Page 12 of A Whisper Of Desire (The Disgraced Lords #4)

He settled in to watch as she unthinkingly obeyed him.

She explored as he directed with the odd comment all the while never taking her eyes from his face.

She watched him watching her, and she could see his desire for her build.

At one point Marisa briefly closed her eyes on a sweet moan, but when she felt his member stir against her thigh, they flashed open.

Only then did she raise her finger to her lips and taste herself.

Before she could remove the finger from her mouth, his lips sought hers and they tasted her together.

“I need more; you taste delicious,” he said, then let out a gravelly command: “Move further up the bed.”

Once she had done as he’d directed, he lay in the V of her thighs, spreading them wide with his shoulders. He drank in the sight and smell of her.

“When do I get to taste you? It’s amazing what a young lady can learn when her brother is easily distracted and has not-very-discreet friends.”

“Whom did you spy on? Was it me?” The thought of her secretly watching him at love sport made his cock throb.

“No. It wasn’t you.”

“Then I don’t want to know.” The idea that she’d seen another man being pleasured and got aroused by it saw a possessive haze blur his vision.

“Soon you’ll taste me, and only me. Just as this feast before my eyes is for me alone.” He ran his tongue up the inside of her trembling thigh. “Now is about your pleasure. You have some catching up to do.”

She’d registered the angry scowl that had crossed Maitland’s handsome features when she’d mentioned seeing another man being serviced.

Only a few weeks ago, at Lord Donnel’s ball, she’d sought the quiet of the gardens when Rutherford had once again failed to propose to her.

She was sitting quietly by a small fountain when on the other side of the roses a couple appeared.

She recognized Arend’s voice. She hadn’t meant to watch, but the look upon Arend’s face as a woman on her knees serviced him, taking his member into her mouth with her hand stroking him, had kept her frozen to the spot.

She’d come over all hot and flushed, her body reacting to the sight of his obvious pleasure.

She’d watched a man she’d thought dark and dangerous come apart, his hands wrapped tightly in the woman’s hair, his hips thrusting his erection deep into her mouth, his growls animalistic, and yet the vulnerability in his face as he came almost made her weep.

The woman may have simply been one of Arend’s many lovers, but he gave all of himself to the act.

For a brief moment you could see into his soul, pure and good.

The woman also seemed to enjoy it immensely, because as soon as he slipped free of her mouth, Arend pulled her into his arms, his hand fumbling under her skirts, and it took no more than a few strokes before she was quivering in his arms and calling out Arend’s name.

They simply held each other, breathing deeply.

That’s when he’d looked over to where she stood on the other side of the arbor and smiled.

She’d turned tail and run. He’d never once mentioned the moment to her.

Since that night, she’d always dreamed of being able to make her lover lose control like that. To be so caught up in passion that they dispensed with their outer armor and showed their inner selves, their vulnerability.

Maitland’s previous release seemed so controlled, as if he was scared to expose his inner self. Perhaps it was because they were still strangers?

A nip on the soft skin of her inner thigh refocused her.

She looked at Maitland’s head as it lay between her thighs and wondered if he ever completely lost himself in passion, or would he stay controlled, as he had when he pleasured himself.

He stroked himself as if to order. He’d obviously found release in the actions, but to her it was as if it could have been any woman lying open and naked before him.

There was nothing special about the woman in his bed being his newly married wife.

It was as if there was a routine or pattern to his lovemaking. Perhaps he started all his amorous pursuits this way.

The notion disturbed her. She’d known he rarely showed emotion, but in the bedroom? Surely he felt secure enough to let go? She didn’t like to think Maitland hid himself from her. They could hardly build a life together if she never got to know or understand him.

Soon any thought of understanding anything was driven out by the shock of Maitland’s tongue sweeping through her folds. Her legs instantly tried to close, but his massive shoulders held her open to him.

His tongue was gentle one minute and then ruthless the next.

She was kept on edge, never knowing what to expect.

A soft cry fell from her lips when he touched a certain spot.

Another stroke. He paused and her whole body tensed in anticipation.

This time he gently sucked that special spot and her eyes rolled into her head under her closed lids.

Sensations so exquisite bombarded her to the point she almost forgot to breathe.

Just when she thought nothing could be better, she felt a finger enter her and it was too much. She moaned into the room. Heat grew with each touch from his magic tongue and fingers!

To her embarrassment, her hips moved, trying to press closer, trying to ease the ache inside. His clever tongue hit the spot again and her whole body lifted off the bed.

“Mait . . . land . . .” she cried.

His chuckle sent more waves of pleasure washing over her, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming, so she almost wanted him to stop.

“Stop thinking and just enjoy,” he commanded, and then he nibbled on that magic spot.

He gave a painful little bite that saw her straining once again.

As her back arched he soothed her with his lapping tongue while a second finger joined the first, stretching her, readying her.

She remembered how big Maitland had looked as he stroked himself and she wondered how he would ever fit.

His thumb found her hardened nub and pressed. Soon she was panting, her whole being focused on what he was doing to her. The combination of lapping tongue and his fingers deep inside her made stars appear under her tightly closed eyelids.

Now she understood how hard it was to lose control in front of another. You had to give up a part of yourself.

She knew the pleasure she’d receive would be worth it when Maitland allowed her to reach the pinnacle.

He held her on the edge of the chasm. One more lick or suck in the right place, and she’d fly.

After watching Arend, she’d pleasured herself in her room, alone, with not a soul around to watch her.

But this time she had an audience, a man who liked to control everything, and suddenly the idea of letting him control her secret moments scared her.

“Let go, Marisa,” he urged. “I want to see you overcome with pleasure.”

His whole mouth suckling her, devouring her, followed his words. She felt shudders go through him where his hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, his fingers left her, only to be replaced by his tongue. He used his fingers on her hard little nub, catching it between his fingers and pinching while his tongue entered her over and over again.

She wanted the sweet release and she could feel it building. Her body shook with each thrust of his tongue and soon she’d bare her soul to this man, and she was glad to. He was her husband, her life partner. He’d be the father of her children.

Her body grew tight, her hands gripped the sheets, and her mind closed to everything but what his mouth and hands were doing to her.

The climax hit with such force it knocked the breath out of her. She flew up into the clouds and her world came apart in an explosion of color and stars.

Her body convulsed out of control and her eyes flew open to see Maitland watching her come undone with possessive pride in his eyes.

For a brief second she wondered what he saw.

Fate had selected his wife well. Pride invaded his chest and he felt his heart swell. She gave of herself unabashed, relishing in her passion, not embarrassed to show him her desires.

He was hard and aching all over again; her climax, hearing her climax, knowing he brought her to earth-shattering release, aroused him beyond measure.

He lifted himself on his elbows and admired his work. He loved how wet and glistening, swollen from his mouth, she was, so ready for him to make her his wife.

He rose above her on all fours. Her legs stayed spread, her limbs boneless, but a smile as saucy as any courtesan’s settled upon her lips. She looked utterly satisfied and so beautiful in the dim lighting of the room.

“Let’s do that again,” she whispered.