An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,72
and she just wanted to burn.
Rule: give the woman what she wants.
So he sucked her lip and dragged his hands along the curve of her thighs, her waist, up to her breasts. God. He’d never get enough of her breasts, full and so easily teased and aroused. When she was breathing hard and writhing for more, he moved lower, pressing a trail of kisses across her belly.
“Not exactly eighteen anymore,” she murmured, stupidly apologetic.
He gave a little laugh. “Me, neither. And here you are, more beautiful than ever.”
“You know just what to say to make a girl fall for you.”
“The truth? It works wonders.”
“Stop being so perfect.”
He hovered over her, his strong arms supporting him. She could feel his arousal against her entrance, hot and hard. He gave her a rakish grin. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”
“No. Yes. Dalton . . . just kiss me. Just take me.”
Beatrice lay back on his bed, her hair tumbled around her. Nowhere she had to be, nowhere she’d rather be. Dalton above her. His body was glorious—all muscles and naked and hers to touch and pleasure. And his touch was exactly what she had been starving for.
He had been hell-bent on destroying her and tonight he was hell-bent on pleasing her.
Sigh. Even though she had been headstrong and outspoken and the wrench in his machine.
Not all men looked upon women like that with such lust, and maybe even love.
She knew. Oh, she knew.
She could just be herself. She could let go and enjoy herself. Thoroughly. Completely. Unapologetically.
He caressed her, everywhere, with a touch that was something like reverential but less delicate. Like he knew she wouldn’t break. Like he was intent on enjoying her and learning her and knowing her. And she gave him the same attention—curve of his biceps, the planes of his chest that tapered to his waist and . . . the evidence of his arousal for her. She took the length of him in hand and the soft hiss from his lips made her feel like a siren.
He continued to kiss his way down her belly and lower still.
It was the easiest thing in the world to moan softly in anticipation and part her legs when she felt the stubble of his cheeks on her inner thighs, when she was achingly aware of how close his mouth was to bringing her to climax.
“Ooooh,” she sighed as she felt his mouth, hot and tender, expertly teasing and stroking her, making the pleasure and the pressure build and build. Her hands gripped the bedsheets.
He made up for years of cold loneliness with just his mouth. And his hands. And then things he said earlier and the promises she knew he would keep if she’d let him and oh.
“Oh, God.” She breathed hard as he slid one then two fingers inside of her, stroking smoothly. She writhed around him, pulling him closer, holding him tighter. He was making her feel the more feeling. Like she couldn’t get enough of his touch, or the intense way it made her feel.
More. She wanted more and she wasn’t sorry.
She wanted more and he was giving and she was taking.
More. More. More.
The orgasm snuck up slowly and then hit her all at once.
She cried out her pleasure and he didn’t stop.
There was still more.
Beatrice felt more alive than ever. She felt born again. She felt like she was flying. She felt free.
And before she could even catch her breath, he was moving to kiss her on the mouth, to capture the last of her cries, and his cock was throbbing at her sex, wanting more and she was wanting more, too.
Because when you are free to do whatever you want, when you are flying, when no scandal can touch you, when you are kissed like this, where there is love and lust and complications all tangled up, there is only one thing to do, one thing to say.
“Yes. More.”
She was, apparently, insatiable and he was hot, hard, and ready for her.
“So tell me how you imagined this,” she whispered, stroking the rigid length of him. She still hadn’t quite caught her breath. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest.
“It already doesn’t compare,” he said as he moved to straddle her, press his cock up against her sex. She sank into the mattress as his weight pressed down on her—was there any more exquisite feeling? She writhed a little, wanting him inside her, but still he teased.