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She closed her eyes, enjoying the sound of his raspy tone much more than she ought. Knowing that she possessed all the control, that she had the full power over his pleasure, was stronger than the most potent scotch she could have consumed. Her head was spinning with this newfound intoxication.
“I need to touch you.” His voice was a dark, delicious murmur. “Will you let me?”
“Later.” How could her voice remain so calm when she was unraveling on the inside? “But first…”
She fell to her knees and opened her mouth to envelope his engorged manhood all the way to the hilt. She saw him fist the counterpane in his grasp, a low groan escaping low in his chest. “You are going to unman me.”
She said nothing, merely continued to tease him with her mouth and tongue. It wasn’t until she gently began to massage the sacs beneath that his hips started to thrust of their own accord. “Isadora.” His voice was almost pleading in its intensity. “I can’t hold back any longer…”
Knowing that he was close, she quickened her pace until he grasped the the back of her head and the first, hot jets of his release hit the lower section of her throat. She swallowed instinctively as he poured everything that he had into her.
When she was sure he had found all his pleasure, she sat back on her heels as he fell back against the bed. His breathing slowly went from erratic to steady and normal. It wasn’t until he lifted his head and pinned her with a look that spoke of dark, sensual promise, that her pulse leapt in her breast.
He stood up and she stumbled to her feet as he ripped off his jacket. His gaze never left hers as he untied his cravat and discarded the strip of material. He pulled his shirt over his headand tossed it to the side. Naked from the waist up, her lips parted upon seeing his chiseled form. From the firm chest, to the defined abdomen, and strong arms that bunched with his every movement, he was a wondrous sight to behold. It was as if one of the Elgin marbles from the British museum had turned to flesh and bone.
His gaze glittered, his mouth twitching with a sly grin, as he strode to her. “Now it’s my turn.”
Isadora gasped when he caught her arm, but it wasn’t from fright. Her core was throbbing with the need to have his hands on her. She could have wept when he didn’t immediately touch her. Instead, he untied her corset and discarded it, followed swiftly by her cotton petticoat and shift. He left her stockings on, the last item of clothing she wore, and then carried her to the bed and laid her down. He joined her, splaying his hands across her ribcage. He lowered his head, but instead of kissing her, he took one of her hard nipples into his mouth. She moaned, her back arching for more.
One of his hands slipped downward, and the first brush of his fingers against her mound made her cry out. He paused. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.” She shook her head, and cried out, “More.”
She held her breath, his hand tantalizingly close to her center. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to be this close to another person. She told herself she could live without the carnal side of her nature, that she could suppress it, just like the yearnings of her heart. She had buried them deeply for a long time, but when the marquess had swept into her life, all those doors had started to open again. With the recent unions of her sisters, the desires that she’d ignored for so long had started to return. She told herself that once her body was satiated, she could return to normal, just as before.
Isadora closed her eyes as he inserted a finger into her channel. The slick sensation of heat made her lift her hips in anurgent plea. She moved her legs restlessly, because she knew she was close to something spectacular. The surprise, hasty coupling with the baron had been over almost before it had even begun.
Although it scared her to admit it, what she’d felt all those years ago wasn’t anything like the urges pulsing through her body now.
“I need to taste you.”
Isadora didn’t have time to react, because he was already sliding down her body. Lifting her legs over his shoulders, he set his mouth on the juncture between her thighs. His tongue was even more shocking than his wicked hands, and as she watched him pleasure her, her hips lifted off the bed with an even greater sense of urgency.
The combination of it all caused the dam to burst.
Suddenly, Isadora started to come apart. She grasped handfuls of the bedclothes and held her breath as time and space condensed into one. Bursts of light, more brilliant than the fireworks at Vauxhall, shot through her as she gave in to the rapture.
For an eternity, she was dazed, her head spinning in the aftermath. She was feeling more replete than she had ever thought possible.
But when the marquess started to position himself above her, she set a restraining hand on his chest. As much as she might regret her actions, she said softly, “This is where it has to end.”
His jaw clenched, but he reluctantly moved to the side and fell to the bed on his back. She took note of his cock, proudly standing erect once more, and reached out a hand to stroke him. It wasn’t long before the veins in his neck began to stand out prominently as he reached his second climax. She devoured the sight of those white-hot streams spurting onto his lower belly.
Afterward, he raised an arm and laid it across his forehead as his breathing returned to normal. Only then did he turn to her with a mix of something like disbelief, and reverence. He clearedhis throat. “That was… unexpected.” He blinked, as if he was somehow, still in some sort of dream world.
She smiled tightly, and even though her body was still humming with her own pleasure, she forced herself to move from his side. “It would be best to imagine it that way, because now that it’s over, we shall speak of it no more.”
She started to dress.
Remington didn’t knowwhat to say, or how to react. In truth, he was in shock. But it was so much more than that. His body was completely satisfied, more so than he had been in a long time. But his brain was muddled, his entire emotional foundation shaken beyond words.
He climbed out of the bed and tucked his manhood in his trousers. It was then that he realized he hadn’t even removed them completely. He released a frustrated sigh, still buttoning the falls, when he said, “You can’t actually expect me to pretend as though what just happened here didn’t really occur.”
Her back was to him and she had already donned her shift and petticoats. He wanted to rip them off her, but he knew that would simply lay her body bare, and it was her heart he was after. The one thing he wasn’t certain he could ever actually reach.
When she was fully dressed, she turned back to him. Although that glorious, dark mane was still flowing freely. He wanted to bury his hands in that thick length.
“Why not?” she returned, reminding him of his query. “Men do it all the time when they visit a bawdy house. They use the woman for their pleasure and take their leave, the moment ultimately forgotten.”
