A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(62)

Let’s try once again.” He pressed another finger into her.

“Toby!” she scolded, her voice tweaking.

“Yes, yes. That’s the one.”

Growling with frustration, she arched against his hand. Finally he took pity on her and put that teasing mouth to better use. Within seconds, he had her crying out in exquisite pleasure. The second climax left her shuddering and weak. Her whole body sang with bliss, but she still ached for more. She needed him inside her, needed to feel that sense of completion when their bodies joined.

He stroked her thigh. “What do you want, Isabel? Tell me. Ask me anything.”

“Release me.”

“Anything but that. I’ll unbind your wrists in time, but I mean to free your passion first.”

“I don’t—”

“You do. You’re the most passionate woman I’ve ever known. You’re so passionate, you’re frightened of it. Don’t be.” He gently caressed her between her legs. “God, you are so wet, so ready. You’re wet for me. Ready for me. Don’t deny it. Don’t deny me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want…”

I want you inside me.

She just couldn’t say it, not like that. Not with him staring down at her in the full sunlight, while she lay bound to the bed. He had all the power in this situation, and while that had excited her earlier … now she found herself needing to even the balance.

“I want you to disrobe,” she said. If he would not loose her restraints, at least she could force him to remove his clothes. They would be equal in nakedness, at least.

“Gladly.” With a roguish grin, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and cast it aside, before making short work of his cuffs. In a matter of moments, he’d gathered his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he sat up to remove his boots, offering Bel a splendid view of his bare-chested form. She admired the lean, sculpted tone of his muscles; the masculine grace of his movements. She had to remind herself again that this paragon of male beauty was her husband

— hers.

His boots removed, Toby unfastened his trousers and smallclothes and slid them down over his hips. And then there he sat, gloriously naked and proud. He hadn’t a tremor of selfconsciousness in his whole body, and Bel envied that strength and confidence almost as much as she desired to feel it, covering her. Inside her.

“And …?” he prompted. “Tell me what now.”

Come make love to me. Join with me.

But she couldn’t say it, not yet. He still had her at his mercy, and she did not want to beg.

“Come kiss me,” she whispered.

“With pleasure.” Cautiously, he stretched his naked body over hers. Tenderly, he touched her lips with his. Those lips that had so recently tasted every inch of her body, so that it was almost as though Bel were kissing herself. How curious. She did taste of apricots. They kissed slowly, and then deeply. And then quite urgently.

His arousal pulsed against her thigh, and her own body throbbed and ached for him.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered against her neck. “God, tell me soon, or I swear I shall die. I’ve wanted you all day, every moment. So fiercely I thought I’d explode with it. Say the words, Isabel. Let me in.”

Bel felt a wide, giddy smile stretching her face. At last. He might have her bound by the wrists and panting with pleasure, but she had him naked and desperate and utterly tied in knots. And now, all the power was hers.

She hooked one leg over his and ground against him in invitation.

“Isabel,” he groaned. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“You have to say it,” he demanded, in that curt, arousing voice.

She laughed. He lifted his head, and their eyes locked.

“No, I don’t,” she said, giving him a coy smile.

His amber-flecked eyes warmed with understanding. “You tease,” he accused, a grin spreading across his face. And then, taking her mouth, “That’s my girl.”

He kissed her passionately, moaning against her mouth as he lifted her hips and—merciful heaven— finally slid into her.

Oh, it felt so perfect. So right.

Holding steady deep within her, he reached over her head to untie the cravat. Once her hands were free, they flew straight to him. He took her in strong, deep strokes, and she explored his body boldly with her fingers, caressing him in places she’d never dared to touch before: the taut swell of his buttock, the downy slope of his thigh. She felt free now, free to possess all of him. Locking her ankles behind his back, she reached under them, to touch where their bodies joined—his hard, thick shaft sliding in and out of her body, the soft, vulnerable sac beneath. He swore. “I can’t—”

She squeezed gently, and he groaned.

“I—God, I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t try.” She raised both hands to his shoulders and clung to him tight. “Just let go.”

Grasping her hips, he took her hard and fast, driving her back toward the edge of that blissful nothingness.

And in that last moment of delicious tension before she cried out in release, Bel thought to herself—if she never returned from it, she would not mind.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, Bel knew she must have gone mad sometime during the night. Surely she must be seeing things.