The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(79)

Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes, pooling against the fringe of her lashes until two single tears streamed down her cheeks. He wiped at them with his thumbs. “Do not cry, darling. It will be fine. You shall see. Trust me.”

She started to shake her head, so he bent to kiss her. He could taste the reticence and worry in the way she held back. Using his mouth, his hands, and his tongue, he poured all his determination and confidence into their connection. She might not believe the words, but surely she could feel how much he cared for her. How much he craved her. How he’d never, ever let anything or anyone hurt her. After a few seconds, she responded, her fingers digging painfully into his arms as she kissed him back with desperate hunger. Satisfaction roared through his blood, quickly followed by a lust so acute, so painful, it nearly knocked him to his knees.

“The door,” he panted against her mouth.

“No need. They’ll not disturb us.” She nipped at his bottom lip, biting him, and then sucked the plump flesh inside her mouth. “Now, Simon.”

He should refuse. After all, he would see her this evening. What was it about Maggie that drove him to absolute madness? Then her fingers found his trouser buttons . . . and any thoughts of waiting vanished. She freed him from his clothing and began stroking him hard, fast. He’d taught her too well, he realized, his head falling back in blissful surrender. Christ, she’d have him spilling in her hand in another minute.

Incapable of waiting any longer, he led her to the scarred wooden table. He pushed the letters and forged painting out of the way. “Up,” he told her. “Lift your skirts.”

Her hooded green gaze never left his face as she sat, reclined on an elbow, and slowly raised the hem of her faded morning dress, petticoats, and shift. Her mound, covered in soft, downy hair, lay bare to him in the midday light. So beautiful. He would never get tired of looking at her.

Her knees fell open in brazen invitation. Everything in him screamed to take her fast and hard, but he did not want to hurt her. He stepped between her legs and swiped a finger over the entrance to her body. Wet. Ready. He lined up and, with one thrust, buried himself as far as he could. The sheer exquisiteness of that motion ripped a groan from both of them. Hot and tight, her channel gripped his cock like a fist. She fell back against the table, his beautiful, wild Maggie spread before him like the most enticing banquet. As she watched him, her lips formed the one word guaranteed to raise his desire to a fever pitch. “Please,” she whispered.

Oh, hell. Bending, he hooked her knees over the crooks of his arms and straightened. Her hips were up off the table, allowing him better leverage. He began slamming inside her, a rough, punishing rhythm they both craved. His hands wrapped around her thighs to pull her forward onto his cock with each thrust. She gasped, her lids fluttering closed. “Yes,” she breathed.

Never had he been so out of control with a woman, not even in his youth. But Maggie twisted him up, turned him inside out—a fact she was well aware of and relished. Many nights she had teased and tortured him until he’d taken her like an animal in heat, delirious with a bestial craving for her. None of those evenings, however, had been quite as frenetic as this.

Pleasure built at the base of his spine. Each stroke brought him closer to release and he knew it would not be long. “Use your fingers,” he gasped. “Come on, darling. Let me see you.”

Unashamed and heart-stoppingly beautiful, she slid her hand down her belly and through the thatch of hair covering her mound. Clever fingers found the swollen bud at the apex of her crease, rolled it. The sight so erotic, Simon had to close his eyes. If he watched her, this would all be over too soon. She moaned and he doubled his efforts, hips pounding against her to drive his cock deep. Her muscles clenched, tightening as she reached the peak.

“God, yes. Come for me,” he told her, lifting his lids to watch her body shudder and convulse as she pulsed around him. The feeling so exquisite, everything inside him coiled and then broke open. The orgasm tore through him without warning, and he emptied himself inside her body. He threw back his head and let out a shout as it went on and on, endless waves of ecstasy he was helpless to fight as she clutched him close.

When they both regained themselves, he slid out of her. “I apologize,” he said, producing a scrap of linen from his pocket and holding it out to her. “I meant to withdraw—”

She accepted the cloth. “I know. We were both carried away, I fear.”

He fastened his trousers, relieved she was not cross with his carelessness. He must’ve successfully convinced her of his plans to marry her. Without doubt, any child of theirs would not be born a bastard. “We should leave for London tomorrow morning. I’ll secure us passage.”

Maggie sat up and righted her clothing. “I have much to do before returning. Perhaps it would be best if we did not distract one another this evening.”

He frowned, unhappy with the idea but unable to argue with the logic. “Fine. I’ll collect you in the morning.” Holding her hand, he helped her off the table. With hair askew and flushed skin, she looked like a woman who’d just been tumbled. His woman. He kissed her quickly. “Until tomorrow, then.”





Chapter Nineteen


London

A week later



“I came as soon as I could,” the Duke of Colton said as he strode into the drawing room.