“The little death,” Marcus murmured. That intensity she’d seen in his eyes earlier today had returned. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But did you like it? Did you enjoy it?”
Emily shook her head. “No, Marcus.” Upon seeing his brows furrow, she added, “I found it to be the most phenomenal, spectacularly invigorating experience of my life. Is it only possible to achieve with another person?” She wondered yet again if she could achieve a similar experience with her own hands. Obviously, she couldn’t use her mouth…
And she wondered, “Is it the same for you?”
The Mentula
Marcus was suddenly keenly aware that he lay in her bed wearing nothing but his breeches, which felt tighter than they had a few minutes earlier. For such a learned girl, she had an abundance of questions.
As her calm and quiet questions echoed around in his brain, he envisioned her small hands, touching herself, pleasing herself. His throat went dry again, this time for an entirely different reason. She certainly knew how to draw his mind away from his nightmares.
Emily had been raised a lady. She’d attended more balls than he could imagine, sitting on the fringes, watching her peers dancing, flirting. The poor girl had known she was missing out on something, and she’d attempted to discover it in books.
“I don’t know if it’s the same for me,” he answered honestly in a raspy sounding voice. The darkness invited intimacies he’d never thought to discuss with a woman, let alone the woman he was about to marry. “And, yes. You can experience it on your own. But I warn you…” He watched her closely. He wanted to see her eyes when he said his next words. “It’s considered to be very, very wicked.”
Ah, yes. Her pupils flared and a flush crept into her face. “I…” She turned her head away. “I tried it… but I think I was doing something wrong. It wasn’t the same.”
How was it possible she could charm him so easily? Marcus lay back again and folded his hands behind his head. In doing so, he noticed her gaze fall to his chest. She licked her lips, and he couldn’t help but remember the feel of her mouth on him earlier today.
The counterpane and sheets hid the result of that memory.
“Show me what you did.” Only a bastard would dare a lady this way. Would she? He never quite knew what to expect from her. The rapid pounding of his heart surprised him. The room seemed much smaller as he anticipated her response.
She shook her head though.
“What happened? What did you feel?” he goaded her. If she didn’t do something, he just might. He slid one of his hands beneath the sheet and wrapped his fingers around his girth.
Her eyes followed his motion.
“It helps to imagine…” He’d help her understand.
“What are you imagining right now?” Her question drove him to slide his fist downward.
“I’m not alone.” How had they come to this? How did she do it? “I’m watchingyou, listening to your voice, wondering how you touched yourself when you were alone. I’m imagining the sounds coming from your lips as you pinch and squeeze your own flesh.”
One timid hand crept up her night rail, past her belly to her sternum. She’d done nothing yet, but her arousal was more than apparent beneath the thin material of her gown. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched.
“I’m not touching you. And yet you are stimulated.” Marcus could not remove his eyes from her for anything in the world.
“It’s different. I’m not alone right now. I’m watchingyou.” Her voice strained. He could see the battle she waged inside herself. Modesty verses passion.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered her.
Her lids fell shut.
“Passion is in the mind.” He realized that Emily Goodnight had lived most of her life in her mind. “Now.” He slid his own hand upward in a slow, drawn-out motion. “How did it feel, when I took you in my mouth?” Marcus swirled the bead of moisture that had escaped around the tip and then pushed his cock up into his fist.
“Many believe it is a disease.” She’d opened her eyes again. Thinking. Where would she take them now?
“But not all cultures have always been of the same mind. The ancient Greeks did not. They had a word for it:anaplan.” She dropped her hand, all her attention now focused on what he was doing.
“Where would you learn something like that?” Marcus ought to slow his hand. End this oddly seductive discussion, but her curious eyes watching him did little to dampen his arousal.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
“I discovered the most amazing collection in Lord Smythe’s library. Books he obtained on his travels,” she explained evenly, as though they were discussing some literary tome, all the while intent upon the motion of his hand. At her words, Marcus imagined her hiding in an altogether different library. He needed to stop, but her hungry eyes drove him further.
“Can I see it?” she whispered. “May I watch?”
