Page 7 of To Tame a Wicked Widow

“If you don’t, I may strangle you,” she replied, her breath catching when he began to circle her left nipple with a fingertip.

“Hmmm,” he said slowly, moving his finger to rub across the taut peak. “Petal soft. And getting darker in hue. Do you like being stroked here?”

Madeline gasped. “Harder. Pinch them. Some women don’t enjoy it, but I…I like a bite of pain.”

“Do you?” he mused. “Show me.”

“Like this.” Obediently, she cupped her breasts in her palms, using her index and middle fingers to firmly and rhythmically pluck each nipple. Hell. He couldn’t allow too much of this erotic show, or he’d be coming like a geyser without even getting inside her.

“Do you like having them sucked?”

“Yes. And bitten,” she said huskily, lifting one breast higher in encouragement. “Go on.”

A part of him rebelled at the order. When he leaned down, instead of tending to her nipple, he tilted his head and kissed her.

Fire.

So sweet. Brandy and something entirely Madeline. Intoxicated by the warmth, the tentative dart of her tongue, he cupped her face and plundered her mouth. She moaned, the needy sound music to his ears, and he was glad that in the past he’d at least had the sense to practice kissing with several willing maids, even if he’d never gone further.

Eventually she pulled away, her lips gratifyingly pink and swollen. “My nipples,” she said, not an instruction but a plea, and Ethan smiled.

“I have passed the kissing exam, then?” he replied, weighing a breast in each hand and tormenting the rock-hard peaks with his thumbs.

“Indeed. One hundred percent, I am p-pleased and surprised to report.”

“Surprised?” Ethan replied, tweaking her nipples in retaliation, and she immediately pressed them harder against his hands in an unspoken request for more. “I should hope I can kiss at least. I haven’t been living entirely as a monk.”

“Then prove it. Further down. Or much further down, if you dare.”

He grinned. “A terrible pun, my lady. So terrible, in fact, you deserve a thorough tongue lashing.”

Madeline trembled, and almost clumsy in her haste, shifted back on the bed to rest on one elbow while her other hand delved between her legs to stroke the glistening curls guarding her mound. “Then I shall dutifully accept my punishment.”

Fierce lust coursed through him. Punishment? The lady should be careful what she wished for. He’d read countless tales of sexual discipline, and it was entirely too easy to imagine Madeline’s rounded backside spanked pink and warm, or stuffed with a thumb-sized dildo. Her wrists bound above her head, small jeweled clamps on her nipples, while she sobbed her need and begged him to let her come…

Ethan quickly shook his head to clear the ridiculous thoughts. Madeline was doing him an enormous favor, and this was strictly a one night liaison. Besides, if he wanted to indulge in real life the kind of play that aroused him most, he’d probably have to visit one of those high-end pleasure clubs in London. Most ton ladies would run screaming at even the thought of such hedonistic acts.

No, he had to concentrate on the here and now, and not ponder what would never be.

* * *

Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

The word echoed in Madeline’s head, but the damned man had paused. Why had he shaken his head and frowned? Was there something about her he didn’t like?

Dismay twisted around her heart and squeezed. Quickly followed by irritation that Ethan could even draw forth such a response. The only way she’d been able to endure her marriage, the never ending lectures, being locked in her chamber, the spite from her husband’s sisters, had been to build a sturdy wall around her emotions. This young lord, this virgin could not have eased past her defenses already. Then the frown cleared and he shed his robe, looking so much like a rogue pirate with his burnished amber eyes and bronzed skin, that a flood of moisture soaked her pussy.

“Seen your fill, madam?”

“Never,” she said promptly. But in truth, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders, the hair dusted chest, sculpted abdomen, and hard thighs. Or the thick, fully erect cock she would soon, God willing, be stuffed full with. “I’m admiring your sun-kissed coloring.”

“A few ancestors on my mother’s side were Spanish, arranged marriages to gain favor with Katherine of Aragon. Apparently it manifests every few generations…when I go outside, I do tend to tan.”

“I like it. You look like a conqueror of old. Or a pirate.”

Ethan laughed as he knelt between her thighs. “Then do allow me to enjoy the spoils.”

Seconds later, he lashed her right nipple with the tip of his tongue. She moaned, arching her back and nudging her breast closer. A benevolent conqueror, he took the swollen tip in his mouth and sucked it.