“I still hear the Foxwoods laughing at me. The tale of your cut followed me for weeks, did you know?”
No, she hadn’t, but she wasn’t surprised. That had likely been Father’s intent all along.
“At every bloody business meeting or stupid gathering I attended. And then your father took Pendergast to make his point. Knowing what it meant to me.”
Lucy shivered as he stroked absently at one breast. No wonder he’d hated her. No matter his kindness and protection of her, maybe he still did. Would his opinion change if he knew Father had used her dowry to take the ironworks?
Harry’s teeth sank into her shoulder, the sting forcing a stream of dampness between her thighs. Fingers drew with purpose over her slick flesh, exploring and teasing.
He hefted the weight of one breast. “This, Lucy.” He squeezed gently, brushing his thumb over the peaked nipple, the callouses on his hands drawing out the sensation. “Is a work of art. Dear God, but you’re beautiful.”
Lucy’s head fell back against his shoulder.
“Just to be perfectly clear.” His tone hardened a fraction. “There will be no annulment. Not for any reason. I don’t care if you beg me.” Another swipe of his teeth, as if Harry might eat her whole. Pinching her nipple, he rolled the small bud around until she moaned and pushed back against him. “I won’t let you go. Not ever.”
“I don’t—”she stammered. “I told you?—”
He turned her chin up towards his waiting mouth just as those warm, rough fingers stroked more purposefully between her thighs, finding a spot Lucy had only touched absently once or twice. But never?—
A ripple, delicious in nature, coursed through Lucy, so profound, her knees buckled.
“So lovely,” he said against her mouth.
“I’m not,” she gulped, as his finger moved, eliciting a soft whimper. “I’m flawed. I’m?—”
“Mine.” Harry’s mouth glided over hers. “Mineis what you are, Lucy. I want Marsden, yes.” He bit into the lobe of her ear, making her cry out. “But I want you more.”
He sounded soangryabout it.
“The things I will do to you,” he growled. “But first, I want you to come for me. Have you ever, Lucy? Climaxed?”
“No,” she stuttered as his fingers continued to tease and stroke, tendrils of sensation floating over her skin, heating her from the inside out. Her legs shook as each wave crested along the edges of her body, building and becoming ever more intense.
“I want you to watch.” Harry moved his mouth over the side of her neck, turning her chin while his fingers continued to tease between her thighs. “Look.”
He had Lucy positioned before the large mirror that faced the right side of the bed. The same mirror in which she’d checked her appearance earlier. The oval of glass reflected her naked body, hair spilling over her shoulders, Harry’s large hand fixed between her thighs. The sight was blatantly carnal.
She turned her chin down, away from that flawed, lisping spinster.
“No.” He stole a kiss, taking the air from her lungs. “Spread your legs farther apart.” Harry gently tapped her ankle with his foot. “Look. I want you to see everything I do to you.” He held her gaze in the mirror. “Watch me.”
Harry’s fingers moved between her thighs, disappearing into the dark thatch of hair with a languid flick of his wrist.
Another low moan came from her.
“Right there, my lovely girl.” The words sent another fierce ache low in her belly, twisting with greater intensity. The scrape of his fingers, so rough against her tender skin, sank inside her.
She stiffened, taken aback by the invasion.
The fingers retreated an inch. “Such a lovely quim, Mrs. Estwood.” He toyed with that small bit of flesh hidden in herfolds once more before thrusting two fingers deep into her. The stretch was like nothing she’d ever imagined. Pleasurable, in the most decadent way. Over and over, his fingers stroked and teased until Lucy writhed and made incoherent sounds in his embrace.
“Pay attention, Lucy.” Harry sounded pained. Slightly out of breath.
She gazed at the woman reflected in the mirror, now transformed into a wild, sexual being with her hair streaming in disarray over her shoulders. One breast peeked through the waves of her hair, the nipple erect.
Harry’s wrist twisted, moving until Lucy could feel the slickness drawing down her thighs.
“Not flawed, Lucy. Perfect.Allmine.” His eyes lifted from the side of her neck, eyes glinting back at her like bits of pewter in the mirror. His thumb pressed down on that small, raised bit of flesh, teasing at it.
