His lips twitched at her gentle expletive. Like everything about Evie, it was unique and adorable. And contrary to her intention, pointing out the naughtiness of what they were about to do only made him harder. His erection was clearly visible, a thick ridge that marred the smooth placket of his trousers.
“All the better to prove my point,” he said.
“What is your point, pray tell?” She scowled. “That you’re a troglodyte?”
If the shoe fits.
He reached between her crossed arms, grabbing the neckline of her shift. He jerked downward with concentrated force, and the sound of ripping linen was surprisingly satisfying. Perhaps there was a bit of a cave dweller in him, after all.
“James Harrington.”
She sounded genuinely shocked…although not as offended as she was pretending to be. The bright gold flecks in her eyes and roses in her cheeks betrayed that she was enjoying this new game. Then there was the way she was covering her exposed décolletage. Instead of shielding her breasts, she was cupping them like a bloody offering. When he spotted a plump pink nipple nudging between her slim fingers, his mouth watered.
“I cannot believe you ruined my chemise,” she scolded.
Her raised chin and coy challenge tugged on his cock. Energy crackled between them, a palpable sense of excitement. James marveled at what he was discovering about his little minx of a bride…and about himself. Primal heat sizzled through his blood. The sense of freedom was exhilarating—like stripping off one’s cravat after a long day.
He yanked her into his arms. “It seems you need convincing that I am more than a gentleman.”
She didn’t push him away. Instead, her arms wound around his neck. Her tits pressed against his chest even as her smile curled against his heart.
“Why don’t you show me?” she whispered.
Devil and damn.
Crushing his mouth to hers, he dragged her down to the tiles.
Chapter Thirteen
“Oh, merciful petals,” Evie gasped. “This feels…strange.”
“Ride me, my love.”
Out of gentlemanly consideration, James had arranged for his wife to be on top. Truth be told, he benefited from this position as much as she did. He barely felt the tiles of the greenhouse beneath his back, so captivated was he by his very own Lady Godiva. Sunlight, diffused through the glass ceiling, turned her tumbling hair to spun gold. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she slowly screwed herself onto his cock. Her solemn, nearly studious expression jolted him with a wicked fantasy.
One of these days, I’m going to make love to Evie with her spectacles on.
For now, he enjoyed his unobstructed view of her big brown eyes as she slid down his staff. Her careful pace beaded his brow with sweat, and the feel of her hot, tight pussy taking him inch by inch was an excruciating pleasure. The sight of her bouncing tits was an added stimulation. Aiming his gaze lower, he watched avidly as her petals spread to accommodate his girth. Because of her petite build, she looked stuffed full even though he was only halfway in. He tightened his grip on her lush hip, guiding her down.
“All the way, Evie,” he ordered. “You can do it. Take every inch of my cock.”
He could tell she liked his naughty vocabulary, and he wished he had used it earlier. He’d never been particularly vocal during the act, and with his wife, he’d had a vague notion that he ought to protect her delicate sensibilities. Yet there was nothing delicate about the way Evie was attempting to impale herself upon his rod…praise God.
“You’re so big,” she whimpered.
From another woman, he would have assumed the praise was practiced flirtation. Yet Evie’s sincerity, coupled with her wide-eyed expression, nearly unmanned him. He’d never felt bigger—never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. His sweet and unpredictable countess, who was tightening up due to nerves and the novelty of the position.
“Your pussy is lovely and snug,” he said. “Perhaps this will help.”
Releasing her hip, he reached for her downy blonde thatch. Finding her hidden nub, he circled with his thumb. She wriggled and gasped, but he kept diddling her until he felt a gush of liquid silk.
“That’s nice,” he said huskily. “So nice and wet. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Oh, James…”
She made a sound, half-moan, half-sigh, as she sank down to the hilt. By Jove. He was engulfed by her lush heat. When her pussy gave a voluptuous squeeze, he bit back an oath and willed himself not to come. Not yet. Not now, when they were exploring this new variation of intimacy.
Evie’s knees dug into his hips as she tried to find her rhythm. She’d always been a quick study, and in no time at all, she figured out how to drive him mad. With her cornsilk waves tumbling down her back, her golden-brown eyes bright with desire, she rode him like a goddess of sensuality. She was fire and rain, heat and wetness, the priceless gem in this jewel box of glass.
