Wicked Again (The Wickeds #7) - Kathleen Ayers Page 0,38

couldn’t have moved even if she were on fire. Which, technically, she supposed, she was.

His teeth grazed her neck while his finger slid back and forth against her in a languid manner, searching and teasing until a soft moan escaped her.

“I can’t wait to taste you again, Marissa.” He took the whisky clutched in her hand.

Honestly, Marissa couldn’t believe she hadn’t dropped the damn glass what with holding her skirts and—

Her hips rocked forward as one of his fingers slipped inside her. Holding the glass of whisky in his other hand, he gave her a sip, making sure some spilled across her mouth. Haddon used his tongue to catch the drops of whisky before his mouth fell on hers.

I will drown in him.

The last bit of sense she still possessed fled as his lips trailed over hers. The kiss was gentle, unhurried, but spoke of months of hunger and longing. His fingers never stopped moving against her, stroking and teasing until she made a small sound in her throat.

Haddon’s mouth left hers. “Is there something you wish to say, Marissa?”

“No.” Her thoughts were a floating, jumbled mess. “Only that I’m—” Her words halted as his forefinger found a particularly sensitive spot and a soft moan left her. “Wet.”

“Yes. You most certainly are.” His fingers cautiously circled the small pearl hidden in her folds. The hand holding the glass of whisky gently tipped up her chin, forcing her to look at him as he toyed with her flesh. The thick length of him seared the skin of her thigh.

Marissa swayed on her feet, skirts twisting in her fingers. “I was under the impression—you weren’t interested in—” Her breath caught as he sunk another finger inside her. “Me.”

“I never said that, Marissa.” His thumb flicked against her until she whimpered with need. “You assumed I didn’t want you.” The pressure increased. “I only said your objections were exhausting.” Haddon nipped at her bottom lip. “Which they are.”

“But—”

“I’ve two questions.” His tongue returned to her mouth, running along her lower lip.

“Yes?” she said in a shaky voice. Pleasure spiraled up inside her, tightening into a small knot. Unbearably close. She strained toward it, her legs trembling as she struggled to stay upright.

“Are your servants discreet?”

“What?” Oh, dear God, he was pressing a spot with his thumb and moving his fingers in and out, until she thought she might— “Yes. Of course.”

“Good.” He loomed over her, sinking a third finger inside to join the others, tips grazing against a spot which sent bolts of sensation shooting out across her body.

Haddon was very good at this. Seduction. Touching. Caressing. Dear God, no wonder half the women in the ton were chasing him.

“What is the second question?” Her voice raised an octave on the last word as his fingers curled again. “Please,” she whispered.

“Not yet, my love.” His lips brushed hers. “But soon. Is this dress a favorite?” He leaned over and set down the empty whisky glass.

“No,” she said, too focused on what his fingers and thumb were doing to her. “I only chose the dress today because the color complimented the hat.”

“Good.” His hands slowly fell away, stroking her lightly before he did so.

Marissa panted softly. Haddon would drive her mad with want. “No. Please.” She was very close to begging him.

A large, warm hand moved to cup the underside of one breast. He pressed a kiss to the exposed skin above her neckline before two knuckles sunk into the deep valley between them.

A tearing sound cut through the air as he jerked his hand, ripping the dress down the front.

“Oh, dear. I mean—” Marissa was aroused. Flustered. She’d never had a man want her so much he’d rip the clothes from her body.

The ache between her thighs intensified.

Pushing the wet dress from her shoulders, Haddon continued to tear at the poor garment until Marissa stood in nothing but her damp chemise and stays. He palmed one of her breasts, brushing his thumb against the tip of one hardened nipple. Then the heat of his mouth followed, sucking the small peak through the thin cotton of the chemise.

“Oh.” Her hands sunk into the damp strands of his hair. Tiny bursts of sensation radiated out from her breast, her inner muscles clenching, begging for the release only Haddon could give her.

His free hand took hold of her hip, teeth grazing over the taut bud of her nipple.

A knock sounded at the door. “My lady?” The muffled voice of her maid came from the other side