Page 62 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“How does that feel?”

“So…so…” Humor lightened her amber eyes. “Wild.”

He grinned. Then he held her gaze as his fingers began to play. Strokes, pushes, swirls. He learned the curve and the wetness of her. The plump center and the welcoming depths. And when her eyes became dazed, he reminded himself that he could not take her. It was immoral. He would lose her forever.

Then those words fell away.

She held all his attention. Her moan as he pushed against her clit. Her gasp as he penetrated her with two fingers. Or her cry as he began to speed up his pace. Tighter. Harder. He pushed against her bud while her skin flushed. She thrust against him as he pushed a third finger inside her. And when he drew his thumb up, long and slow against her nub, she keened with hunger.

He knew when she was close. Her breath hitched, and she arched into his hand. Her legs spread wide for his plunder. Then her belly went rigid.

Abruptly, he straightened while still keeping her aroused. With his free hand he pulled her sideways then caught her, so she fell into the crook of his arm. His mouth slammed down on hers. Her arms had flown up in surprise, gripping his shoulders while he pushed hard against her nub. Quick circles, faster. Tighter. Harder.

Detonation.

Her body went wild, and he caught her scream in his mouth.

Amazing.

He kept her riding that excitement as long as he could. He held her while she bucked in his arms, and then waited until she eased before stroking her again. He let her feel the bliss forever while he kept her cries to himself. And he thanked God in Heaven that she had gifted him with her first experience. God, how beautiful she was. And how perfect he wanted this to be for her.

But it could not last forever.

In time, she jerked her hips away from him. Too much, he realized. And so he slowly took his hand from between her thighs. She released a tremulous laugh, and he knew it was safe to rise from her lips. He still lingered, nipping along the edges of her mouth, pressing tiny kisses along her cheek, and then simply holding her, his lips pressed to her temple.

He could spend an age like this and be content. She was languid in his arms. His body clamored to possess her, but he would not disturb her lingering pleasure.

With that thought in mind, he looked up at the mantel clock. Hell, Mari’s hour with Greenie was almost up. The butler would be returning soon. The man was honor bound to prevent her from staying beyond the allotted time.

Peter had to get her presentable soon. He looked at her face, seeing the light catch her amber eyes, making them warm with sun even as she blinked herself back to awareness.

“You should allow yourself to be wayward more often, Mari,” he said.

She smiled and spoke in teasing accents. “I have not given you leave to use my Christian name, Lord Whitly.”

“I am taking that leave.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “But only in private.”

“I suppose I am wayward enough to allow it.” Then she stirred.

Their embrace was done. He helped her to stand, though she still leaned heavily against the table. Her legs were weak, but she quickly strengthened. Too quickly, in his mind. He would rather carry her to bed.

Instead, he took a wicked pleasure in watching her fingers fumble as she re-tied her stocking. He couldn’t stop himself from stroking the length of her thigh, though she blushed furiously at his boldness. Much too soon her dress was back in order. He slipped half her pins into his pocket so she couldn’t return to her severe hairstyle. Then he looked at the mantel clock and knew he had to leave.

“I will slip out without the butler noticing. You remain with Greenie until the butler comes to retrieve you.”

“How can you go without someone seeing?”

“I can do it,” he said. There are several ways to slip through a household. “Pull at your hair while you are trying to train Greenie. That will explain your lack of pins.”

“I need those back, you know,” she said. “I’ll be a ragged mess in the first wind.”

“I would buy all the pins in England if I could keep your hair tumbling about your ears.”

“That would make for a very untidy England.”

He watched as she smoothed down her unruly curls. She had such fire inside her, if only she would let it out. The fantasy of her in full abandon hooked deep into his soul, and he knew he would seduce her soon.

With or without marriage, he would have her. It was a sobering thought for a man who thought himself moral. And that knowledge brought something deeper and darker to his mind.