Meredith arched into his palm as he shifted his fingers to the front of her body. Sighing with pleasure, she pushed her full breast into his hand. His fingers were teasing and exciting, but the silk of her gown was a barrier that frustrated her. Hastily she tugged at the low-cut bodice, yanking it away along with the thin chemise, exposing herself to the waist.
His eyes traveled over her bared flesh and she could see the raw need in his eyes. He buried his face against her throat, kissing his way downward. She leaned forward, and he took her bare nipple between his lips.
The sensation was almost more than she could stand. She clutched at him, clasping his head tighter. The tip of his tongue circled lazily, tasting, teasing. Then he placed the entire nipple inside his mouth and sucked. Hard. Then slowly. Then faster.
Meredith struggled to breathe. It felt sogood.The scalding touch of his mouth and tongue made her shudder with longing. She squirmed against him restlessly, acutely aware of a primitive ache in her, a desperate need to fill the emptiness inside.
He encouraged her passion. Pulling his mouth away, he bit playfully at her throat and earlobe.
“Move your legs so I can lift your skirts,” Trevor whispered sensually in her ear.
Blindly Meredith followed his instructions, hardly blushing at all when he pushed aside her undergarments and placed his hand between her thighs, on her bare flesh.
With agonizing slowness he circled the most sensitive, intimate part of her, his fingers teasing and tangling in the curls of her womanhood. Meredith’s pulses leaped as desire, wild and passionate, lanced through her.
Her hand came up between them, pressing against his chest. She could feel her body yielding to him, submitting to the mastery of his caresses. A part of her rebelled at this easy acquiescence, but she quickly shut it down.
Ever since her wedding night, she had known there was more pleasure to be discovered when making love. Trevor held the key to that pleasure, and for the moment seemed most intent on sharing it with her. She would be a fool to turn away from him now.
His clever, questing fingers urged her thighs farther apart. Parting the thick folds of skin, Trevor brushed against her swollen center, then slowly slid one finger deep inside her. Heat blossomed in every part of her body.
Meredith gave a strangled moan and turned her face to his for a kiss—a deep-throated, full-bodied kiss. The glide of his tongue in her mouth felt heavenly. She thrust her hips mindlessly forward and he stroked and probed until she was frantic.
Suddenly Meredith felt the escalating tension begin to crest and break. She arched upward with a keening groan, and Trevor kissed her full on the lips, swallowing her cries of pleasure.
That was it! The mystery of her wedding night had been solved in a most delicious, delectable manner. He continued to stroke her as the shudders subsided, almost as if he were calming and soothing her passion. She smiled lazily.
Drifting on the lingering swell of pleasure, Meredith sprawled inelegantly in her husband’s lap, until she noticed he had withdrawn his hands and was trying unsuccessfully to right the skirt of her evening gown.
Gathering her courage, Meredith opened her eyes. Trevor’s expression was guarded, but there was a glint of masculine pride in his eyes, the knowing glance of a man who has just pleased a woman.
It had been truly wonderful, a remarkable sensation superior to any other she had known. And yet still she was not completely satisfied. On their wedding night only Trevor had achieved this bliss. Tonight she had been the benefactor. The throbbing, pulsing erection poking insistently against her hip let Meredith know the marquess had not yet found fulfillment.
What heights of passion could they reach if they both experienced this ultimate release together? She could scarcely imagine, but Meredith decided she was quite eager to try.
With a sultry smile she tentatively reached for him, setting her hand on his muscular thigh. Imitating his actions, she began a tantalizing caress with her fingertips, drawing small, tight circles that inched forward toward his groin. “Please, allow me—”
The marquess groaned as if in pain, clasped her wrist, and pulled her hand away, while trying to stand up at the same time. Since she was lying in his lap, it was nearly impossible.
“I am fine, Meredith. There is no need for any of that.” He practically pushed her off his lap.
Slowly, Meredith straightened. Her body tingled, still riding on the currents pleasure he had given her, yet her mind was beginning to clear.
“Why?” she asked simply.
“ ’Tis getting late.” He turned his head away, and she felt the sigh he tried to suppress. “Perhaps it would be better if we spoke in the morning.”
“I do not plan on doing much talking tonight.” She reached again for him. “Or listening.”
He stiffened and lowered his head. “I am rather tired.”
She sucked in a breath. He was rejecting her, deliberately turning away from her passionate overture. Color flooded her face. But she would not look away or bow her head. He would succeed in humiliating her only if she allowed it. She had nothing to be ashamed of, had no reason to feel embarrassed or distressed by what they had just done, by what she wanted to continue doing.
For heaven sakes, they were married. To each other!
He was looking at her now, staring down at her with a wry expression. She noted a flush still lingered on his cheekbones. Her palm itched to cradle his face, to run her thumb along the seam of his sensuous lips, to tease and tantalize him with mindless passion.
A shiver of goose bumps flashed along her arms and neck, and Meredith realized with a start she was still bared to her waist. This wanton state of undress should have embarrassed her, but somehow it felt wickedly right.
