He explored every inch of her mouth, taking his time, making her feel like she was someone worth getting to know. Her scalp prickled, her core ached. The sensations coursing her body were so unknown her mind couldn’t determine if her discomfort was from unmet need or shock at his technique.
Never had Mr. Bonner kissed her like this.
“Colleen?” he murmured against her lips.
“Yes, my lord?” She chased his mouth, but he tugged her head back.
“If I call you Colleen, you’d damn well better call me Max.” He slid his hand from her back and down her thigh. The warmth from his palm penetrated her skirt and petticoat, but it was nothing like the scalding heat when he reached under her skirts and touched bare flesh. He skimmed back up her leg. Without anything between them.
Sweat beaded at her temple. Closing her eyes, she drowned in stimulation. Her breasts felt full, achy. And each stroke of his fingers on her inner thigh sent a longing pulsing through her core. She shifted closer, tried to open her legs wider.
“I’m waiting.” He brushed his fingertips over the crease where thigh met her most intimate flesh. He drifted so tantalizing close, before pulling away.
Colleen blinked. “So am I.” Sutton had already brought her more pleasure in two minutes in his carriage than in her entire marriage. He couldn’t stop now. “What is it you’re waiting for?”
“To hear my name from your lips.” He stared down at those lips, and without giving her a chance to comply, bridged the space and took them for another searing kiss. “Such sweet,” he nipped at her bottom lip, “fuckable,” his tongue sparred with hers, “lips.”
Moisture pooled between her legs at his rough language. She’d never heard such a word coming from a toff. Something else that was highly improper and that she enjoyed more than she ought. Her lips curved, and she mumbled “Max” against his mouth.
Wrapping his hand in her hair, he feasted on her until Colleen grew dizzy. She tried to keep up, tried to match him thrust for thrust, but the slick slide of his tongue, the rough caress of his beard, all made it impossible to concentrate. Sunlight warmed her side, and she gave a passing thought to any witnesses that might see them. But it was a small window, and they were bumping awfully fast down the streets. Her body convinced her mind that it was worth the risk.
The hand on her thigh homed in on its target. She gasped, taking more of his tongue, and her knees snapped closed on instinct. Fortunately, instinct couldn’t overcome the barrier of his hips. She was left open, exposed to his touch.
Max eased a thick finger between her swollen folds, and her muscles clutched him eagerly. He pushed deep inside, his digit sliding easily. Dropping her head back, she blinked at the carriage ceiling. She rocked against his hand and took what he gave her. How was it possible that Max with his one finger could make her feel more than relations with her husband ever had?
He dragged his finger from her body and slipped through her slick lower lips to the little bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. “So wet for me.” He circled his finger around her nub, and she stopped breathing.
“Do that again.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Hmmm.” He palmed her outer lips, a nice feeling to be sure, but not what she needed. “For someone so prim and proper, you seem to have forgotten the niceties.” Burying his face below her ear, he inhaled, and sucked her earlobe into his hot mouth. “How about a ‘please Max’? In fact, I’d very much like to hear you say ‘please Max, make me come.’”
If saying please would get her what she wanted, Colleen had no objections. “Please, Max, make me come.” Any embarrassment she might feel at saying those words was well hidden by the flush that already engulfed her from head to toe.
He pressed his finger past her walls, sinking deep into her core. With his thumb, he circled her nub, the pressure a light tease. “Will you say my name, Colleen? When I bring you to crisis, will you scream your pleasure, let all of London know just who is in here satisfying you?”
Slapping her palms to the carriage ceiling, she pressed against the upholstered top, trying to push her body closer into his touch. “Oh God.”
He smiled against her jaw. “I’ll answer to that name, too, if you wish.”
The carriage took a hard turn, and she swore the only thing keeping her on his lap was the finger pinned inside of her. He started a pattern, two hard thrusts followed by a leisurely circle of his thumb. Her muscles bunched tighter, her chest heaved. She was close, so deliciously close, she … just … needed …
Max increased the pressure with his thumb, swirling at the same time with his thrusting finger.
Her spine arched, her nails dug into the cloth canopy. All her air was sucked from her and she grew dizzy. Her heart beat once, twice, and she flew apart, pulse after pulse of pleasure flooding through her body from her fingers to her toes. She rode the waves for as long as she could, Max’s beguiling fingers never ceasing. A long moan tore from her throat.
Wrung out, she slumped forwards, her body molding around Max’s torso like a wet rag over a rock. She drifted in a haze, feeling nothing but her lower body twitching periodically and the soft kisses Max pressed against her brow.
The sounds of London made themselves heard. Their carriage turned from a cacophony of noise into a quieter side street.
Max brushed his fingers against her thigh. “The sounds you make at your completion … like a siren’s call. I didn’t think I could get any harder.” One side of his falls dropped against her skirt, and he moved his hand to unbutton the other side.
The carriage slowed, and Colleen pushed herself up and looked out the window. They rolled past a neighboring building she recognized and came to a stop in front of The Black Rose.
The Black Rose. Her place of employment. A place where she’d managed to keep herself removed from the sin that went on inside those walls. Where she’d held firm to her morals.
Until today.
She couldn’t say she regretted it. Her body was still too flushed with pleasure to acknowledge remorse. But she knew it would come.
