drew on her, and it was as if he pulled something taut within her. Control fled. So did any lingering notion of decorum. She was going to make love to this man here and now, on the floor. And she did not give a fig if the servants knew what they were about behind the closed door.
Did not care about anything save the need roaring through her, setting her aflame.
She stroked him through the unwanted barrier once again, urging him on. “Now, Tom. I need you.”
Her words had the intended effect upon him. On another growl, he peeled away her drawers, leaving her in nothing but her stockings. He gently guided her to the plushness of the carpets. Together, they lay, Hyacinth on her back, Tom settling between her thighs as if he belonged there.
“I wanted to take my time,” he gritted, flipping a button from its mooring, then another. “But you undo me. I do suspect you have ruined me for every other woman who shall come after.”
His words had a sobering effect upon her. Hyacinth did not want to contemplate the women who would be his lovers. Hated, faceless, nameless ladies. She wanted to ruin him for them. To make certain no other lover could compare. Heaven help her, she wanted to cling to him now and never let him go. What was wrong with her? She was not meant to feel this way.
Their arrangement had always been destined to end.
She was saved from further thought and from having to respond by his mouth crashing down on hers. The kiss was powerful. Drugging. She knew, she thought, in some small measure, how an opium eater must feel. The need for him seemed to surpass her requirement for her next breath. He was all she yearned for.
He reached between their bodies, finally giving her what she wanted. He rubbed over her pearl with slow, steady pulses that had heat shooting from her center and sparking out all over her like fireworks. A long finger dipped inside, testing her readiness. She cried out and arched into him, bringing him deeper. She was so slick, so eager for him.
And Tom was similarly plagued, for he did not remove his trousers. Instead, he withdrew his finger from her sheath to tear at his falls, opening them the rest of the way. In the next breath, he was sinking into her. One powerful thrust. He had not broken their kiss.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and tipped her hips, driving him deeper still. She was restless. She did not want a slow and tender seduction. She wanted instead a ravenous tupping. She wanted him to fill her, to fuck her, to make her his as no other ever would.
Their joining was fierce.
Skin slapped together, bodies moved as one, lips and tongues fused. She clung to him, her body overwhelmed by his in the best possible way. How had any other woman ever left this man? How had his betrothed walked away from him? It was impossible to comprehend as he made love to Hyacinth now with a decadent combination of frenzy and tenderness.
He kissed her as if she were made of glass. He slammed into her as if he wanted to impale her to the floor. His mouth moved from hers, dragging down her throat to the place where her shoulder and neck met. Gently, he bit on the sensitive cord, sending a rush of liquid heat straight through her.
Pleasure burst. She clamped on him, finding her release in a brilliant streak of color. Her release seemed to gush from her, bathing his cock. He moaned into her skin and fucked her harder, his hips crashing into hers with deliciously painful force. Had they been on a bed, she had no doubt they would have been crashing the headboard into the wall.
“Tom,” she gasped as he slammed into her again, sending her sliding across the rug.
Tomorrow, she would find the evidence of their wild coupling, she knew, and she would love every mark, every hint of the way he had loved her.
“Ah, damn, you feel so bloody good,” he said, his voice low and decadent as velvet. “So perfect, sweetheart. Too perfect. Too good.”
She knew what he meant, because he felt the same to her. He always had.
From the moment he had asked her for a kiss in the moonlight, she had been thoroughly, helplessly smitten with this man. She had been his.