He tilted his head at the question, spoken with such fear. Not that he blamed her. She likely knew very little about sex, as did most ladies. What she was about to give him was precious, her only bargaining chip in a world of men who would happily take advantage.
Just as he planned to take advantage, he supposed.
“I will,” he said slowly. “But not here, Marianne. Not in a carriage where you wouldn’t be comfortable. Tonight we will stop at an inn and rest. There will be a bed and time for me to make you ready.”
“Then what are you doing now?” she whispered.
“Pleasure isn’t only about putting my cock in you,” he said, reaching up to take one slippered foot and resting it on the step on the door. “There are many ways to find release, for both of us.”
“Release?” she asked, but she moved her other foot as she did so and opened herself to him.
He stared at the slick, sweet pussy set before him and shuddered with the power of his desire. Her constant questions should have reduced that need, but they didn’t. “Release. To make you come. Have you ever touched yourself, in the dark, in your bed? Here?”
He reached out and gently swiped his thumb across the crease between her thighs. She rocked into him as he did so, her breath breaking. She turned her face and he smiled.
“You have,” he said. “Have you ground against your hand, seeking pleasure?”
She swallowed hard, and then she nodded without looking at him.
“That pleasure was your release. Coming. And I can make you do that right here, right now.”
She licked her lips and let her gaze return to him. “How?”
He didn’t answer, but bent his head, nudging his nose along the fragrant folds of her sex. She tensed beneath that touch, lifting her hips toward him with a muffled moan. A moan that turned to a harsh cry when he darted out his tongue and traced it along the entrance to her sex.
Marianne gripped her hands against the carriage seat as sensations crashed over her. Alexander was…lickingher. Pressing her folds open with his big hands and licking her over and over. And it was magnificent! His tongue was rough and firm, awakening nerves that she’d only just barely brought to life when she touched herself in those stolen moments he’d forced her to admit to taking in the dark of her chamber.
This was no fumbled attempt in the dark. No, this man knew exactly what he was doing.
He lifted his head from between her thighs and she shivered as she stared at him. He looked so wicked, kneeling between her spread legs, his big hands pressing her open even wider, his lips slick and his eyes dark and dangerous.
“You’re thinking too much, Marianne,” he whispered, his voice thick and low. “Let go.”
She swallowed hard. What he was asking her to do was near-impossible. She had so much responsibility, so much she carried on her back. If she let go, even for a moment, she feared she would lose her grip and everything would come crashing down around her, around Juliet.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She forced herself to do so, locking eyes with him and losing herself in the swirling, dark depths.
“Let. Go,” he repeated. An order this time, rather than a request. But also a form of permission. This man, for all intents and purposes, had purchased her surrender in exchange for her sister’s future.
And she would obey him. Because she should. Because she wanted to.
She settled back against the carriage seat and closed her eyes, pushing away her worries, her fears, her nagging questions about this man and about her future. And with great difficulty, she let go.
She felt his breath against her folds a second time, and she gasped as the stroke of his tongue returned to her wet, tingling sex. She lifted into him, reveling in the sensations he woke in her. And there were so very many sensations to be explored. The stroke of his tongue, the feel of his strong fingers holding her open to him in the most wicked ways, and of course the response of her hungry, wanton body.
Her entire being seemed to hum with increasing pleasure as he licked and licked. Tingles spread from every fold and pulsed in that bundle of nerves just at the top of her sex. The one he sometimes swirled his tongue around and made her lurch and cry out with pleasure.
What he was doing, the reactions his mouth elicited, it was similar to the pleasure she brought herself with her hands, but far more intense and focused. And it built with powerful force as he focused more and more on her clitoris.
She arched into him, grinding her hips without even meaning to do so, reaching for the pleasure he promised with every stroke of his tongue. And then, suddenly, it was there, explosive as it washed over her in long, powerful waves.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him as he continued to lick her through the crisis, holding her hips steady as he pulled more and more and more sensation free. After what seemed like an eternity, the jolts of electric pleasure subsided and he lifted his head to smile up at her.
Her heart skipped a beat. He really was uncommonly handsome. She wanted to trace both scar and jaw with her fingers, with her mouth.
He leaned up, bracing himself on the seat, and kissed her. Once again her mind emptied as she tasted the earthy flavor of her release on his tongue and melted into the driving sensation of his mouth.
