Moving on, she sampled the hard underside of his chin. His throat bobbed as she licked and nuzzled, making her way down the hard slope of his shoulders to the strong, hair-whorled planes of his chest. She circled one flat nipple with her tongue. At his sharp intake of breath, she closed her lips, sucking gently until he groaned.
"You like that." She didn't bother to hide the smugness in her voice.
"Aye, love," he said, his voice gravelly, "almost as much as I like suckling your pretty breasts. May I?"
It wasn't an unreasonable request. Her pulse kicked up a notch at the fact that itwasa request—one she had the power to grant or deny. She slid up along his body, sighing as her taut nipples dragged against the masculine mat of hair, feeding her excitement and his too, if the flames in his eyes were any indication. With her knees bracing his chest, she leaned forward and presented a breast to his lips.
"Suck," she whispered.
A guttural sound escaped him as he did as she bade. He took her nipple in a fierce kiss, one that blazed heat straight between her legs. When his teeth grazed the sensitive tip, she whimpered. Honey flooded her pussy as he flicked in steady rhythm. She felt herself melting… yet she was supposed to be in control. She drew back, panting.
Raw desire glowed in his eyes. "Give me your other tit. I want to lick and suck you all over."
"No. That is enough for now," she managed. "I'm supposed to be doing the exploring, remember?"
His arms corded, the muscles flexing. He was so strong—he had only to let go of the headboard to take her. She was so aroused that a part of her wanted him to assume control. Wanted him to flip her onto her back, mount her, vanquish her emptiness with his rampant shaft…
As if somehow sensing her ambivalence, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He kept his hands clenched on the wood. "Go on, then," he said.
She scooted back, trying to hide her ruffled state by resuming her perusal of his splendid form. He offered a wealth of distractions, and all of them ratcheted up her lust. Her breath puffed quick and hot between her lips as her fingers bumped over the taut ridges of his abdomen. Following the sensual trail of hair that bisected his belly, she made her way to his waistband. She slid her palm over the tented placket of his trousers, and molten heat gushed from her core.
He was so big, so hard—so much a man.
"You have this effect on me. A smile from you, a touch"—he grimaced with pleasure as she squeezed—"God, Marianne, I lose my head where you're concerned."
She found the hidden buttons, unfastened them. With a swift yank, she freed him from the layers of wool and linen, the muscles of her sex quivering as she beheld his bold erection from the springy dark hair at the thick base, up the long, veined shaft, all the way to the proud dome. In the past, she'd never particularly appreciated this part of the male anatomy. With Thomas, she'd been too shy to look or touch. With Draven… a remnant of the old humiliation surfaced, ugly ripples that distorted her desire.
"Sweetheart, do you want to stop?"
She met her lover's gaze and saw desire there, clean and pure. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to fear. "No," she said softly, "not unless you want me to."
"Hardly. But…"—the air hissed between his teeth as she curled her fingers around his girth—"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."
Concerned for her, even at this juncture. 'Twas so veryAmbrosethat it made her smile. Smile—and get aroused all over again. The heady surge of power swirled more potently than any aphrodisiac because it was tempered by trust. By the choice she was making to take pleasure at her will.
And what her will demanded was to give Ambrose Kent more bliss than he'd ever had. To have him remember this night forever, no matter what the future held in store. No matter if she didn't quite believe herself worthy of this magnificent male beast. Perhaps one day she could overcome the demons of her past. Tonight, it mattered naught.
Because tonight Ambrose was hers to pleasure.
She knelt between his thighs, continued to stroke him lightly. "Tell me what you like."
"I like what you're doing now." His heavy-lidded eyes told her it was the truth.
"Surely there is more. What have your other lovers done for you?"Whatever they did, I'll do better."Tell me your desires," she said throatily.
"I like kissing you, tasting you," he murmured. "Especially between your legs."
Her sex grew damper at the memory of his skilled tongue, the voracious enjoyment he took in licking her there. Apparently, he was thinking the same thing for fluid leaked from the slit in his cockhead, slickening her grasp and making him groan.
"I like that too," she said, "but we're talking about you. Your pleasure."
A brief hesitation. "It's not a question I've been asked before."
"Never?" she said in surprise.
"I suppose my partner's satisfaction has come first in the past." When she continued to look at him, stupefied, he muttered, "It's not as if there have been dozens of women."
"Not dozens?" she said as casually as she could.
