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Chapter 6
Emma’s breath strangled in her throat.
Elliot’s finger was inside her, and it was without a doubt the strangest and most compelling sensation. It was torture, and it was bliss. And she understood now how many ladies found themselves ruined for pleasure.
She’d always known he would make her feel this way. With just a few words and his wicked caress he brought all sorts of explicit fantasies to the forefront of her mind. She slowly twisted her head and met his eyes. His golden gaze was direct and challenging. He angled his sleek dark head to one side and studied her with unflinching intensity, without a doubt waiting for her reaction to his explicit promise.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
His chuckle against her ear was low and mocking, yet filled with heated promises. “If I tup you, I will take your mouth first, and I will not be sweet, princess.” His tone held a note of warning, and she wondered if he was really trying to scare her away.
He pressed more into her, his erection unmistakable. “Have you ever taken a cock in your mouth?” he growled with sensual menace.
She barely managed to maintain her calm composure. Were such things possible? He was definitely trying to scare her. Trying to make her change her mind. Emma was certain. She wasn’t about to, though she felt the heavy press of intimidation. She couldn’t even imagine Elliot taking her with the rawness he hinted. Her stomach fluttered with sudden nerves. Emma inhaled deeply. In this, she would not be proper. Not for this one night. She would be bold and adventurous; she would step out of the cage she’d opened fully from the moment she had entered the countess’s grand ballroom. “You may ravish me however you want for this night. Let me be wicked with you.”
He cursed virulently. She was right. He had not expected her to acquiesce. All of his crass words were to turn her away.
“Wicked with me?” he drawled menacingly.
“Yes!”
His finger left her body, and she bit back the protest. He trailed fingers wet with her essence up her neck to the corner of her lips. His thumb caressed her lips, and she could smell her own musky scent. She knew he did it to shock her. To show him she would not hide from his passion, she licked his fingers with a slow, deliberate curl of her tongue.
“Bloody hell.” His snarl vibrated in her.
He became a statue behind her, and she wished she could see his face.
“I want my sensibilities stripped.” Heat crawled up her neck, and she was glad he could not see it. She had already faced a monumental task in seducing him. It would not do for him to see her blushing. “I want excitement, and I want it for tonight. I want your co…cock in me like how you said. Not to be treated like a porcelain statuette of a woman. If you will not do it…”
He became dangerously motionless and her neck prickled in warning, all her instincts screaming for her to tread carefully. “I will not go home this night unsatisfied.”
There, that was better than saying she would seek someone else. She prayed he would not call her bluff. Because she wanted no one else, and she would go home cold and empty if he said no. She should have drunk another glass of champagne, at least for more courage. Her stomach quivered, and her knees wobbled. Thank God she hadn’t eaten anything, or she would be casting up her accounts and embarrassing herself any moment. She had never felt such nerves before. Not even years ago when she had kissed him and confessed her admiration.
She met his gaze. The intensity of his stare encompassed her entire body. Every dip, every hollow, and every curve felt the caress of his eyes as he probed. Anxiety cramped her gut. What if he knew it was her? Was that why he hesitated?
His voice was rough, deepened with arousal. “Widen your legs.”
Emma complied and pressed her face to the wall. The marble tiles cooled her heated cheeks, and she shivered.
“Grip the drapes.”
She held onto them. She knew Elliot. He sensed something about her that made him want to test her reaction. Oh God, what was it? He could not have suspected her. He would have sent her packing already. Wouldn’t he?
Two fingers suddenly speared inside of her, jerking her to her toes.
Heat, bliss, and a bite of pain cascaded through her core. “Elliot!” It was marvelously wild, and unlike anything she had ever dreamed of. What shocked Emma more than his rough actions was the pleasure that rolled over her, unexpected, seething, and powerful. She quivered, and a low moan, raw and fractured echoed from her lips as wetness gushed his hands.
“For the love of Christ!”
Laughter from below the balcony reached her ears along with the crash of glass. Her pulse fluttered frantically. She knew the alcove was too dark for anyone to see them, but she still couldn’t believe the position he had them in. He pressed into her, and she felt every indentation of his body. He kicked her already wide legs even wider and Emma’s breathing harshened. His fingers retreated and came back bringing delicious pleasure. He thrust harder, her breath hitched on a whimper, and he froze.
He groaned, and placed a wet kiss on her neck, and then a nip. “You’re tight.”
“You are talking too much.” Her voice was thick with tension, arousal, and her core clenched in hot need.
“Amelia …” The hard body curved around hers trembled.
Emma could practically feel his struggle.
