Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(87)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

She took down her hair, letting it spread over his chest as she kissed around his navel. A soft sound left his lips, perhaps a moan, but she didn’t stop. She tongued her way to that special spot by his groin where his thigh met his hip, licking like a cat. She wriggled farther down him, stretching her legs full length along his, her feet hanging off the end of the bed, her breasts resting now atop his hard thighs.

“And what I would do when I knelt before you?”

His whole body stilled. Carefully, thoroughly, she licked over his hard cock, feeling it leap beneath her tongue. She bathed him with her tongue but didn’t take his penis into her mouth. His breathing was rough now, and she didn’t know whether it was from arousal or pain.

Perhaps it didn’t matter anymore.

“I was so aroused by your words,” she whispered. “So shamed and at the same time so excited. You were opening up a new world for me. A world in which I could be free. I want you to be free too.”

She placed her head between his thighs and kissed his sac, gently, tenderly, inhaling his male musk. Then she turned her head and ran her mouth down first one thigh, then the other, leaving no spot untouched, leaving no bit of flesh unloved. By the time she reached his feet—big, but with surprisingly elegant arches—she was drenched with her own need. He no longer trembled, but when she looked toward the head of the bed, she saw his fists clenching the spindles of the headboard so tightly she feared he might break them.

Now.

She flowed up him, bracing one hand on his shoulder, using the other to guide him into her. They both gasped at the penetration.

“I love you,” she moaned.

Her tears overflowed as she took him deep within her. She raised her bottom, letting him slide out once, twisting herself back down on him. Then she laid herself on him like a blanket, covering as much of his flesh with hers as she could. She found that she had to curl her legs next to his hips to keep him lodged within her depths, but she could spread herself over nearly all of his torso. Then she lay still, her head on his chest, his hot cock within her, listening to his leaping heartbeat under her ear.

He was gasping beneath her.

She raised her head a little and brushed her lips over his exposed jaw, trying to comfort him. “Is it all right?”

But he wouldn’t answer. His hands were still fisted, the muscles in his upper arms bulging with his restrained strength. She watched his hands flex around the neckcloths, waiting to see if he’d tear himself free, feeling his hard length within her, pulsing with life.

When after a while he still let her lay on him, she moved. A gentle circling of her hips, a mere rising and falling, like waves upon a great rock.

She licked his throat, humming under her breath, comforting as she made love to him. He hardly moved within her. She wanted—needed—this to last. At the same time, her desire was rising. She ground herself against him, using his body to pleasure herself, even as she tried to convey all he meant to her.

He made a sound, perhaps a sob, and she closed her eyes, rubbing her wet face against his jaw.

“Temperance.” He moved his face then, catching her lips. “Dear God, Temperance!”

She kissed him gladly, letting him thrust his tongue into her mouth, letting him take control in this small way.

Her movements slowed until she was merely pulsing against him, concentrating on his cock filling her completely, on his hips against the inside of her thighs, on his tongue within her mouth. It began gradually, naturally, like the dawning of the sun, a warmth starting at her center and spreading throughout her body. She hardly noticed until she was clenching inside, sobbing noiselessly against his mouth. She felt him jerk inside her, felt all of his muscles tense beneath hers. She knew he was reaching his peak as well and continued to kiss him. Gently. Softly. Telling him all she felt with just her body.

He relaxed, his spasm spent, while she still lay on him, her flesh wet with both their fluids, delicately sensitized. She had enough presence of mind to reach up and untie his hands.

Then she tucked her head under his chin and lay quiet, his cock still lodged within her, and whispered, “I love you, Lazarus Huntington. I love you.”

* * *

“DOES IT STILL hurt when I touch you?” Temperance asked sometime later.

She and Caire had bathed and supped and made love again, and now they sprawled nude upon his bed. She lay on her side, her legs tangled with his, rubbing her palm over his chest. She couldn’t seem to touch him enough.

Caire turned his head, his sapphire eyes meeting her own. “No, your touch no longer pains me. I think you have indeed cured me. It tingles a bit, but the sensation is not painful.” He caught her hand, rubbing her fingers over his nipple. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Happiness streaked like a golden light through her, but she kept her face grave. “Are you sure? Perhaps we should test your endurance further.”

His lips curved rather wickedly, and he brought her fingers to his mouth, kissing each one slowly and carefully until Temperance nearly squirmed. “Is that a challenge, madam?”

She lowered her eyelashes demurely, her heart pounding at their flirtation. “Perhaps.”

“Then I shall endeavor not to disappoint.” His voice had turned serious, and when she looked up again, his face had lost its former teasing look. “I never want to disappoint you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes as if pained. “I am not the man you would’ve chosen on your own, I think.”

She laid a palm on his cheek. “Why do you say that?”

His eyes snapped open, and he suddenly rolled to bring her beneath him. “Because I am selfish and vain and venal—nothing, in fact, like you or the men in your family. Don’t think I’m unaware of that fact. I don’t deserve you, Temperance, but it doesn’t matter. You have told me you love me, and I’ll not let you change your mind, now or ever.”

He lay on her heavily, his legs between her spread thighs, and she was aware that he was erect and ready again. It was a position of dominance, one meant to enforce his will.

But she looked up at him and smiled gently. “What makes you think I didn’t choose you?”

His dark brows snapped together. “What?”

She threaded her fingers through his glorious silver hair. “You are exactly what I want, exactly what I need. You are honest and strong and fearless, and you make me fearless too. You don’t let me hide behind excuses and prevarication; you make me face myself and you as well. I love you, Lazarus. I love you.”