Page 87 of How to Start a Scandal

She released her hold on the final bit of clothing and let it join the silk gown on the floor. He stepped back to look at her and drew in a quiet breath. Violet clenched her hands to keep them from crossing back over her chest while his gaze rose from the blue satin slippers to the white silk stockings tied just above her knees, and up to where there was nothing but, well, her.

‘Violet.’ Her name was little more than a groan on his lips. He reached for her, kissing her, gliding his hands over her naked body. ‘You’re even lovelier than I imagined.’

It was on the edge of her mind to question his compliments, but he stroked her with too much reverence, his ardour too convincing. And even when the last shreds of doubt clung to her mind, he gripped her to him and thrust against her with a soul-deep groan that bespoke of a desire that couldn’t be feigned.

He truly did find her beautiful, not only in her fine gowns, but out of them. It made her want to be closer to him, for all of him to touch all of her. She arched herself against him and pulled free his cravat, then tugged up the hem of his shirt.

The daylight coming in from the windows shone like gold on his powerful torso, highlighting the carved muscles over his chest, his shoulders and arms, and flat, banded stomach. A tantalising line of dark hair trailed from his navel into his breeches.

The pulse of desire between her legs thrummed and made her heady with the need to release as she had the night they were caught by her mother, when his caresses had played so expertly over her that she’d been swept somewhere she’d never been before. Somewhere she wanted to go again.

Her hands ran over the heat of his skin, soft despite the hard strength beneath. The dark hair sprinkling his chest rasped at her palms as she explored his nakedness. He kissed her hungrily and nudged her back towards the large bed.

The room was masculine with dark wood and luxurious deep red velvet coverlets on the thick mattress. She allowed him to lay her back, stretched out over the rich velvet. He crawled over the top of her while still wearing his breeches and continued kissing her while his fingertips worked a slow path down her body.

She parted her legs in anticipation and his caress swept at the source of her longing. She cried out as he stroked her the way he’d done that one blissful, fateful night.

‘I want to hear you climax for me again, my love,’ he whispered.

Except he withdrew his fingers from her and instead shifted down her body to the foot of the bed where her thighs were still parted. Quickly, she pulled her knees together, but he tutted and gently edged them open once more.

Her breath came quick with nervousness, embarrassment and...and anticipation for what he might do next. He leaned over her sex and slowly, carefully, drew his tongue over her.

She gripped the sheets, unable to think, to move, to even breathe. The swirling licks and sucks he’d once employed on her nipples, he now performed between her legs. Fire and wet heat combined into complete and total bliss.

Somehow she managed to draw enough breath to cry out again and again until her voice was hoarse. He inserted a finger carefully into her, working the digit within her body even as he continued to lick, to tease.

When her release did finally come, it was hard and fast and sent her spiralling over the edge of a control she had no intention of reining in. Even then, he continued to kiss her intimately until the sensitivity overwhelmed her and left her hips jerking with each pass of his tongue.

He straightened with a somewhat arrogant grin. Somehow in the time since their wedding ceremony and now, the smooth combing of his hair had given way to its natural proclivity and was attractively mussed. Just the way she’d always liked it.

Heavens, but he was handsome. And he was hers. Her husband, her lover.

‘I want you.’ Her voice had gone husky with desire. ‘Please.’

The grin slipped away, replaced with something far more serious that made her core clench. His hands went to his breeches and he began to unbutton his fall.

Lust hammered through Seth’s body. It pulsed in his manhood as it sprang free from his breeches and ran molten in his veins. The musky scent of Violet’s arousal nearly drove him mad with need.

The cries of her climax still hummed in his ears. He wanted to hear them again, to draw out more whimpers, more moans, more pleasure.

He pushed his breeches to the ground, along with his stockings and shoes. Her eyes swept down his body and lingered over his hardened shaft as her stocking-clad knees rubbed against one another, as if she could scarcely contain her own lust.

He braced himself over her with one arm while he guided the head of his arousal against the wet heat of her sex. The tip nudged against her, burying slightly within.

‘Yes.’ The word was sighed out on a long exhale and her legs spread wider as she pushed her hips towards him.

He flexed forward, edging deeper inside her. She sucked in a hard breath and moaned. Seth could only fist the coverlet in his free hand and clench his teeth to keep from spending inside her right then and there.

Her dark hair spilled over her creamy, smooth skin, her lips were red from his kisses, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with desire.

She was exquisite.

He withdrew gently and pushed into her until he was buried to the hilt. She gasped and he immediately paused, not wanting to cause her any discomfort. It had, after all, been six years since she’d been with a man.

‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered.

It was an order he could easily follow. He moved inside her, slow at first, then in steady strokes in and out of her body. The sheath of her sex around him was a tight grip that squeezed with each movement. Every lift of her hips, every wriggle of her bottom.