Page 75 of The Lady Makes Her Mark

Dragging his mouth over her jaw to her ear, he whispered seductively, “I am eager to serve as your consort, Princess Constantia.”

He was teasing, of course, but still the title sent an unexpected shiver of delight down her spine. Or perhaps that was simply the heat of his breath.

“I fear a princess without a principality hasn’t any real power,” she retorted, reaching out to trace the open collar of his dressing gown. The V of bare skin displayed there was dusted with dark hair and deliciously warm.

His answering laugh was more than a little wicked. “Oh, my love, I wouldn’t say that.”

With one hand still on her nape, he held her in thrall to the kisses he pressed down on her throat and over her collarbone. His other hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirts and slid up her calf, raising the layers of wool and linen as he went. Then he bent his head and kissed a spot just above her knee. The forbidden excitement of his lips in such a place set up a desperate throbbing at the joining of her thighs.

Releasing her neck, he grasped her hip instead and tugged her forward several inches, her bottom sliding easily over the smooth leather seat. The sudden movement drove a squeak of surprise from her. She wasn’t alarmed, though she thought perhaps she should be, given the fiery expression in his eyes when he looked up at her from between her spread knees.

“Well, your highness? Will you let me worship you as you deserve?”

Despite her scattered wits, she managed what she thought was a very regal-sounding “You may.”

With teasing kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, he made his way to her mound. His breath was hot against her private curls, the feel of his mouth there like nothing she could have imagined. When his tongue slid into the seam of her sex, she thought she might die of the pleasure. Her heart banged against her ribs, and she dug her fingers into the arms of the chair, trying to keep herself from flying apart, trying to drag herself closer to him.

At that, his low chuckle vibrated through her most intimate places. Hooking her knees over his shoulders, he opened her more fully to his passionate onslaught. The shockingly decadent sounds of his mouth and tongue against her slickness brought a flush of heat to her chest. Without conscious thought, she moved her hands to his head and drove her fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer still. His lips found that little bundle of nerves and he began to suck, ratcheting her need higher and higher until she shattered, her release almost painful in its intensity. Her thighs trembled and clenched around his head as he gentled his ministrations, easing her through the crisis until she shuddered once more and finally slumped, spent, in the chair.

“Don’t fall asleep, Princess,” he teased, nuzzling her inner thigh with a wet kiss. “I need you in my bed.”

With what seemed to her extraordinary energy, he leaped to his feet and helped her to stand on rather wobbly legs, then divested her of her clothing more quickly than she would have imagined possible.

“You were beautiful tonight in that gold dress,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her. “But not more beautiful than you are out of it.”

She had felt beautiful then, with his sisters fussing over every detail of her appearance as no one ever had. But nothing compared to the way she felt in this moment. Worshipped, as he’d said. Adored. Loved.

When she reached for the tie of his dressing gown, she discovered he wore nothing beneath. “Somehow,” she said, her voice breathy in spite of her intent to tease, “I imagined you the sort of man who would wear a nightshirt.”

“Did you?” He shrugged, once, and the heavy silk slithered to the floor. “Well, my dear, it turns out I’m not nearly as dull and proper as certain people have made me out to be.”

She lowered her eyes at that, but only to rake them over his body. “It seems I still have much to learn,” she said, reaching for him.

“And here I thought you might be rather sh-shy.” He hissed in a breath when her fingertips brushed along the heated length of his member.

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“The, uh, the second portrait, shall we call it?” His eyes gradually lost their focus as her touch grew more insistent. “You drew me with a sheet draped over my middle, and that’s not quite how I remember posing for you.”

“Oh, that picture.” A tiny flicker of alarm passed through her as she recalled when and where he’d seen it. “Oh, my goodness. Is it still lying in the studio for anyone to see?”

“No.” His hand encircled hers, firming her grip, teaching her how to stroke him. “I, um, I went back for it later. While you were working in the library. It’s safely stowed away.”

Relief and amusement escaped her in a shivery breath. “Excellent. Then I can finish it properly.” She watched their joined hands slide over his cock. “Once I’ve had the chance to study my subject more carefully.”

“I’m all yours, whenever you wish.” His breaths were coming more rapidly. “But right now, I need—”

She thrilled at the wolfish eagerness with which he prowled closer, propelling her backward until they reached the bed. When she turned, he dropped his head to nip the place where her neck joined her shoulder. His arms came around her and his hands covered her small breasts, his thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples.

Then, as she prepared to climb onto the high mattress, the movement of her hips seemed to snap the thin tether on his desire. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her bottom and in another moment, she felt his shaft at the entrance to her body.

“Yes?” Part growl, part desperate plea.

“Yes.” She canted her hips backward and he filled her on one long, glorious slide. Gripping the coverlet, she tried to capture every sensation, the hair on his chest as it tickled across her back, the heat of him, inside and out, as he drove into her again and again, pushing her toward another shattering climax. One of his hands cinched her hips to his as he spent, while the other slid languorously up her spine. “Definitely not dull or proper,” she said with a soft, wondering laugh as he dropped a kiss onto her shoulder.

“No,” he agreed, and felt his lips curve into a smile. “Because I’ve wanted to do that since that night at the pub, when you asked me to help you out of your dress.”

“Ah,” she said, recalling the state he’d been in the next morning. Perhaps he was a bit wild himself, a bit rakish after all? “But it’s probably for the best that you held off until we had a sturdier bed.”

Laughing, he withdrew, but he did not let her go. “Stay with me,” he said, sweeping back the covers.

“What will your aunt think? Or your sisters? Or—oh, good heavens—the rector?!”

He hoisted her into the bed with surprising ease, then snuggled in beside her. “They’ll think that I’m the luckiest man in the world.”