Strong hands on her waist lifted her until her bare bottom settled in the soft nest of the bedclothes. She reached for the counterpane, thinking to shield herself, but he caught her hand in his.
“Let me look at you,” he rasped. “Please.”
It was the reverence in his voice that shattered her embarrassment. She thrust back her shoulders and raised her chin as his heated stare devoured her.
“As you like,” she invited him, her own gaze traveling lovingly over every detail of his bare upper body.
Long, strong arms that flexed as he moved. How was it possible for him to be even more beautiful without his clothes? It seemed an impossibility, and yet, somehow, he was.
“I like.” He flattened his hands on either side of her on the bed, his big body bending toward her. Their lips met in a kiss. “Very much.” He kissed down her throat. “More than words…” His mouth moved along her collarbone, then dotted across her shoulder. “…can possibly convey.”
She swallowed as his lips trailed lower, finding the curve of her breast. Her nipples were already hard, aching to be touched. As if he could sense what she wanted, he took one in his mouth and sucked.
A cry left her as she arched her back, a new pulse beating to life between her legs.
He released the peak of her breast.
“Hush,” he reminded her.
Suitably chastened, she bit her lip.
“You’re so damned beautiful, Rhiannon.” He dipped his head, and his hot, knowing mouth closed over the distended peak. He sucked hard.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she arched into him. The feeling between her legs intensified. It was as overwhelming as when they had been alone in the observation room. He moved to her other breast, flicking his tongue around her nipple in maddening circles before suckling until a muffled cry slipped from her lips.
“So responsive,” he praised. “I wonder if you could come from my mouth on your breasts alone.”
A ragged breath escaped her.
He chuckled, the sound a wicked rasp. “Perhaps we’ll test that later. For now, I’m too impatient to taste you.”
A forbidden thrill shot through her at his words. For she knew what he meant. What he intended. Aubrey wanted to use his mouth on her just as the man had done to the woman in the viewing room.
And she wanted him to.
He sank to his knees on the carpet, his hands gliding over her bare thighs. “Open for me, minx.”
Rhiannon realized she had been holding her legs together tightly, trying to quell the ache. He kissed a path from her hip to her knee like a devoted supplicant. If watching another couple had felt wicked, having him on his knees before her, intent upon kissing her most intimate place, felt deliciously wrong and yet oh-so right. This was Richford, the man she had yearned for all these years. Finally, at last, seeing her.
Touching her.
Desiring her.
She relaxed at once, parting her legs, and he wasted no time in burying his face there. He pressed a kiss to her mound, his soft hair brushing against the insides of her thighs as he caressed her hips. When his tongue flicked over her sensitive nub, she gasped, fingers tightening on his hair. He licked at her, teasing softlyat first and then exerting greater pressure as dizzying pleasure overtook her.
She forgot modesty. Forgot to worry about the uncertainties awaiting her beyond this room. Instead, she surrendered to him. He made a low sound of enjoyment that rumbled through her core and radiated outward, his tongue still playing over her, alternating between quick, light licks and long, slow explorations. It was the most divine sensation she had ever known. Little wonder he had all the ladies in London falling at his feet. If he was capable of this…
His lips closed around her, and he sucked.
A noise fled her, half gasp, half moan. The wicked, wicked man. He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting hers as his mouth continued to deliciously torment. And then he found a part of her that was deliriously sensitive, using his teeth to lightly nip. Something inside her came apart. Her crisis took her quickly. She stiffened beneath his tender onslaught as wave after wave of bliss washed over her.
He stayed with her all the while, continuing to lick and lave and suck. His fingers parted her folds, slicking her wetness up and down as his mouth worked at her highly stimulated flesh. There was a new sort of pressure, different from his tongue, and she realized it was his finger, poised at her entrance. Did he intend to…?
Yes, he did.
In the next breath, he sank a finger inside her, all while sucking at her clitoris. The sudden fullness sent a sharp rush of desire through Rhiannon. It was almost painful, the pleasure, as he moved in and out of her, the wet sounds of her own desire echoing in the hush of the night. It was too much. She twisted beneath him, desperate for more, seeking, searching. The crescendo within her built again to a fevered pitch. Her bodyseized, and she lost control. The pleasure this time was every bit as violent as the last, wringing a moan from her.
“God,” he murmured. “You taste so sweet, and you’re so wet, so perfect.”
