In one fluid motion, I rolled us over, pressing her gently beneath me.
I needed her.
Now.
I palmed her freed breast, my fingers spreading, kneading.
“Good Lord,” I growled, my other hand fumbling with her skirts, clawing through the endless layers. “Where are you beneath all this damn fabric?”
Olivia laughed, breathless, arching into my touch, helping me frantically search.
I cursed under my breath as I yanked at bone stays, hooks, layers of silk, and lace.
I needed skin.
I needed her.
Finally—
Muslin.
The only barrier between me and the soft heat of her core.
I dipped my head, gripping the flimsy fabric between my teeth, and ripped it away.
Olivia gasped, her thighs trembling, her scent thick, musky, intoxicating.
My head snapped up, as the heady fragrance of her arousal filled my lungs.
“Christ, woman.” My voice was hoarse, raw, possessive.
I slid my hands up her thighs, inhaling her deep, the sound bordering on a growl.
“I’ve missed the way you smell.”
And tonight?—
I was going to ruin her for anyone else.
Her skirts were still bunched around her waist, silk pooling like the wreckage of a woman undone, but I didn’t care.
I was exactly where I needed to be.
I settled between her thighs, my breath hot against her bare skin, my lips brushing the sensitive inside of her leg.
A soft moan escaped her lips as I dragged one torturous finger up her slick heat.
She was drenched for me.
“Mine.” My voice was a dark growl, vibrating against her aching flesh.
Her hips arched into my touch, desperate, wanton.
I slipped two fingers inside her, feeling her tightness wrap around me, her body pulling me deeper as my thumb circled her clit in maddening strokes.
“All yours,” Olivia whimpered, her breath hitching, her hands clenching the fabric beneath her.
Fucking perfect.
