do you like it?” she asked softly, watching him, awaiting his reply.
Ah, God.She expected words from him? Coherent response?
She was using his own seduction against him. If he were not so out of his head with need for her, he would have been impressed. Perhaps even concerned. What a quick student she was. But of course, for this was Elysande, and he ought to have known that she applied herself to everything fully and completely, determined to conquer.
“Yes,” he managed to force out, a lone hiss, because he did not want her to arrive at the wrong conclusion and stop.
“I do too,” she said, and then she kissed him.
Kissed him on his cock.
One velvet brush of her lips to the sensitive underside. If he did not take care, he was going to spend all over her pretty breasts.
“You like this too, don’t you?” she said, her lips moving against his turgid length with every word.
Elysande on her knees, torturing him with that luscious mouth of hers, was the single most erotic sight he had ever beheld. A gentleman would tug her to her feet and tell her to stop. But Hudson was feeling anything but a gentleman just now.
“I bloody well love it,” he told her.
