Making of a Scandal - Victoria Vale Page 0,98

wonder as it fell loose lock by lock, down to her hips. When the last pin was gone, he threaded his fingers through the bone-straight strands made slightly wavy from being coiled up. He drew it over her shoulders and fanned it out, watching as it slipped through his fingers and fell over her breasts, the tips tickling her belly.

“Better than I imagined,” he said with a little smile, crouching to lift her in his arms.

Calliope clung to him as he carried her to the bed, laying her down and standing back to undress. She braced herself on her elbows to watch, the tension in her belly winding tighter with every inch of flesh he bared. She’d never seen these parts of a man. The column of his throat, the flat ridge of his belly and its trail of hair, the broad plane of his chest peppered with more of the same. His long arms, etched with sinewy lines and bulging veins, biceps giving in to strong forearms and the hands that knew where and how to touch her. His shoes hit the floor, his stockings peeled away, his breeches swiftly following. Then, he was bared to her entirely, the totality of him robbing her of breath.

He seemed taller out of his clothes, his legs endless and notched with more of the lean muscle blanketing his frame. His cock was terrifying and marvelous all at once, hard and long, curving up toward his navel in its aroused state, the swollen head glistening. She bit her lip, remembering the feel of the steely organ in her hand. It had been intimidating enough then, peeking out from the confines of his clothes, but looked even more alarming now that she realized where he meant to put it.

Her legs squeezed together as a pang of anxiety rippled through her, but true to form, Dominick was having none of that. He climbed onto the bed and ran his hands up her calves, gripping beneath her knees and prying them apart. She fell onto her back as he raised one leg, his lips caressing the arch of her foot, her ankle, then lower until his tongue was tickling the inside of her thigh. He draped the leg over his shoulder, eyes flashing up at her through disheveled strands of his hair. His hand palmed her other thigh, pushing it open to spread her wide. She whimpered, her face burning as the urge to cover herself and the need to experience what he had in store warred within her.

“Christ, the way you look just now,” he murmured, his breath teasing her wet, tender flesh. “So delectably innocent, just waiting to be ravished.”

She laughed, the sound shaky and tinged with her nervousness. “What a wicked rake you are, sir.”

“Your rake now,” he murmured, flicking his tongue at her in a tentative overture.

Her entire body went rigid, her thighs pressing inward. But he merely held her open, his smile feral and filled with promise as he lowered his head to go back for more.

“And yes, goddess … I am about to do very wicked things to you.”

His mouth on her eradicated any response she might have formed, and there was nothing left to do, to say, to think. There was only sensation, his lips soft and teasing against her mons, his tongue sliding along the hidden folds and the sensitive bud. Her eyes slid closed and she gasped for breath, hardly accustomed to one thing before he’d layered another manipulation over it. He didn’t just kiss and lick, he sucked, clasping her pulsing clit between his lips and pulling on it with gentle tugs. He used his fingers to spread her open, lewd sounds emitting from him as he lapped and sucked as if he derived his own satisfaction from the act.

And what an obscene act it was, intimate and improper, and so blissful Calliope thought she might weep. Calliope gripped the coverlet with shaking fingers, her hips flexing of their own accord, as if her body instinctively knew how to demand more of what it craved.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered, gently biting the inside of one thigh. “Ride my mouth … take your pleasure from me.”

She gasped when he latched onto her again, his tongue rubbing and circling with perfect precision. The last of her shyness fell away. If he could be so wicked, why couldn’t she? Bracing her feet against the mattress and raising her hips came as the most natural thing in the world, pressing

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