“How do you want it?” he asked in a rough purr.
She considered. None of her prior lovers had ever asked that question. “Nothing feeble or indecisive. Strong. Forceful.”
“Rough, then?” His eyed gleamed.
Her breath snared. “Rough.”
“If there’s anything I do that you don’t like, tell me.”
“Will you stop? Even in the heat of things?”
“There’s no pleasure in it for me if you don’t feel that pleasure, too.”
She stared at him for a moment, before answering, “I will tell you. But right now, I have no intention of stopping you. In fact, I insist we continue at once.”
He made a low rumble, then hauled her against him, his chest forge-hot. With long, deep, searching strokes, he kissed her. He plucked off her fichu before his hand dipped beneath her low bodice to stroke her breasts. His fingers far more dexterous than she would have believed for such a large hand, he found her nipples and teased them into even harder points. She moaned as he pinched them, one after the other.
And then in an instant she was on her back, amongst the piles of blankets. He stretched above her, kissing her with commanding ferocity. Settling between her parted legs, he pushed his hips into hers, placing the ridge of his cock exactly where she wanted it. She ground into him, bursts of gleaming pleasure building at the place where they rubbed against each other.
“Wish I lived in a palace,” he rumbled. “I’d take you there.”
“I don’t need…a palace,” she gasped.
“But a palace bedchamber is amply furnished with couches and tables and any number of delectable places where I could fuck you. As it is, I have to make do with just my bed.”
“A bed is sufficient,” she managed. “I’ve a feeling you’ll rise to the occasion.”
“Indeed, my lady Jessica, I have risen to new heights.” She moaned as he punctuated this statement with a thrust of his hips.
She could already feel a climax building from just this alone. But when she pushed herself up against him, he pulled back.
“Not yet, jewel,” he murmured, edging down her body. “There’s more I want.”
Her skirts and petticoats were shoved about her legs as Ezra knelt down between them. He stroked his hands up her stocking-clad calves and then higher, lifting her skirts even more as he moved. The look on his face was nothing less than predatory, his eyes almost shining with hunger.
“Vixen,” he rumbled. “You knew precisely how you teased me, back at the carriage, revealing these magnificent legs in these pink stockings.”
“They’re rose, not pink.”
“The color of the deepest, most private part of a rose. But that view at the carriage was too brief. I’ll take my leisure now.”
“I thought you were feeling impatient.”
“Not too impatient to linger over these.” He skimmed his hands along her legs, heat from his palm soaking through her thin stockings, tracing over the clocking that curled from her ankle up her calf. His warmth seeped into her skin when he reached her bare thighs.
God! She was shaking, as if she were a virgin from the schoolroom and not an experienced woman of eight and twenty years. She had to master herself, control this desire for him before it burned her to cinders.
She could take command of this moment. She would lead the dance.
Jessica reached down to untie her garters and kick off her buckled shoes, but his hand stopped her.
“Leave them on,” he said darkly.
She propped herself up on her elbows to see him better, his expression sharp with animal ferocity. He bent low to run his open mouth along her legs, ankle to thigh. Shivers chased through her body at the feel of his lips on her legs, his breath on places that never received a man’s entire attention. He was reverent with her, touching and kissing up and down her legs until she shook.
“The feast must continue.” With gentle insistence, he pushed her skirts up even farther.
Her sex was now bared to him. He stroked through the triangle of dark curls above her drenched slit. A deep growl reverberated through him and traveled into her body.
