She pushed him back against the chaise, straddled his lap, and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Her hands shook, less steady than before, yet she enjoyed peeling the fabric aside to reveal his skin. He was leaner than she’d guessed, muscles defined not by labor but by tension. She pressed her lips to the base of his throat, licked the salt from his skin.
He groaned, hands finding her waist, fingers digging into the silk of her dress. He pulled her closer, but she resisted, using her position to maintain control.
“Patience,” she whispered, drawing a line down his chest with her tongue.
He exhaled, a mix of laughter and a moan. “You’ll be the end of me.”
“That’s the point,” she said, giving him a teasing nip.
She shifted her weight, pressing her hips into his, pleased to find him already hard beneath the layers of fabric. She ground against him, slow at first, then with increasing pressure. He gripped her tighter but did not try to dominate.
“Are you going to undress me,” he asked, “or leave me longing?”
She grinned. “I thought you liked puzzles.”
“I prefer solutions.”
She stood abruptly and offered her hand. He took it, rose, and followed her to the writing desk against the far wall. She swept aside the chair and perched on the edge of the desk, her legs dangling, silk pooling around her ankles. He stood between her knees, uncertain, until she drew his face to hers and kissed him again, this time softer, deeper. His hands roamed her back, seeking the closures of her gown.
“You’ll need to be careful,” she warned. “It’s a favorite.”
“I’m always careful.”
She doubted that but let him proceed. He found the hooks, unfastening them one by one, and slid the fabric down her shoulders. It caught at her bust, and he paused, the gentleman warring with his instincts. She laughed, released the final clasp herself, and shrugged the dress to her waist.
His eyes widened for an instant, and a rush of triumph surged through her.
She pulled him close, guided his hands to her breasts, and whispered, “Show me how you’d solve me.”
He obliged, cradling her with a reverence that bordered on worship. His fingers traced circles around her nipples, teasing them before he bent down to take one in his mouth. She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back, seeking more.
He alternated between gentle caresses and teasing bites, each touch drawing a cry from her lips. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close. When he nipped her again, she retaliated, pulling his hair, tilting his head back, and kissing him fiercely.
She slid off the desk with unexpected strength, pushing him back, and turned to face the fire. “On your knees,” she commanded, her voice low.
He hesitated, just long enough for her to wonder if he would refuse. Then he knelt, pressing his face to the small of her back, his hands stroking down her spine to the curve of her hips.
Bracing herself against the mantle, she shifted her dress up, revealing herself to him. He gripped her thighs, strong yet trembling, and traced his tongue along her slowly and thoroughly. A groan escaped her, louder than intended, followed by a growl from his chest.
Heat flooded her, gathering at her core. She noticed everything—the quiver of her legs, the raggedness of her breath, the way her fingers dug into the mantle. He alternated between soft and punishing, bringing her to the brink before pulling back, prompting her to curse him in Latin.
How had she gone so long without a mans touch?
He laughed, delight shining in his eyes. “You’re a scholar as well as a hedonist.”
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
He did not.
When she climaxed, it was a force that surprised her, leaving her sagging against the mantle, nearly losing her footing. He caught her, pulling her onto the Persian carpet in front of the fire.
Straddling him once more, her hair wild, she worked the buttons of his trousers. He tried to assist, but she slapped his hands away, freeing him and marveling at the sight of him unadorned and vulnerable.
She lowered herself onto him in one confident motion.
He gasped.
It was the first time he had truly lost control, and she reveled in it, riding him hard and fast, the friction welcome after so long without.
