The rush of terror that thought spurred was swiftly displaced as Gregory fully consumed her mouth. Soft like velvet but hard like—
He wielded that hot flesh like a master swordsman playing with a page. With the tip of his tongue, he drew languid circles about Daria’s, guiding her. Teaching her the way. And as she learned the dance, his attentions took on a sharper intensity. The lash of that skilled flesh against hers sent her careening.
“Now, open for me in every way.” His ragged voice was a break in his usual calm. The faint thread of desperation she recognized so well from her own suffering. Gregory guided her more fully onto his lap, bringing her down so she was spread wide, her knees hugging his tight waist. Her skirts and cloak rucked about her waist.
And the feel of him…
His length, hard like steel, pressed against her womanhood.
The rock and sway of the carriage set a forbidden rhythm that centered Daria on a pressure throbbing there, as exquisite as it was excruciating.
Gregory deepened his hold about her nape; his fingers bit into her skin.
His breath came fast and frenzied as Daria’s. The evidence of his passion, as real as her own, threatened to make her weep.
“Yes, Daria.” His praise came in a sharp rasp against her neck. “Just like that.”
At some point, in a bid to ease the agonizing ache, she’d begun pumping herself against his length.
Mortified heat blazed across her cheeks. Wanting to hide her shame, she buried her head in the curve of his shoulder.
“Uh-uh, my brave Daria,” he cajoled. “Don’t hide from me, and do not deny yourself the release your whole body needs. You were made for this. You’ve been waiting for this.”
Moisture dampened her brow. Her senses sharpened painfully. She wanted to ask what he meant. To have him explain it for her. But words wouldn’t come. They couldn’t.
Gregory’s mouth claimed hers for another all-consuming kiss just as he cupped the globes of her buttocks in his strong fingers. He drew her tongue deep and sucked hard.
An unbearable pressure built up inside. Desperate for surcease, she sucked viciously at his tongue.
His primordial groan twined with her sorrowful moan. Gregory shot a hand up and struck his fist into the ceiling twice.
“You are going to come, Daria,” he rasped, “and it is going to be bloody wonderful.”
Befogged with desire, she felt the bite of his fingers gripping the underside of her buttocks. He tipped her up and drove his hips against hers.
Daria stiffened. Every muscle coiled. The world narrowed until there was nothing but sensation, her body drawing tight beneath it, too much, too fast…and then, all at once, it broke.
She screamed his name. “Gregory!”
With his mouth, he swallowed the refrain she continued to echo, and Daria came. Just as he’d promised. Over and over. All-consuming waves of surrender swept over her, sucked her under, until Gregory rang every last drop of pleasure from her quaking body.
A final, dying gasp left her lips.
Sweating, her body shaking, Daria collapsed, replete, into her husband’s arms. The wild thump of his heart under her ear eased her descent back to earth.
And as the fog of passion lifted, only one thought existed.
This is bad.
Chapter 13
After Argyll lifted his slumbering bride into his arms and carried her through the south-side entrance of his club and up to his chambers, he laid her upon the heavy carved tester bed. The French-style feather mattress scarcely dipped beneath the addition of her spare frame.
She rolled onto her left side.
He braced for her to wake.
But his wife slumbered like the dead she was all too fond of speaking of.
