She clung to him, her fingers grasping the short hair on his head. Her breasts ached with need. The constant pulsing of her sex begging to be filled drove Delia mad with need.
The soft touch of his lips on the sensitive skin of her neck caused her to cry out. It had been ages since she’d dared to allow a man to touch her, but it had never felt like this. Like he was setting fire to her very soul.
This was what she’d feared when he’d first saved her in the ballroom. A woman was sure to lose herself to a man like the Earl of March.
With just one kiss, Delia was absolutely certain she was always meant to be his.
Chapter Ten
Soft, pliant lips molded to his, like they were made for him. Hunt wasn’t an overly romantic man, but damn it, he believed they were. What other explanation would there be for her to taste so addicting to him?
Hunt stumbled over his discarded cravat, waistcoat, and shirt, his shaking fingers unlacing the laces of her traveling dress, as their never-ending kiss clouded his better judgment. A small voice questioned if he was taking advantage of her vulnerability. But before he could end the madness raging between them, his hellion pulled him closer.
Her soft hands gently massaged his neck, as she pressed her firm breasts to his bare chest. She was in his arms. He couldn’t stop kissing her for anything in the kingdom, not even if the king himself burst into the room and demanded it.
The faded blue traveling dress hung off her shapely arms. Kissing his lips one last time, she stepped back, her eyes still slightly red from earlier, but there was no hesitation in her dark brown gaze.
She stood in front of Hunt like the hellion she was and let the dress fall. Delia wore nothing but stays and a shift, her breasts spilling out from her undergarments.
“Come here, Delia,” he demanded, beckoning her with one finger.
Stepping out of the dress, she closed the distance between them. Hunt pulled her to him with one hand, his other opening the fastenings of her stays. He began undoing the laces, slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
When he was done, he slid the stays down her bare arms, leaving her in nothing but a thin shift.
Her eyes roamed his bare chest, her shaking fingers reaching out to touch him.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but the Belle was right,” she said, giving him a playful smile.
“About what?” His hand pulled at the delicate ribbon of her simple white chemise, revealing more of her voluptuous breasts.
The last thing Hunt wanted to do was talk about the Belle and that blastedRake Review. The only thing he craved at that moment was Adelia St. George.
“You are magnificent.” Her fingers trailed down his chest, teasing the fine hairs of his abdomen.
He kissed her and scooped her up into his arms. She laughed against his lips as he carried her to the large four poster bed against the wall.
Hunt placed her on her feet, bending down to take the thin fabric of her shift in his hands. He lifted it slowly up, revealing smooth brown skin that he desperately needed to kiss. The thin fabric grazed against hard nipples before he gently pulled it over her head and flung it to land on the chaise lounge they had abandoned.
She stood in front of him wearing nothing but her drawers.
A finger trailed around one nipple, then the other. “I think you are the magnificent one,” he said, as he gazed down at her.
She was a work of art, with full breasts, round hips, and a defined waist. Delia wasn’t one of those petite women who didn’t enjoy a meal. She was rounded in all the right places, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Delia pulled down her drawers, playfully letting them fall. She bit her bottom lip as she sat on the bed, a queen on her throne.
Bare and glorious.
Hunt closed the small gap between them, standing in front of her. His hand closed around the nape of her neck, massaging gently.
“Take me out.”
Deft hands undid the flaps of his breeches, releasing his cock.
Her sharp intake of breath nearly caused him to smile with pride, but he did not. He was well aware of his attributes.
He hissed when her hand gripped him, unable to close fully around his girth. Soft strokes moved up and down, her gaze locked on him.
