"Touch me."
"Please," he commanded.
"Please."
And so he did. She was incredibly responsive, incredibly wet. A flush of desire swept through him.
"Fetch another sheathe," he told her, pushing the dinner cart out of the way.
Clutching her loosened corset to her breasts, she did so. When she returned, Luc caught her fingers and directed her to her knees in between his legs.
"I like your obedience."
"Don't presume it will last," she warned.
Lucien smiled. "I don't." Reaching out, he plucked a handful of pins from her hair. "Put it on me."
The look she shot him was dangerous. Easing open the flap on his trousers, she curled her pale hands over his cock. Lucien's hand slid through her hair. With gentle pressure, he directed her down until her lips brushed against the tip of his cock.
"Suck it," he whispered.
Her tongue darted out. Tasted him. Lucien bit his lip. Watching him the entire time, she lowered her head, her warm, wet mouth curling around his erection and taking him almost to the base.
Oh, God. Heaven. His eyes rolled back in his head, his hand on the back of her head controlling the depth of her mouth. Miss Martin was no expert, but she was enthusiastic and that counted.
"Enough," he finally demanded, a shiver running down his spine.
Those firm hands slid the sheathe down over his cock, and she gave him one last suck, as if to prove that her compliance only stretched so far, before she let him draw her back into his lap.
Backward.
White, milky thighs straddled his. Miss Martin glanced back, almost curiously, as if wondering what he meant by this. Lucien pressed her forward, her hands resting on the dining cart as he gently eased his cock between her thighs.
"And down," he whispered, as she sank back onto him.
A shiver ran through her spine, and she flexed her hips, settling her hands on her thighs. "You like to take me from behind."
"I do. There are reasons, of course." He smacked her bottom as she rose.
Miss Martin jerked up before impaling herself again. Luc rubbed at the reddened mark of his handprint on her round arse, licking his finger and then tracing it down over her smooth skin, teasing at the puckered rosebud there.
Her fingernails dug into her thighs as she gasped, the muscle in her thighs rippling as she lifted.
"Down," he whispered, and she impaled herself twice, each exquisite muscle clenching around him.
"Rathbourne!" Her body shuddered, little pinpricks of gooseflesh erupting up her bare arms.
All you have to do is say no. But she didn't, rising again slowly, then increasing the pace.
Hot and clearly flustered, she raked her hands down her face as she rode him, moaning a little as he worked her with hands and cock. The tension in her body tightened.
"Touch yourself," he demanded, hand curling over her hip as he thrust up into her, feeling his balls clench hard up into his body. Fuck. He'd meant to stay aloof, to enjoy her surrender, but it was becoming harder to keep his mind clear. Harder to think at all. Lucien threw his head back, his lip curling in a silent snarl as she slid gentle fingers down between her thighs. Perhaps her own touch would stimulate her. She moaned, her body tightening as she sank her other hand into her hair and she cried out, her upthrusts slowing, slowing, body quivering...
Then she shook her head, curling her fist in the hem of her chemise instead. "I can't."
Frustration edged through her tone.
"It will happen," he assured her.
