Page 30 of The Best Marquess

His fingertips continued to torment her, and she leaned back further, spread her thighs wider, so he might have easier access to her slick center. But Finn was in no hurry, the terrible man. No, he merely petted the crisp hair of her bush, then trailed up to stroke the skin just above her mound.

“More,” she whispered, now understanding precisely why those in romance novels begged for release. Her entire world had reduced to one agonizing need: orgasm.

Finally, one blunt fingertip parted her bush and lightly stroked the tender flesh. At the jolt of sensation, Pippa jerked.

“Your pussy is dripping wet,” murmured Finn in her ear, before nipping the side of her neck. He sounded idle, but underneath her bottom his cock was stone-hard.

She quivered, her hands gripping the blanket. “That is f-factually correct.”

“Would you like to come?”

“You know I would.”

“Then beg,” he rasped, his thumb circling her clitoris. Nudging it. Making her soaked pussy burn, until at last he cupped her mound, almost possessively.

Pippa closed her eyes, so near to orgasm she could scarcely breathe. “Please. Please…Oh!”

His free hand clamped over her mouth just in time to muffle her shriek of joy as the heel of his hand pressed her clitoris and his middle finger shallowly penetrated her entrance, setting off a wild, exhilarating internal explosion.

Finn. Finn had made her come. In a curricle. Under a tree in Hyde Park.

And it had been better than she’d ever imagined.

Romance novel characters were absolutely correct: giving the person you loved an orgasm was a triumph. A marvel. A wonder that deserved no less than full trumpet fanfare.

As Pippa trembled and panted in his arms, Finn continued to stroke her clitoris, although delicately now. His composure hung by a thread; he was torn between strutting about like a rooster and informing all and sundry that he’d just made his lady come, and groaning in pain because his cock was about to burst through the fabric of his trousers.

“Finn,” she breathed, turning her head to rub her cheek against his. “That was…satisfactory.”

He froze. “Satisfactory?”

Pippa laughed. “If I say it was splendidly incomparable, the greatest event in the history of the world, what do you have to aspire to next time?”

Wicked woman.

What would the comte do in such a situation? Or the reclusive laird for that matter?

Make her come again, of course.

Decision made, Finn began to circle her clitoris with greater purpose. While Pippa thought he’d been teasing her earlier, he had in fact been learning her body by touch alone, where she was especially sensitive, whether she preferred a lighter or firmer touch. It did add spice to the occasion, feeling but not seeing, especially out here in the fresh cool air with the birds chirping and the Serpentine flowing nearby.

It was also a torture though; for when the blanket moved, he caught the scent of the sweet pussy currently soaking his fingertips. His mouth watered to feast, to lick and suck and plunge his tongue inside her until she came in his mouth. But a curricle really wasn’t the best location for that. Too cramped and high off the ground.

Rather perfect for his fingers to work some more magic, however.

“Something wrong?” he asked, when Pippa whimpered.

She tilted her hips in an unmistakable gesture. “I…ah…”

“Say it.”

“I find myself needing another orgasm. Is that unfair? You haven’t had any…ooooh…and your cock is so hard.”

Finn gently eased two fingers inside her pussy, a fraction deeper this time. “Not at all unfair.”

Pippa gasped. “I like this very, very much. Could you push your fingers deeper still? Apparently, there is a spot there…mmmmmm.”

He tsked. “I’m going to have to cover your mouth again, aren’t I?”