Page 63 of The Lady is Trouble
The man captivated versus the artist. Her hair a dream-filled cloud about her face and shoulders; her breasts high, plump but not too, perfectly balanced to her slight frame; her nipples the wondrous pink of the delphinium that littered the banks of Harbingdon’s lake during summer. Her hips were gently rounded, her legs lithe. And the curls nestled at the delta of her thighs brought new meaning toexquisite. So petite, facing him calmly, arms by her side, not reaching to cover any part of her body from his interpretation.
He marveled at her composure when he was shaken to his core. But she allowed his study, so he took his time, his gaze drinking her in as if the view presented water to a man done crossing a barren wasteland.
Her frank review in return sent a bolt of awareness pinging right through him. “Piper, love,” he said, his voice gone thick, “you are stunning.”
But when he moved to guide her to the bed, make her his in every way he’d dreamed, she raised her hand, staying his approach. Stepping in with a knowing smile, she trailed her finger over the notched lapel of his half-buttoned waistcoat, across his belly, following a direct path to his erection. She covered his length with her palm while he struggled to maintain control and keep his gaze trained on her. Her touch was tentative and untried—devastating.
“My,” she whispered with a playful glance shot through incredibly long lashes, “thatisimpressive. I always”—her cheeks flushed a becoming pink—“imagined.”
A spurt of laughter left his lips, joy he had never,not once in his life,experienced at such a moment. The way she looked at him then was a more exhaustive study than standing nude before her would be. He knew not how to reply, discomfited to feel his cheeks go hot. “I’m happy you think so,” he finally came up with while his brain was trying to communicate the fact that her hand caressed, none too gently, his throbbing cock.
He allowed her exploration as she undressed him. Cravat, waistcoat, and shirt fluttered to the floor before she shifted her attention lower. He dropped his head back, his forearms going to the wall to hold him up. Another minute, maybe two, was the most he could take of this. Seconds if she caressed certain areas again, which with a hesitant move, she did. Already he couldn’t catch a sure breath, and he was certain,dead-certain, he’d never wanted another woman this much.
And he never would.
Humming beneath her breath, Piper enchanted, ostensibly delighted by the entire deed, even the awkward parts he usually tried to move quickly past. Like the trouser button that wouldn’t come loose, one she sent bouncing to the floor. “Help me,” she finally whispered, her mouth going to his chest and nipping a patch of skin beneath his collarbone. She went up on her toes to further encourage his assistance, her nipple scraping his, and he thought:enough.
His hands covered hers, making quick work of his trousers and drawers. Then he walked her back, back, until the high mattress met her thighs and gravity took her down. He scooted her across the counterpane, resolving for their difference in height before gently flowing over her, their hips brushing, shifting, melding in an absolute, hot, slick seal.
Her hushed groan echoed as he rocked against her, once, then again, her body readying, moisture coating his cock. So wet so quickly, he marveled as a surge of animalistic lust tightened his scrotum to an almost painful degree. Desiring everything, he captured her lips, his hands on a quest for hidden treasure.
He wanted to know what she liked, what made her cry out and arch beneath him.
His aim: memorize how to drive Piper Scott mad.
Circling her nipple between finger and thumb, he twisted gently. Then he followed with his breath, lips, tongue, teeth. Sucking one pebbled nub, then the other, as she moaned. A band of creamy-silver moonlight poured in the open window and across her body. One hand fisted in the counterpane, the other trapped in his hair, she curved into him, seemingly lost to sensation.
Lost to him.
No artist had fashioned any woman more remarkable. There could be no more magnificent splendor.
“Here,” she demanded on a whimper, her hand falling from his hair to slide between her legs. Trapping it beneath his, he raised her arm above her head and pinned it to the mattress.
“Oh, no,” he said and blew air across the damp nipple he’d just released, “that is all mine.”
He followed moonlight down her body, over every sleek rise and dip as she murmured nonsensical bits of encouragement. His gaze skated up as his teeth nipped her hip, lips gliding over smooth skin and bone. Piper’s head was back, her hair a dark twist beneath her. Her hands were again caught in the counterpane, so forcefully, he questioned it surviving the night.
Spreading her legs, she sought relief in the most basic of appeals. Wanting to giveeverything, wanting to drive her wild before he let himself be driven, he delved through her silken folds, gently working a finger inside until the heel of his hand lay against her.
She came partially undone in a primitive and precise transfer that drove his finger deeper. “Julian,” she gasped on a hitched breath, “please.”
“This?” he whispered, his thumb settling on her peaked clit, circling, pressing, gauging her response as he stroked. He pressed his lips to her thigh, nibbled softly, then soothed with his tongue, offering a steady river of contact. In this, he had extreme patience, even as his cock felt near to cracking open.
He planned to make her come in as many ways as he could devise.
“Kiss me,” she urged, her hand going to his wrist and working to pull him atop her.
“Ah,” he agreed, “a perfect plan.” So, he set his lips where his thumb had been, and he nearly came himself as her moist passage contracted around the finger he stroked deep as her taste flowed into his mouth. A pulse, then another, a clench he questioned lasting ten seconds through once he made it inside her. “Tight, dear God,” he mouthed against her, sucking her clit between his lips.
She gripped his hair, guiding him as he toyed with her.
He varied the caresses, circling, delving, working in rhythm until heat, sweat, desire entangled them.
Gratification he’d never experienced.
He gazed over damp skin covered in the lightest dusting of hair to find her helpless, caught in a storm. She looked as unhinged as he felt, completely unraveled. “Look at me,” he whispered, his breathing ragged. He wanted,needed, to know the color of her eyes when she went over the edge.
Covetous, he wanted this for his memories; he wanted itall.