“Leave me to prepare myself,” she pleaded, even though it was not what she wanted.
He had started a fever within her.
“Relax,” he insisted, kissing her neck. His thumb grazed over that delicious place again.
She could not resist. Her body took control of her mind completely. She unclenched her thighs.
He made a low growl of approval, and then he shifted. His fingers found the place where his thumb had been, and he swirled them over her. “Good wife.”
His praise should have irritated her. She knew she ought to be putting up more of a fight rather than surrendering with such wanton ease. But the things he was doing to her, the pleasure radiating from the place where he touched her, astounded Callie.
Instead of protesting, she pressed her back to his lean form, resting her head against his chest. She was every bit as much his captive now as she had been the day he had taken her from London.
“Tell me now,” he murmured against her throat, “how does it feel? Does it feel like I will hurt you? Does it feel like I am a monster?”
No. It felt…
She searched for a word that could aptly describe the sensations building inside her.
Wicked. Good. Delicious. Sinful.
Somehow, the only word it ought to be—wrong—occurred to her last.
His fingers stilled, remaining on her, but ceasing their magical feats. “I cannot hear you, princess. How does it feel when I touch you here, when I pet your cunny? Do you like it?”
She wanted to tell him she did not like it, but she could not form the words. He resumed playing with her, rubbing harder and faster, and the raw pleasure inside her continued to build. Her breaths were ragged. She felt as if she were seeking something, but she did not know what it was.
He sucked on her skin. “Say the words or I shall stop again. Tell me you like it, and I will make you come.”
Callie knew what those vulgar words he had just uttered meant. Or, at least, she thought she did. The fast company she had kept in Paris had left her with knowledge no gently bred lady ought to possess. But there were words, and then there were actions. Nothing could have prepared her for ecstasy. Mere words could not possibly do it justice.
“Justin,” was all she could manage.
“Say my name.” He kissed her ear, her jaw. “Ask me to make you come.”
He was depraved.
But she was desperate. She scarcely even recognized herself. She needed whatever he would give her. Needed more.
“Please, Sin,” she forced out. “Make me come.”
He resumed where he had left off, but this time, he increased his pace and pressure on her sex. “You are learning, wife. Now kiss me like you did earlier in the carriage.”
She turned her head, and there was his handsome, wicked face. There were his beautiful lips. His gaze glittered in the low light. She was going to give him what he wanted. Because she wanted it, too.
Callie slammed her lips on his, kissing him hard. He groaned, the hand that had been on her breast moving to tangle in her hair and hold her still. His fingers tightened, angling her head to where he wanted her, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. He was torturing her, the hand between her legs pleasuring her with insistent, carnal demand.
Everything inside her tightened. She felt as if she was going to burst.
And then she did. The most astounding sensation hit her. Pure, delicious bliss, so fierce it was almost painful. Something inside her clenched. She cried out into their kiss, and he answered her with a groan. The fusion of their mouths became furious.
She wrapped her arm around his neck, holding him to her. She did not care that she was surrendering to his seduction. Did not care about anything other than the exquisite pleasure throbbing between her thighs and the connection of their lips.
Slowly, the desire ebbed. As the last ripples of her pinnacle undulated through her, he gentled the kiss, his pace on her sex slowing. Until at last, he tore his mouth from hers. They stared at each other, their breathing equally ragged.
She wondered what he saw reflected in her countenance. What she saw in his was a man caught in the throes of desire. It made her feel powerful. It made her want more.