He bit her arse, his arm about her waist the only thing keeping her from falling forwards from the delicious shock of it. He removed his teeth, but a tingle remained on her flesh, his mark lingering.
“John…” Her fingers tangled in the strings to her stays. She was desperate to be bare before him. Aching to allow him access to every inch of her body.
He brushed her hands away and removed the garment. Even her thin chemise felt too tight, and quickly that was gone, as well. He smoothed his hands up over the backs of her thighs, over her bottom and around her hips as he stood.
He pressed against her, the silk of his pantaloons cool against her flushed skin.
His erection hard against her softness.
Running his palms up her belly, he cupped her heavy breasts, pulling her back closer to his front. He dropped his head and nibbled on the curve of her neck.
“What you do to me.” John plumped her breasts up, squeezing. “I can’t decide which bit of you I like best. Your bosom is most definitely in contention for that honor.”
Netta bit the inside of her cheek. Even at a moment like this he still could make her laugh. Even when there were no games to play, he brought her joy.
“Most men prefer my bum.” She arched her back, pushing back against his length.
He pinched her nipple and growled. “I am not by nature a jealous man, but now is not the time to speak of other men to me. Besides,” he said, skimming one hand over her abdomen to cup her mons, “there is another part that surpasses both your breasts and arse.” He slid his middle finger between her crease and dipped into her channel.
She shivered. “Yes, I’m quite fond of that part of my body, too.” Especially when it was in his hands. No man had ever made her feel as much as John. And she was beginning to worry that no other man ever would.
He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and her head dropped back on his shoulder. “I meant your mind, Netta. Your devious, determined, sweet little brain.” He added another finger and continued slowly fucking her with his hand. “That’s my favorite bit of all.”
Pulling from her, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed. He peeled her slippers and stockings off, then removed his own pants and boots faster than any mid-scene costume change Netta had ever witnessed. He pulled a condom from his bed side table, tossed it on the bed, and crawled over her.
His knees bracketed her hips, his palms digging into the coverlet on either side of her head. He lowered until his chest brushed her own and dragged his nose along her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, like she was the finest rose in the garden.
“How did a man ever get so fortunate in the thief who stole his blunt?” He slid one of his knees between her legs, then the other, and knelt before her. With his hands at the back of her thighs, he held her open and stared down at her sex.
He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “So damn lucky.”
Netta’s breath caught in her lungs as he scooted down and lowered his head. With his thumbs, he spread her outer lips and feasted upon her.
Netta gripped the metal lattice headboard and held on for dear life. If she combined every amazing sensation she’d ever felt it still did not equal the miracle of John’s mouth on her quim.
The liquid sounds were obscene, and she reveled in them, opening her legs wider. Her hips rocked into his face, sweat beading over her skin. John used his lips, teeth, and tongue until she was but a mewling, shaking wreck.
He pulled away.
“What? No!” Netta glared at him.
He tied the condom over his straining length then placed one of her legs over his shoulder. “I am a selfish man. When you climax, I want to be buried inside of you, feel it squeezing my cock. I don’t want to wait a moment more.”
“Yet you weren’t so impatient as to forego the linen.” But Netta couldn’t be vexed. Not when John was gliding inside of her, stretching her walls inch by heavenly inch. With one last flex of his hips, he filled her fully, and she felt a pinch deep inside her womb.
His eyes had deepened, glittering so darkly Netta couldn’t look away. Whatever this relationship was between her and John, it had to be more than a causal bit of bed sport. He couldn’t look at her such without feeling the bone-deep longing that held her captive.
John stroked back, dragging against her nerve endings, and plunged back in. “The more I’m inside you, the harder I find it to pull out before I spend.” He leaned forwards, pressing her leg higher.
She moaned, and he captured the sound with his mouth. “Christ, how I dream about spilling my seed deep inside of you, feeling your silky channel milk my naked flesh dry.”
The hair on his chest scraped against her nipples, the sensation so sublime it almost hurt.
He tugged her hands from the headrest and pressed them into the bed above her head, lacing his fingers through hers. “How I’d love to fuck you without consequence, the only concern we’d have was how many times I can bring you to your crisis before we both lose consciousness.”
She turned her head to the side, unable to look upon him a moment more. She might no longer have the ability to leave the country, but that didn’t mean this relationship of theirs stood a chance of lasting. She still had a sister to rescue through less than legal means. He was still an earl, bound by an aristocrat’s sense of honor.
Unless…
