Page 65 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

“You mean to deny me then? But how ungenerous of you!”

A muscle rippled along his jaw.

“Then why are we here?”

“You will be safe here till you are returned to normalcy.”

“Safe? From what?”

He made no answer.

“I refuse to be imprisoned here,” she stated and sat up.

“It would be more prudent to stay,” he said quickly.

“For what purpose? To stare at titillating Egyptians?”

“When you are not under the influence of the aphrodisiac—”

“I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

She stood up. He came to her.

“You might come across Nicholas.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “And what if I do?”

His jaw tightened and his cock tensed. “Given his treatment of you, you dare place yourself in danger of further mischief?”

“Take care, sir, your tone is in grave danger of condescension!”

She took a step forward but he grasped her by the arm. She looked down upon his hand.

“Lest you are disabled in some manner,” she began, and here her gaze dipped lower to where his hardened cock bulged against his pants, “I appeal to your consideration. A gentleman would not keep a lady in distress.”

The blood drained from his face and collected in his groin.

“Please.”

The small and breathy plea, passing between two supple and exquisite lips, was his undoing. With a devastated groan, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. Surprised by the force of his movement, she lost her footing and they toppled to the bed. He landed atop her, and the feel of her body beneath his ensured defeat of all forbearance.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lizzy had little time to revel in her triumph. When his lips seared her neck, all sentiment was lost in a sea of lust. She was not satisfied to have his body cover hers but twisted and pressed against him in an effort to join every inch of her to him. His kisses felt more urgent, more passionate than ever before, but did not match her ardor. She threaded her fingers through his hair and gripped his head in place lest he should disengage for a breath. His kisses would be her air. She assaulted his lips and tongue as if emerging from famine. He matched her aggression and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, mining the hot, wet orifice for desire’s relief.

The hardness at his crotch had grown. She rubbed herself against it. He moaned low in his throat and turned his attention next to her breasts. He pulled down the décolletage and freed her nipples, which he fondled by hand and mouth. When he suckled a teat, the ache between her legs swelled. She was past needing efforts to arouse. Her body, already aflame, craved release. She pushed her hips at him. He took the hint and put a hand to her crotch, but the kalasiris clung tightly to her body, allowing limited penetration. She grunted in frustration. He took the hem of the dress and managed to pull it up past her knees. He reached beneath the dress and—glory!—his magnificent fingers were at her womanhood. His manipulation of her there was less gentle and precise than her prior experiences, but she welcomed the rougher touch. She wanted to spend, and spend fast.

Though he had found a way to caress her, the dress hampered the range of his access. She pulled at the confounding material, wishing to hoist it past her thighs. Sensing her vexation, he grasped the dress and tore it between his hands. It ripped all the way to her hip. His hand was instantly at the nub of flesh nestled between her folds. He stroked her with his thumb, dipping at times to her perineum. The wetness between her legs grew.

“Faster, harder,” she moaned, pushing herself into his hand.

He obliged and intensified his fondling. Lowering his head to her neck, he took whole mouthfuls of her. She threw back her head and arched her back, wanting him to address as much of her body as possible. His caresses fed her desire, but she wanted more. She wanted more of him. Gripping his banyan, she pulled it down past his shoulders. He shrugged out of the garment and barely missed a beat as he resumed his kisses and ministrations. She had an ache deep within her that only he could satiate.

Wrapping her hands around his neck, she returned his kisses with a vigor that seemed to surprise him, but he did not resist and met every thrust of her tongue, every bite and suck of the lips. She reached for his crotch and rubbed the swell there. This was what she needed, what she desired. If all that she had read held true, this hardness between his legs could produce the most wondrous effects. But he pushed her hand away. She looked at him with brows raised. To appease her, he slid a finger into the tight, hot, wet crevice below her clitoris. She gasped at the intrusion. She thought she heard him moan. Slowly, gently, he pulled his finger from her, then gradually reinserted it. She shivered. The pressure felt a little strange at first, but as he grazed the swollen bud with his motions, the sensations became delightful, a perfect pairing. The muscles within her pulsed about his finger.

Studying her reaction, he asked, “Do you require the safety word?”

She was adamant. “No!”