“Richford,” she murmured.
He dragged more of her skirts upward, running his tongue along her soft skin to her ear, where he gently bit the fleshy lobe with his teeth. “I warned you, damn it.”
“I don’t heed warnings,” she murmured, her voice breathy and thick with desire. “They’re dreadfully tedious and boring.”
This bloody woman.
What was he going to do with her?
“You’re a menace, brat,” he told her, nipping at her ear.
Or mayhap he was the menace, because he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Nor could he get enough of her. He kissed her temple, leaning into her as he lifted her skirts some more.
“Did you like what you saw?” he asked. “Were you not shocked and horrified?”
“What do you think?” she taunted.
And he surrendered to temptation. Her gown was almost to her waist. He slid his hand underneath the heavy gathering of fabric and skimmed his fingers over the split in her drawers. She was warm, so warm, and inviting and bloody fucking hell, her drawers were damp. He parted the fabric, intent on touching her in truth, finding her bud and teasing her until she spent on his fingers.
“I think you did like it, minx,” he managed, his own desire thundering through him like a raging summer storm.
“Of course I did. Was that not the point?”
“Christ no,” he admitted, and then Aubrey lost control of his mind and tongue both, because he touched her.
Hetouchedher sweet, hot cunny. And bloody, bloody hell.
She was so wet and hot that he could do nothing but groan, running his finger up and down her seam, gathering her wetness. Her pearl was swollen and responsive when he gave her a sleek stroke. Ah, God. She felt so good. Better than good, better than he could have possibly imagined.
His tongue was envious of his fingers, but he knew he wouldn’t have a comfortable means of pleasuring her that way. He wanted her in a bed, naked and sitting on his face. He’d eat her cunny and stroke himself to completion. Then he would?—
No.
What was he thinking? He couldn’t do any of those things. He had to stop this madness.
Except she made a soft, feminine sound of appreciation and rocked her hips, and how could he possibly do anything but give her what she wanted? He swirled his fingertips over her clitoris.
“This is where you long to be touched most, isn’t it?” he asked, wickedness overcoming him.
“Yes,” she gasped when he increased his pressure and pace.
“You need to come so badly,” he whispered, and it was agony and ecstasy, because so did he.
“Richford,” she said, her nails digging into his shoulders with greater urgency. “Please.”
He could give her this, he decided. What was the harm? She was overwrought, and she was yet a neophyte to desire. Carnal greed took hold of him then, shattering his conscience and his sense of loyalty both. Why should it not be him? Rhiannon wanted to know pleasure. He could show her, give her what she wanted. In return, he could make certain she wouldn’t fall into the clutches of one of the jaded rakehells in attendance.
It was almost honorable, when he thought about it.
The door rattled suddenly behind Rhiannon, followed by a loud series of knocks. “Is anyone in there?”
He froze, his hand on Rhiannon’s wet, silken quim.
Rhiannon stiffened, eyes going wide as they met his.
Thank God he’d thought enough to lock the door after them when they’d entered. The last thing he would have wanted was for an interloper to appear in a moment like this.
“The room is in use at present,” he called out, raising his voice enough so that it would carry as he removed his hand and dropped Rhiannon’s skirts as if they had been made of hot coals.
