Her arms looped over his shoulders, holding him to her now. “I…oh, that is quite good.”
Quite good?
He could also do better than that, damn it.
“I could kiss you on your cunny,” he whispered into her ear. “Would you like that, darling?”
A low sound emerged from her, part moan, part gasp, a seductive combination of longing and shock. “Where?” she whispered.
It occurred to him that she may never have heard the word before. To be sure, it was not an expression that was bandied about in ballrooms and over tea. How virginal was she?Christ.He had never bedded an innocent. Not even his first lover had been a virgin. And in that instance, she had been the one to seduce him.
He thrust all thoughts of the past and other women from his mind, for they had no place here. Slowly, he moved his hand from her waist, gliding it down her belly until he found the apex of her thighs. He cupped her there. It was an easy feat with nothing separating them but the flowing, soft fabric of her dressing gown and the night rail she undoubtedly wore beneath it. No corset, no drawers. Just the heat of her sex, shapely andhis, teasing his palm.
God, she felt good.
Better than good.
“Here,” he rasped, about to lose control from nothing more than a mere touch.
Where had the renowned seducer gone? Who was this green lad in his place?
“Oh,” she said, eyes wide.
“Yes.” He kissed her neck again. “I could lick you, kiss you until you spend. Would you like that, darling? Have you ever experienced anything like it? I assure you, it is better than a merequite good. Some would call it exquisite.”
“Arthur would have never—”
“Fuck Arthur,” he interrupted, a surge of irritation overtaking him at the mentioning of that sad, pathetic fop who had thrown her over for an American fortune.
“Of course,” she agreed. “Forgive me.”
How bloody awkward. He was still cupping her heat, and her body was wrapped around his, her breath hitched. He did not mistake her hunger or her reaction to him. This was a mutual passion flaring into uncontrollable flame.
He jerked his head back, meeting her gaze. “There is no place for past lovers between us. There is only you and I. There is also no place for politeness. Do you want my mouth on you, my tongue in you? Tell me, Izzy. Say it. Be wicked with me. I need you tonight.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
It was the best word he had ever bloody heard.
* * *
She had not cometo the library expecting to find Anglesey. Or looking to be seduced. She had been plagued by an inability to sleep despite the arduousness of the day. And then she had seen the glow coming from the library, and she had been drawn there.
Drawn to the threshold just as she had been drawn to him.
“Be wicked with me,” he was saying, his voice laden with sin and silk. “I need you tonight.”
What answer could she give him but one? “Yes.”
Yes because he was undoing her, unraveling her resolve, banishing her concerns. Yes because he was making her forget everything and anything but him, this moment of shadows and promise and desire. Making her forget everything but his hand, possessive and firm, over her, caressing that most intimate place.Cunny.The intimate place had a name. He had used it, and now he was touching her there, bringing senses to life.
Making her hunger for more. The sensual languor that had descended on her from the moment she had placed her hand in his grew stronger, heavier. She became aware of her body in a new way. She was throbbing, aching with an undefined need only he seemed to understand.
She moved against him, seeking friction, and he gave her what she wanted, caressing. But there were too many layers of fabric separating them. She shocked herself with her own yearning. She wanted his hand on her. Touching her. Stroking her.
More.She wanted his mouth.
She was panting, writhing against him, twisting in an effort to increase the pressure, the pace.
