“I agree to your terms,” he smiled, watching his hand skate back up towards her shoulder, fingering the silk flowers that embellished the curve of skin there. “And when shall we begin?”
“Right now,” she said, her voice husky with something that sounded delightfully like desire.
Thank Christ.
Starling wasted not a second more, glancing quickly around to make sure they were alone, then taking her hand and tuggingher further down the gallery, towards a conveniently curtained alcove in the dark far recess of the hall.
The rest of the party was engrossed in their play, and he knew no one would care where they had disappeared to.
That was the beauty of seducing a scandalous widow, there was no need to consider anything but the pleasure at hand.
Starling draggedMrs Montrose inside the alcove, tugging the curtains closed with haste and then he turned, all his attention fixed on the object of his desire.
Her dark eyes glowed above cheeks flushed pink with excitement, those red lips parted as if begging him for a kiss.
Backing her up against the wall with his body, he did just that, groaning as the taste of her flooded his senses, his hands moulding themselves to her curves as he crushed her against him, the thin fabric of her dress revealing every delectable line of her body.
She kissed him back for one eternal minute, her tongue sweeping against his, licking and sucking on his lower lip until she pulled away with a nip of her teeth.
Panting, Mrs Montrose stared up at him, her hands finding their way under the cut of his jacket, exploring the line of his flanks.
“I thought you were not supposed to kiss me?” she gasped, even as her nimble fingers stole their way under his waistcoat, tearing at the hem of his shirt until she could skate her palms under the fabric and then up over his skin.
“I never agreed to that, Mrs Montrose, if I recall correctly,” he answered, voice rough with need, dropping his mouth to thecurve of her neck and licking his way up her throat, searching for that tender spot that would make her knees buckle for him.
He was suddenly consumed with the desire to brand her with his mark, suck hard on her skin, and devour her whole until she moaned with pleasure.
Until she begged for him.
Suddenly, he understood the appeal of the deal they had made, the thought of her breaking under the pleasure of his touch incredibly arousing.
Under his shirt, Helen dragged her thumbs across his nipples, reaching up to tease him with her own mouth as he groaned against her lips.
“Helen,” she whispered against his lips, her curious hands dipping lower, exploring the flat plane of his stomach until,saints preserve him,she boldly cupped his rigid length over his breeches.
“Helen,” Starling groaned, letting the sound of her name roll over his tongue like fine wine.
Why had he imagined he would be the one in control here?
Helen dropped to her knees, skirts puffing up around her as she tugged one long white glove from her hand, reaching for his fall, all the while keeping that mysterious gaze fixed on his as she licked her lips suggestively.
Starling vaguely realised they were approaching dangerous territory, far beyond a secretive moment of heavy petting behind the curtains.
If anyone chanced upon them now, there would be no mistaking the carnality of the moment. He tried valiantly to keep an ear out for footsteps in the gallery, but Helen was making it so incredibly hard to think.
Starling watched her through a haze of lust, as she slowly undid each button, his hands finding their way to the back of hercarefully coiffed hair as she drew the moment out with tortuous restraint.
Finally, she slipped her hand inside and gripped him firmly at the base, drawing the hard length of his cock out as she flicked her eyes down to examine him.
Yea gods. She was far better at this than he had anticipated, as he watched her lick her lower lip, stroking her palm up his shaft until she squeezed the crown of his engorged cockhead.
Starling closed his eyes against the erotic sight, already his resolve was weakening.
How weak was a man’s flesh in the hands of the right woman?
He felt her touch her tongue lightly to the bulge of his crown, and his eyes flew open, staring open-mouthed as Helen slowly teased a circle around the ruddy tip, his hips already bucking slightly into her touch. She bunched a hand in the hem of his shirt, tugging him closer, then slid her tongue down the length of him, exploring every ridge as she circled the girth with her bare hand, fingers barely closing around the base of the thick stalk.
By the time she made her way back up to the tip, he was slick with seed, and the sight of her dipping her tongue out to taste his excitement had Starling hissing with pleasure.
