Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(59)

She swallowed.

“And if you stand like that any longer, darling, you’ll catch your death of cold.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I always have cold feet and hands in winter.”

He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on her face. “I could warm you if you like.”

“I like.” She affirmed that with a nod.

He narrowed his eyes at her and the seduction she saw there robbed her of breath. “Come here.”

She couldn’t bear to wait any longer. All this talk was reassuring, but only so far. And then she was left hungry, ravenous for his hands on her and his lips and his teeth…

She crossed her arms and in one swift move, reached down, grabbed the silken stuff into her hands and whipped it over her head. She let it slip from her fingertips to pool upon the floor.

The expression on Julian’s face became a blend of reverence and salacious delight that she sore she must imprint on her mind for the day she died.

“Lily,” he breathed and got to his feet to catch her in his arms and stride to his bed. There, tenderly, he laid her down and slid beside her. “I’m amazed at you.”

Her eyes stung with embarrassment. But the rest of her wanted whatever he had to give. “Pleased, too, I hope?”

He put the flat of his palm to the bare skin of her stomach and caressed her, back and forth. “Very much so. I think too it’s time I pleased you.”

He cupped one of her breasts, his gaze voracious as he studied her and circled her nipple with two deft fingers.

“Ohhh,” she moaned, coiling.

“You’re very responsive, darling. I touch you and you melt.” He shaped her areola into a turgid point and she squeezed shut her eyes.

She writhed and he hooked one leg over hers, pinning her to the soft linens. Grabbing his hair, she looked into his eyes. “There’s more you did weeks ago in the salon.”

“Ah, yes. This?” He sucked her nipple into his mouth.

And she whimpered.

“This too.” He trailed his hand down her torso to stroke her thighs and cup her there. Gently, he pressed one finger inside to caress her deeply. Then he added another. His strokes were sure and slow.

She flailed her head against the sheets.

“I know,” he whispered, ragged, and shifted to take her other breast into his mouth and lave her to a throbbing torment. “You’re superb, darling,” he reassured her and slid lower on the bed.

“No!” She clutched at him. “Don’t go.”

“Never.” On his haunches, he winked at her and crawled between her legs. Then he sank between them, put two fingers to her fiery flesh and opened her wide.

She twisted, the urge to run and hide or scream thrown to the wind in delicious surrender as he spoke to her in firm and soothing words.

“I want to taste you. Let me.” And he lowered his mouth to her and lavished her with ardent little kisses along her secret folds.

She keened in delight, grabbing the sheets and arching, pausing in mid-air, full of the sultry wet strokes of his tongue. She hovered in space, expectant, rabid to have more, more and more again.

He gave it. Spreading her lips wide, he found that same spot he’d discovered in his coach, but this time, his fingers gave way to the glories of his tongue. He sampled her sweetly with a kiss. Slowly with a long tender suck and then he massaged her with the hard flicks of his tongue.

She lost her breath, panting. “Julian, Julian,” she cried over again as he spun her higher and tighter into a tornado of wild delight. She couldn’t think, move, wanting only this madness he gave with abandon and moans of pleasure. “Oh, Julian,” she groaned as she launched herself over a new and spectacular cliff to land, pulsing in his arms.

Languid, she locked her gaze on his. He smiled and combed back her hair. “Shall you have more?”

She caught him close. “Yes, yes!”

He turned to one side, divested himself of his silk trousers and came back to her, crawling up between her legs. Hooking his arms under her knees, he grinned at her and moved so near she resisted his searing flesh on hers. And then the probe, slow and sure, of the tip of his cock. Next the fullness of him, a wider girth and hotter. At last, the entire length of him, so large, so hard, her mouth fell open.

He caressed her cheek and asked if he was hurting her.

She shook her head in wonder. This joining was not like the animals at all. “No. I love you inside me.”

“Oh, Lily, I love it too.”

And with swift strokes, he surged into her and brought them both up to that precipice and sailed them down. So that, at last, she was his wife. He was hers.

Of bliss, she could name only one missing piece. Did she love him? He her? Or were they a good bargain for each other? The marquess and the heiress. The one bought, the other sold. Could they find love somewhere in between?

She could. At the realization, tears sprang to her eyes.

He noticed, thumbed them away and cradled her close.

For those who were bought and sold, was love a commodity that was durable?





Chapter Twelve


Nora drew back the blue damask draperies and white sheer curtains, the rays of the sun warming Lily in bed and making her turn toward the space where Julian had lain last night. Gone now, he couldn’t have left too long ago as the sheets were still warm.