"Don't," he told her, dropping the cravat and crossing the plush Turkish rugs. Reaching out, he traced a finger over the smooth curve of her bottom. "You're exquisite."
The brandy burned as he swallowed the rest of it, needing it to slake some of the ache of desire. He was close to spending in his trousers just at the sight of her. And that wouldn't do. He needed to break her with desire first.
Putting the glass down on the small bedside table, Lucien returned to her. There was a small packet laid on the bed beside her, an oiled sheathe. He picked it up. "You never answered my question," he said, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. His cock sprang free, and Luc's lip curled in a silent snarl as he fisted the head of it, wiping the slickness of a bead of pearly cum across the throbbing tip. He sheathed it swiftly. "Hard? Or slow?"
"Damn you," she whispered into the mattress, her dark curls hiding her face from view as he stepped behind her. A soft moan made her squirm. "Just do it. Hard. Take me hard."
The softness of her panting gave the illusion that she was begging. He liked it. Still fisting his cock, he traced his dampened finger between her legs, circling the softened bud of her clitoris. The first touch of her almost undid him. Ianthe moaned, one fist grabbing at the bed spread, her fingers turning into claws as that half of her skirt threatened to slide down.
"Say please," he whispered, taking hold of her hips. His fingerprints left little marks in her pale, perfect skin.
She shook her head.
Lucien pushed her onto her knees on the very edge of the mattress, her ankles dangling off it. He thrust forward, letting his cock graze her tender flesh, parting her just a hint.
"I can wait all night," he told her. A lie. God. Just the feel of her satiny skin drove his teeth into his lip. No matter what she begged for, he could not take her as he'd wanted. If he fucked her now, he'd be done in seconds, and he wanted this to last. Wanted to brand himself deep within her. Wanted to beat her at her own game.
"Please." It was a whisper torn from a reluctant throat. "Take me. Now."
"As you wish."
He sank into heated flesh slowly, just to make sure she was ready, and a gasp tore from his own throat. The tight clench of her body was exquisite. A vein throbbed in his temple as he held onto her hips, grinding himself deep within her.
Burying his fingers in the fabric that tightened over her hips, he ground his teeth together and plunged into her hot, willing body.
A feather light stroke touched his balls. Lucien flexed hard, an unexpected thrust. His fingers curled around her hip, sinking through the soft folds of her gown until he found the molten core of her. He wanted her loose and undone, absolutely destroyed beneath him. Fingers dancing over her wet flesh, he fucked her with sweet, short strokes, taking them both to the edge of pleasure. Every surge of his fingers was rewarded with the tightening of her body, until he was so close to exploding, he had to bite his lip to stop himself.
But something was stopping her from taking that plunge.
"You're beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful."
That touch danced over his balls again, a soft caress that made him throw his head back and see stars.
"Damn you," he groaned. Heat shivered at the base of his spine, working its way right through him. Giving into the urge, he sank his other hand into her disheveled chignon and tilted her head back. "Come for me, darling. Come."
She bit her lip and shook her head.
"This dance isn't over until you do."
One last flex of his fingers, a hesitation, and then Ianthe cried out, her entire body milking him. "Oh. My. God." She gasped, "Rathbourne!"
He hissed, thrusting one last final time as he came.
Breathing hard, Lucien let his head fall forward, still grinding small circles with his hips. Her body quivered beneath him. They both breathed heavily, trying to find the ground beneath their feet. A minute ticked past. Then another. Slowly, her skirts fell, hiding their joining from view, and with regret, Luc pulled free of her, taking the sheathe in hand and disposing of it neatly before tucking his cock back into his trousers.
His first glimpse of heaven. Every inch of his body felt alive and flushed with power that rejuvenated him. It should have been enough, but he burned still, as if he could spend all night fucking her and still not be sated.
Dragging her skirts down, he slid his hands around her waist and drew her up onto her knees. "Are you hungry?"
Tendrils of silky black hair clung to her damp forehead, and her glassy eyes flinched as they met his. Lucien leaned down and pressed his lips against the soft spot just beneath her ear, hands drinking in the sensation of her crinoline gown as he drew her back against his chest. From this angle, he could see directly down her bodice and feel the soft curve of her abdomen hidden behind its confining stays. All woman. Made to be desired. A goddess.
"Hungry?"
"I've sent for dinner." Stepping back, he forced himself to stop touching her. He could wait. The swift coupling had eased some of the harsh edge within him, and they had all night.
Lucien dragged a plush armchair from the hearth and settled a small table in front of it. Ianthe dragged her knees up to her chest on the bed as she watched him, her cheeks hot and rosy. "Since when did you commandeer my staff?"
"Forty minutes ago," he replied, "when the sun set." Pouring a shot of whiskey into his glass, he offered it to her, capping the flask again.
