Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(30)

And her as well, but … “No, I cannot kiss you if you have my nipple in your mouth, and I do rather desperately want to kiss you. Can you keep your hands on my breasts while we do that? It does seem like it should be possible.”

“I do believe it can be managed. Now, are you going to keep talking or are you going to kiss me?”

“I don’t believe you are allowed to question me. You are being punished.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And that reply I think deserves a kiss.” She leaned forward, feeling her way up his chest, while his hands continued to work their magic. It felt so good.

With one hand she found his chin, slightly pointed and scratchy with beard growth. She ran a nail across it, enjoying the rasp.

And then she kissed him. A child’s kiss, a mere brush of dry lips against dry lips.

“You call that a kiss?” He spoke the words against her mouth.

“I am doing this how I want. Now be quiet or I’ll stop.”

“That is a threat.”

She kissed him again, a little more firmly, with a little more passion.

She pretended to herself that she could feel only with her lips, and used them to taste and explore, experiencing every nuance of his mouth. The arched bow of the upper lip. The sweet fullness of the lower. Her tongue slipped out, eager to join the exploration. She traced the seam of his lips, but did not seek entrance; instead she dallied, enjoying him—and herself.

He moaned beneath her, the sound slipping from his mouth to hers.

Delectable. She’d never thought of a man as such, but no other word could describe the feeling of his lips beneath hers.

She wiggled her hips a little and enjoyed the feeling of him squirming beneath her. He had made her beg with need. Now it was his turn.

For the first time she let her tongue slip between the opening of his lips, not far, but enough to taunt. She brushed along the slickness of his teeth, swept her tongue over the tender skin beneath lip and gum. She did not pass the barrier of his teeth.

She simply savored.

He moved beneath her, insistent, but she refused to be rushed.

She bit at his upper lip, catching it between her teeth and pulling.

Oh, he liked that. He most definitely did.

She repeated the action, then laved at the wound.

His breath grew uneven.

His hands gripped her, trying to pull her closer to him.

She moved back, sitting up straight again. “Stop that or I won’t let you keep them on my breasts no matter how much I enjoy it. Do you want me to make you keep them over your head?”

“And how would you manage that?”

“I imagine words would be enough—or should I tie you? I do have the blindfold on my wrist.” She could not imagine that it would be enough to hold him, but still it was a good threat. Besides, she could not even imagine who would tie someone to a bed, although it was an interesting image. And would she rather tie or be tied?

“I’ll be good,” he said with a sigh. “You learn too fast.”

She was almost sorry. Her imagination had been painting such a pretty picture.

Leaning forward, she gave him one gentle kiss and then one slightly deeper.

Her tongue slipped forward, began its exploration, and then thrust deep.

The kiss grew serious, challenging.

His tongue rose to meet hers, danced with hers—and tried to take over.

She refused. This was her moment.

She slipped back, then parried forth, letting him know she would not be defeated.

He refused to concede.

Mouths dueled. His hands grew more urgent upon her breasts.

Melting desire began to pool between her legs, but she would not give in—not to him, not to herself.

The kiss went on and on. Her hands rose, tangling in his hair, wanting him closer, wanting to— Suddenly, her fingers felt a ridge, just within his hairline above his left ear. It was a large raised area, not wide but easily the length of her forefinger.

The kiss slowed as she moved to explore.

“God, don’t stop. It’s just a scar,” he panted into her mouth. “A boyhood injury.”

“The broken arm?” she exhaled.

“No, earlier. I hit my head on the hearth when I was still in the nursery. A ton of blood, but not much harm. Scared the nanny to death. She took to her bed for a week. Now kiss me. Kiss me hard.”

She should not have given in to his demands, but could not resist, now when her own desires were so closely paralleled. She pressed forward, plunged her tongue deep, felt his answering suck and welcome.

She’d thought she’d known how to kiss, but nothing had prepared her for this. She could have gone on for hours.

Only—she wanted so much more. She forced herself to pull back, forced herself to breathe, to think.

Moving her mouth from his, she trailed kisses to his chin, grated her teeth upon the growth of his beard. She missed being able to see him, to know him, but there was something magical about this world of sensation.

His neck was warm and damp. She kissed and licked every inch of him as she made her way down his body.

His hands caught at her breasts, trying to hold her to him, but she slithered lower. Her tongue delved into the small indent between his collarbones. She’d never known that spot could be so sweet.

Which way to go? Right? Left? If it felt so good when his mouth was upon her nipples, how would he like it if she … Left. She would go left.