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They didn’t go far. The viscount peeked inside a room a few doors down from the ballroom, then cocked his brow and led her inside.
Jo looked around as he dropped her hand and went to light a few candles. Only then did she recognize that this was a music room. The room musicians used to tune their instruments before their performances. The room where a lady would play the piano for her suitor.
The room that was currently unoccupied and free for them to use however they pleased.
Jo walked up to the viscount and ran her hand up his arm. “I thought we were going to your chambers,” she said in a sultry whisper.
He finished lighting the fourth candle and turned toward her, granting his full attention. “Too far,” he said as he raised his hand and caressed her cheek.
Jo smiled. He couldn’t wait to be with her, and the feeling was mutual.
Jo ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscles jumping from her touch. He was so strong, so warm, so wonderfully virile. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.
He instantly wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. His soft lips played over hers, suckling, then letting go, biting and licking. He tasted of wine with a masculine tint and a bit of salt. Somehow, the combination drove her wild.
Her back bent low from the onslaught of his hungry kisses, forcing her to grab onto his shoulders lest she lose her balance. She swept her tongue inside him, and he sucked on it lightly, forcing her to moan and clutch at him even harder.
With a groan, he swept her into his arms, gathered her against his chest, and walked toward the piano bench. He sat down on the narrow bench, lowering her across his thighs. Jo curled around him, not taking her arms from around his neck, and kissed him again.
Her breaths were ragged, but she was loath to let go of his lips in order to take a full breath. She’d rather suffocate than stop kissing him. Surely, this was some form of madness.
His hand took a hold of her ankle firmly, and she forgot her thoughts. His fingers gently traveled up her leg, raising the skirts of her gown as he did so. Jo gasped as he reached her knee and swept his thumb over the sensitive crease just under it.
The low tingle between her legs demanded contact with him. Her nipples ached against her bodice, and she wanted to rip her gown off.
She shifted on his lap, fighting to straddle him. Richard took her firmly by her thighs and settled her over him.
He watched her with a drunken gaze, his eyes hooded with passion, his lips puffy and wet. Jo nudged him with her nose before nipping at his full lower lip.
The playful gesture earned her a hungry kiss, the one where she was certain he would devour her if she’d let him. And oh, would she let him.
Suddenly, he stopped.
He eased her away as he breathed loudly and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat.
Jo lowered her forehead to his, their breaths mingling. “Didn’t you say that the door to your chambers was always open? I thought a gentleman never went back on his word.”
“Well, we are not in my chambers,” he crooned.
Jo squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to go to her empty room and lie with her thoughts and regrets all night.No. She wanted a night of passion. And the viscount before her was the only one who could provide that passion.
She lowered her hand to the bulge in his breeches and ran her fingers over it. He was so hard and hot even through the thick fabric.
“Fuck,” he growled and tightened his hold on her hair. “I don’t think you’re thinking clearly.”
She lowered her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “Today has been hard for me, my lord,” she said softly.
“You’re seeking distraction, then,” he croaked, his breathing ragged.
“No.” She shook her head and kissed him on the lips. “I am seeking comfort. I need to get away from all of this, if only for a second. I need the comfort of your arms and the relief of a little death.” She kissed him again. His eyes fell closed. He was obviously relenting. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Le petite mort.”
His mouth captured hers in a desperate kiss. No. It wasn’t a kiss. It was an invasion. His tongue plunged in and out of her mouth as he devoured her. His hands roamed her body as his hips moved in a seductive rhythm. He was attacking all her senses, making her mad with lust, with want.
Richard hooked his fingers over her bodice and tugged it down in one sharp motion. Her hands were pinned to the sides with her sleeves, limiting the places she could touch him. But then he dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth.
Jo cried out, her hips buckling. She arched, pushing her breast farther into his mouth. He swept his tongue around her nipple, and she curled her fingers harder into his waistcoat as the intense feeling of lust overwhelmed her. Her insides heated, and liquid seeped out of her center.
Jo’s hips couldn’t resist the rhythm of joining. She rode Richard, rubbing her pelvis against his breeches, dying to be ravaged by him entirely. Dying to feel him inside her. He matched her sensual rhythm, and they both whimpered on every thrust. At the same time, his tongue did unspeakable things to her breasts, and Jo could only moan, whimper, and call his name.
