Page 29 of Rogue Lyon

He’d enjoy it while it lasted because any moment now, being a fine, upstanding, young woman, she’d bat him aside and admonish his behavior. Until then, he could pretend she was his.

Meredith knew she should stop, rein in the passion she felt in her chest, her belly, and between her legs.

But oh…just one more second, or two, in his arms.

She’d come this far. What did a few more strokes of his tongue, the feel of his heated breath, and hard body matter?

Oh, and he was solid beneath his crisp, linen shirt. Flesh over taut, hard muscle, so different to her own soft and slender body. And where they touched—chest, and lower—a thrill shot through her, from him to her, and created a fizz of excitement she’d never known before.

If Mrs. Dove-Lyon or her mother could see her now, she’d be kicked out onto the streets, shame scrawled across her back in soot.

But they couldn’t see her, and, if she weren’t to wed, then she had to take a little pleasure where she could.

“You are the loveliest creature I have ever kissed,” Jules murmured as he backed her into the room to their left. “And you taste of all my favorite things rolled into one delicious flavor.”

She giggled and ran her hand over his shoulder, learning the shape of him. “Jules.” The name was breathless and stroked over her tongue. “What are you doing?”

“Living in the moment.” He kissed over her cheek to her neck.

She sighed and fluttered her eyes closed. His touch was like a butterfly, so soft and sensual, and her trembles of desire went right to her core.

Suddenly, she felt something against the back of her legs. A bed. And then she was being pressed backward, in his arms, and she landed on soft covers.

“Jules.” She gripped his biceps. He was thinking of sex, she knew that. She was too, and she wasn’t ashamed of her desire. “We… We shouldn’t… It’s improper.”

“Too late for that.” He grinned in such a sinful and wicked way, her traitorous body wanted him all the more. Surely, it was illegal for a man to be so handsome, so utterly tempting to the point that resistance was futile.

He slipped his hand from her neck, to her throat, and then to her right breast. Squeezing her soft flesh through her gown, he stared into her eyes. “I know you are untouched.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And I wouldn’t take your maidenhood unless you begged me to.” He swept his lips over hers and moved his hand to her left breast.

A small gasp caught in her throat and for a moment, she wished they were both naked, writhing together in a sweaty tangle, crying out with pleasure and demanding more.

She was heady with desire, a new sensation that had her heart rate rocketing and her skin alive with need. The girls at the Lyon’s Den had talked of this sensation and now she understood.

“But let me touch you…” His hand drifted lower, over her belly, her thigh, and then, at her knee, he began to roll up her gown a few inches at a time.

Cool air swirled around her lower legs and a tremble attacked her thighs.

“Shh,” he said, his lips against hers. “And take the pleasure I can give you.”

His fingers were roaming up her inner thigh, closer and closer, a hairsbreadth from her cunny lips and then… Oh, he stroked over her most sensitive spot and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

She arched her back and groaned, a new type of greed taking a hold of her and blocking out everything else.

“You’re so soft and perfect,” he murmured.

She opened her eyes and stared into his, desperate to see his truth. She could read people well—cards and chess had honed that ability—and she saw adoration, lust, and reverence.

Seeing those things made her braver, wanton, even, and she parted her legs a little, wanting more of his touch.

“My sweet girl,” he said as he kissed her again.

Meredith gave herself up to it and pulled him closer as his clever fingers touched her most private place.

A moment of shyness crept into her mind, but she shoved it away. What he was doing felt good, so good. A heated wetness coated her cunny and when he found her little bud again and circled it with the perfect pressure, she stopped kissing him and surrendered to the experience, concentrating on the bliss.