Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(105)

“I love you.” She circled his nipple, small and dark against his pale skin. It pebbled as she touched him. She inhaled as well, her chest suddenly tight. He was at her mercy, this powerful, lonely man, both physically and emotionally. If she made the wrong move, she might hurt him terribly, for she knew now that she could hurt him, and the realization was wondrous and strange.

Somehow, by some miracle, she mattered to him.

“All of you.” She leaned forward and placed her mouth against his chest, kissing him, stroking him with her lips, trying to convey all she felt. She licked his nipple, circled it with her tongue, tasting man, tasting Caire. She took that small bit of flesh between her lips and bit gently, carefully, listening as his breath quickened.

“I think I’ve loved you since that first night when you surprised me in my sitting room.”

Her breath quickened as well, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. She climbed on the bed and straddled his hips, but when he pressed up, she ignored him, sliding lower, her legs on either side of his thighs.

“Or perhaps it was when you talked to me so shamefully in your carriage that first time.” She lay flat on him, her breasts crushed just above his hot penis, her forearms along his sides, touching him with as much of her body as she could. “Do you remember?”

“Ye-es,” he hissed.

She felt his body shudder, knew she was hurting him with just her gentle touch, but she pressed on. She licked down his chest, feeling the tears start in her eyes as his heartbeat thudded under her lips. She was causing him pain and she hated it, but at the same time, she hurt him with all the love in the world.

“Do you remember what you talked about? How you described me kneeling before you?”

He shuddered.

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.