Page 44 of The Luckiest Lady in London

She smiled.

She might have giggled a little.

When he pulled away from her, she turned onto her side to snuggle close to him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his arm over his eyes.

“You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs,” she told him cheerfully.

It had stung at first, and she was still rather sore, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Especially not when there were mind-boggling pleasures to be had, such as when he rolled her nipple on his tongue, touched that place between her legs with his finger, and drove into her all at the same time.

She kissed his shoulder. “So…we will do this all night long, right?”

Unless she was very much mistaken, when they’d discussed the Greek folly—the Greek folly public copulation, as she termed it—he had told her that it would be only the beginning of the night. That afterward he was taking her to bed and keeping her there until dawn.

She could see no reason for them not to pleasure each other until the small hours of their wedding tonight.

“Absolutely not. That would be execrably inconsiderate of me.”

She removed his arm from his face. “Not if I want it.”

He opened his eyes. She’d never seen him like this, tousled and slightly glazed, which she found enormously appealing. It made him seem more human, and less like a djinn whose intentions could veer from malice to mischief—and back—in the blink of the eye.

He reached out, slowly, almost reluctantly, to play with a strand of her hair. “Your body is not meant to be abused like that. Not tonight, in any case.”

Pouting, she pushed away from him. But the distance was also meant to give him a far better look at her naked person. If it worked once…

He exhaled audibly.

She lifted her hair out of the way, so that it would not conceal her bosom. The motion drew her breasts high and taut. And as he stared, her nipples tightened.

As if in a trance, he slid a palm across one nipple. She whimpered. He placed it between two fingers and played with it. She moaned.

And now he did what she really wanted: took her nipple into his mouth. The man had a most talented tongue, and wrought unutterable pleasures.

She wrapped her legs around his waist. “You make me willing to do anything with you—and for you.”

Her flattery did not go to waste. The next second he was inside her again, hot and huge. She pulled him in for a kiss, and did not let him go until her pleasure was winding tighter and tighter and she was struggling to breathe.

It was like the sky falling.

Beyond, the stars.

* * *

Felix couldn’t stop touching his wife.

Not lasciviously, and not with the intention to arouse—at least, not at the moment. At the moment it was only for the pleasure of his hand on her skin. He also traced the sweep of a brow, the hollow of a cheek, and the outline of her bottom lip. She kissed him on the pad of his finger, her eyes smiling, but also beginning to close with drowsiness.

“It is not even midnight, Marchioness. Are you already in your dotage?”

“You, sir, obviously know nothing about weddings. I had to get up at the crack of dawn to look worthy of upholding The Ideal Gentleman’s boutonniere, let alone his name.”

“And here I thought you would demand to be made love to at least twice as many times.”

“Who says I won’t? This is just a nap to refresh myself,” she retorted, though her words had become slow and mumbly.

He leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead, her cheek, and the tip of her nose. By the time he had kissed her on her chin, her eyes had closed completely—and his body was stirring anew.