Chapter Nineteen
His eyes flashed. His hands tightened painfully. With a heavy growl, he lifted her hips from his lap so she kneeled above him.
Then he whipped his shirt off over his head.
Lydia’s gaze was enraptured by the sculpted planes of his torso.
The obvious lean strength. The satin texture of his skin as she braced herself with her hands on his shoulders.
She barely noticed as he kicked off his shoes and shifted beneath her to shove his breeches down until he could kick them away.
Within a moment, she got what she wanted.
Him. Naked. Her focus dropped to his cock jutting proudly from his groin to bob against his taut belly—barely a breath away from her near-dripping core.
It was intimidating and beautiful. A representation of carnal strength and vitality.
A viral reminder of masculine dominance in the act of lovemaking.
With this, he would enter her, claim her, change her.
Even as her insides tingled at the thought, her instinct was to resist that story. She didn’t want to be dominated. She needed to claim this for herself.
Then he grasped her waist in his hands and brought her to him.
She was still up on her knees astride his thighs, but the moment his warm skin touched hers and his hot mouth closed over her breast, her legs weakened and thoughts of dominance faded.
Her hips dipped involuntarily, slipping her aching folds over his scalding, smooth tip.
His hands tightened and his groan on her flesh was one of painful torment.
For Lydia, it was more like a revelation. That fleeting glide of satin steel against her slick heat. It was exactly what she’d been craving.
She did it again.
Deliberately, this time. Rolling her pelvis as she had when she’d been seated against him. Now, the contact was a bit more elusive, but the friction far more beautiful and stunning.
He released her breast and slid his mouth hotly up to the side of her throat where he murmured, “Wicked woman, are you trying to torture me?”
Lydia draped her arms around his neck, threading fingers through his careless locks of hair. “Does it torture you that I claim my own pleasure?” she queried, her voice husky.
“No,” he graveled, “only that you do not claim enough.” He tipped his head to meet her heavy gaze. The texture of his voice was roughened beyond recognition. The sound and the words rolled through her like a drug. “Take more, Lydia. Take all of me.”
Looking into the sensual glitter of his eyes, she rolled her hips, dipping her pelvis. The crown of his cock glided along her opening with enough length and pressure that she could feel the ridged head as it slipped over her clitoris.
Her moan was heavy and deep. She fisted her hands in his hair as tingling fire arced up her spine. But she refused to release his stare.
His hands moved from her waist, over her hips to grasp her buttocks. “More,” he growled.
Another roll of her pelvis, another hot stroke.
Then another, this one aided by the grip of his hands as her body lowered to lengthen the contact.
Their breath quickened. The pleasure deepened.
The tingling fire licked along every nerve and swirled wildly in her core.
She felt herself ascending again toward that peak.
Her movements grew more demanding as she tried to satisfy the need of her aching flesh. Over and over.
Until the angle changed suddenly and instead of sliding hotly along his length, the broad tip of him lodged against her opening with a jut of demanding pressure.
Her breath caught and she stilled.
Though he still met her gaze, his expression was hard as stone. His jaw clenched, his eyelids weighted, sweat beading on his brow. His need was clear to see. It consumed him. Yet, he waited. She could feel his pulse against her. And still, he waited for her to continue.
For Lydia, it was an odd moment, filled with a thousand thoughts and emotions.
She’d never imagined herself here.
As soon as she’d realized that the way she wished to live her life was not ever likely to be accepted or encouraged by a future husband, she’d decided she’d never marry.
The idea of someone having the power to decide her interests and activities and behaviors simply by the fact that he’d been born male was not something she would allow for herself.
So, that meant no husband.
In seeing Eleanor so happy in her relationship with her viscount, Lydia had recently begun to entertain the idea of taking a lover someday.
Once she was firmly entrenched into spinsterhood and her life was no longer lived for her family.
But she’d imagined that day being far into the future.
And she’d imagined a quiet, calm companionship. Not this.
Seeking Darlington’s gaze once again, she shivered at what she saw there.
The deepest hunger.
Silent torment.
Beautiful strength and willpower and an enormous amount of respect and consideration. For her. And her desires.
He probably didn’t even realize how intently he was assessing her needs in that moment, even as his gaze grew hazy with lust. But she could see it. She could feel his focused regard. His care.
Something warm and delicate burst in her chest, instantly igniting a flare of panic. He’d promised a safe place to free herself. And she’d never felt so liberated.
But she couldn’t be stupid.
*
Sweat rolled down the hollow of Edmund’s spine. His thighs ached with tension, his stomach muscles twitched, and his jaw ached.
Ecstasy was a breath away. Beckoning with sultry heat.
And he already knew it would be the most astoundingly pleasurable experience of his life.
Every moment he’d been with her in this room had proven that a hundred times over.
He could still taste her on his tongue, the honey-musk had filtered into his bloodstream, making him harder and more eager than he’d ever been.
He dared not think of how it would feel to bury himself in her lest he lose himself from the anticipation alone.
So, he held himself still while her cunt kissed his throbbing tip.
And her expression flitted through a thousand thoughts.
He tried not to focus too much on how beautiful her breasts looked in the dim candlelight; soft and pert and glistening from his mouth.
Or how her belly trembled and her thighs gently shook.
He forced himself to watch carefully for any nuance that suggested she was uncomfortable or uncertain or afraid.
It made him ill to think that her pleasure might be tethered by shame or regret.
But he wasn’t ignorant of how differently women must approach such things. The weighty consequences they might suffer were likely ever present in their minds. He would not undermine her right to such considerations.
So, he gritted his teeth and tried not to think of how close he was to heaven’s gate.
The subtle tightening of her hands on his shoulders sent shockwaves through his body. Then cool air bathed his cock as she angled her hips away from him to rest her buttocks on his taut thighs.
He didn’t intend the groan that escaped him, and he certainly didn’t expect the look of amusement that crossed her face in response. He still grasped her hips, and he tightened his hands on instinct, wanting to pull her farther into his lap. Somehow, he resisted. Barely.
He was about to ask her if she was alright when she spoke first, her voice husky and warm. “Have you a sheath?”
Edmund blinked, coughed, then stared at her in shock. “A what?”
“A sheath. To prevent conception,” she added matter-of-factly.
Too stunned to think through his words, he asked, “How do you know of such a thing?”
Her scowl was small but evident. “Ignorance is what keeps women from claiming—”
Edmund slipped one hand behind her nape to pull her toward him for a deep kiss. The impulse was triggered by a sudden burst of admiration, but he wasn’t ignorant of the benefit of having her mouth occupied with something far more pleasurable than a lecture just then.
When she was soft in his arms and his cock swelled painfully between their bellies, he drew back again. Her gaze glittered and her breath puffed against his cheek.
“In the pocket of my coat,” he whispered.
Her brows ticked upward. “You were that certain—?”
“Not certain,” he chuckled. “Prepared. I promised to be careful, and I meant it. There’s only one problem.” When her brow furrowed again, he grinned, “My coat is several feet away and I can’t bring myself to release you to fetch it. So, you’ll have to come with me.”
He looped his arms around her and stood, loving how she locked her legs around his hips.
She laughed and clung to him when he bent to rummage in his pocket for the sheath.
And dropped a hot kiss to the side of his throat when he straightened to walk back to the bed.
Before he could sit down again, she pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, “May I put it on you?”
Fire burst through him at the thought, and a moan of pleasurable anticipation rumbled through his chest. Just when he thought she’d surprised him the last time, she managed to shock him again.
His reply was barely audible. “If you wish.”
She asked, glancing down between them. “How do I…?”
“You’ll want—” Before he could finish, she leveraged against his shoulders to push herself off his lap.
For just a second, she stood in front of him.
Every curve and slope of her body were on display, her skin soft and smooth in the candlelight.
Then she lowered to kneel on the floor between his spread knees.
His heart fucking stopped. He must have made a sound of some sort, though he heard nothing as blood rushed past his ears like a tidal wave. Everything in him was focused solely on her.
She looked up at him with curious concern. But when she saw his expression, she smiled. A lovely, naughty smile. And her eyes glowed with a mysterious understanding. Then she tilted her head. “Do you like me kneeling before you?”