“Samuel?” Emma stirred, warm and drowsy against him. “What time is it?”
Samuel didn’t answer her, nor did he give her a chance to open her eyes before he was kissing her—her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and at last, her parted lips. Emma sighed and twined her arms around his neck as his mouth opened over hers, his tongue stealing inside.
He wanted her again. He’d never stop wanting her.
“Mmmm.” Emma hummed with pleasure as he trailed hot kisses down her neck. “You make it difficult to banish you from my bed, my lord, but you must return to your own bedchamber before anyone notices we—”
“No.” Samuel’s mouth drifted lower to taste the soft skin between her breasts. “Not yet.”
If he had hisway, not ever.
Emma gave his hair a playful tug. “Refusing to leave a lady’s bed? You’re dreadfully arrogant, Lord Lymington.”
“All marquesses are arrogant, Miss Downing.” Samuel nibbled at her lower lip, still swollen from his kisses the night before. “Demanding, too, especially in the bedchamber.”
“You don’t frighten me, my lord.” Emma’s lips curved in a cheeky smile. “I’ve never been one to obey commands, and I don’t suppose that will change now, even if you are a marquess.”
Samuel drew back to gaze down at her, and was instantly bewitched by her mischievous little smile. “Is that a challenge?”
Emma moved one shoulder in a dainty shrug. “Perhaps it is, but not…Samuel! What do you thinkyou’re doing?”
In one quick move Samuel had tossed her onto her back and thrown one leg over both of hers, trapping her beneath him. “Never challenge a marquess, Miss Downing, especially in the bedchamber.”
“There seem to be quite a lot of rules about marquesses in bedchambers.” Emma wriggled underneath him, making a great show of attempting to escape him. “Why, you wicked man.”
Samuel had never seen her so playful before, and her breathless laughter was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “There’s no point in struggling, Miss Downing. I have you now.” He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. “Behave yourself, and perhaps I’ll reward you.”
“Never!” Emma declared, but her objections didn’t carry as much weight as they might have done if she hadn’t been stroking her fingers down the back of his thigh, tickling him with her fingernails. “Surrender is for the weak, and I’m not…oh.” Her laughing protests were swallowed in a gasp. “Oh, my goodness.”
Samuel cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumb teasing one nipple as his lips closed around the other one. He circled the swollen peak with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking, tormenting her with light strokes, easing back only when Emma was gasping.
“Pretty.” Samuel flicked the edge of his fingernail over an eager nipple, watching her face as he crooned to her, low and wicked, his words both a tease and an invitation. “Yes, you like that. Do you need more? Beg me sweetly, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He nuzzled her again, dragging his beard-roughened cheek over the tips of her breasts, a dark chuckle falling from his lips when she sank her fingers into his hair to still him and pressed her nipple against his mouth. He obliged her with a lingering lick before pulling away again. “I don’t heara plea, Emma.”
Emma arched up to catch his lower lip between her teeth, her gentle nibble distracting him as she dragged her hand down his chest to his stomach and brushed her fingers over his cock, standing at stiff attention against his belly. He was already aching, and when she teased her thumb over the swollen tip his hips jerked forward, thrusting his hard lengthinto her fist.
God, he wanted her so badly, wanted to keep thrusting until he came into that tight, warm hand, but there would be time for that later. Right now, he wanted to make Emma writhe and plead, and then he wanted to give her everything until she fell apart in his arms.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pinned it to the bed, ignoring the insistent throbbing of his cock, and slipped his other hand between her legs.
Emma gasped, her back arching as he dragged one fingertip through her satiny folds, gathering themoisture there.
He stroked her again, then again until she was slick, and he’d coaxed the swollen nub at her core to rise, begging for another stroke of his fingers. “Spread your legsfor me, Emma.”
This time she did as he commanded at once, all teasing protests melting away as she opened herself to him.
“Yes. God, yes, sweetheart.” Samuel shifted his thigh so it rested between hers, gritting his teeth to fight back his climax at the thought of holding her open and pleasuring her relentlessly until she came for him.
He touched her lightly, delicately, his big, rough fingers parting her dainty pink flesh and revealing the pearl at her center, open and blossoming for him. “So eager. You’re beautiful like this, Emma.” He dragged the pad of his finger over her, lighterthan a whisper.
Emma’s back bowed at the caress, seeking more of his touch. So Samuel stroked her again, but too lightly to give her what she needed, his lips parting as she squirmed for him.
“Do you need to come, sweetheart?” He was every bit as wicked as she’d accused him of being, because he loved this, loved teasing her, loved making her moan and beg. He could listen to her incoherentpleas forever.
A broken sob left her lips. “Yes! Samuel, I…please, make me—”
Samuel stroked her again, groaning when she arched against him, seeking his fingers. He was nearly as frenzied as she was, his cock harder than it had ever been, the tip weeping with his arousal. He allowed himself one desperate stroke down his length, but no more than that, certain another one would send himover the edge.
