Page 16 of The Marquess Match (Love’s a Game #3)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
C lare barely had time to catch her breath before Ash surged forward, pressing her back against the wall again, his body caging hers in. His hands gripped her waist, firm and unyielding, holding her exactly where he wanted her. The wicked gleam in his storm-gray eyes sent a shiver through her—anticipation, thrill, and something far darker.
“You asked me what I was going to do about your little disobedience.” His voice was a low, deliberate rasp, sending heat curling through her belly. He reached up, sliding his fingers along her throat, his thumb resting against her pulse point. It thundered under his touch, betraying her excitement.
“I should leave you aching for it,” he mused, tilting his head as if considering. “Make you beg.”
Clare swallowed hard, but she refused to look away. “You could,” she admitted, lips lifting into a wicked smile. “But we both know you won’t.”
His eyes darkened, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “You’re right,” he murmured, brushing his mouth over her jaw, teasing her with the barest graze of his lips. “I want to hear you beg, but not because I make you. I want you to lose yourself so completely that you can’t help but fall apart for me.”
She exhaled sharply as he gripped the fabric of her gown, gathering the skirts in his hands before lifting her off the floor in one swift motion. She gasped, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. His strength, his sheer control, sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her.
“Ash—”
“Not a sound unless I tell you to make one,” he ordered, his voice deep and commanding.
She shuddered at the authority in it, her nails digging into his shoulders.
His mouth found hers then, searing, consuming, as he carried her to the bed. The kiss was a claiming, his tongue parting her lips, tasting, taking, his grip on her tightening as if he had no intention of letting go. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, he lowered her down, following her, never breaking contact.
He made quick work of her gown, dragging it over her head, baring her to him. He took a slow, appreciative breath, his eyes drinking her in. The reverence in his gaze made her skin flush, made her pulse skitter.
“You are exquisite,” he murmured, running his knuckles along the slope of her breast.
She arched into his touch, desperate for more, but he was in no rush. He trailed his fingers lower, tracing the curve of her hip, then lower still. When his hand finally pressed between her thighs, she moaned, unable to stop herself.
His fingers stroked her, teasing, testing, slipping through her slick heat. He let out a low, approving sound. “Already so wet for me again,” he mused. “Tell me, Clare, is this for me?”
“Yes,” she gasped, hips tilting toward his hand, desperate for more.
“Good,” he murmured, rewarding her with a deep stroke of his fingers, his touch firm, unrelenting. She clenched around him, the pressure coiling low, unbearable and perfect all at once. But just as the pleasure built to a peak, he withdrew, his hand leaving her aching and empty.
She let out a soft whimper, her body protesting the loss.
He caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up. “I told you, love,” he said, his voice rich with amusement and wicked promise. “You don’t get to come until I say so.”
She bit her lip, equal parts frustration and desperate need swirling inside her. “Then don’t make me wait too long.”
His eyes flashed with something primal. “You don’t get to make demands here,” he murmured, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the column of her throat. “But I’ll give you what you need. When I’m ready.”
Clare’s breath hitched as he moved lower, trailing kisses down her body, his lips and tongue branding her with every touch. When he settled between her thighs, she barely had a moment to brace herself before his mouth found her.
Her fingers fisted in the sheets, her body arching off the mattress as he licked into her with slow, devastating precision. He feasted on her, his tongue stroking, teasing, driving her to the very edge of madness. Every flick, every deliberate swirl sent fire rushing through her veins.
And then he stopped.
She nearly sobbed at the loss.
Ash lifted his head, his eyes burning into hers. “Not yet,” he murmured.
She whimpered, trembling beneath him. “Ash… Please.”
His smirk was pure sin. “That’s what I wanted,” he murmured. “You begging for it.”
He rose above her then, shifting her beneath him, his hands gripping her thighs, positioning her exactly how he wanted. He unfastened his breeches, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring her helpless anticipation. When he finally pressed against her, his thick length teasing at her entrance, she let out a ragged moan, her entire body strung tight with need.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough.
She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his.
Then, in one slow, unyielding thrust, he pushed inside her, seating himself to the hilt.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat. He was thick, filling her completely, stretching her in the most devastating way. She clenched around him, her nails biting into his back as she struggled to catch her breath.
Ash groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. “Bloody hell, Clare.”
She trembled beneath him, her entire body alight with sensation. “Move,” she breathed. “Please.”
He lifted his head, his gaze molten as he pulled back, then thrust into her again, harder this time.
And then there was nothing but pleasure.
He set a punishing rhythm, driving into her with deep, claiming strokes. Each thrust sent white-hot bliss spiraling through her, pulling her closer and closer to the edge. She could hear the ragged sound of their breathing, the way his name tore from her lips, the dark praise he whispered in her ear as he took her apart piece by piece.
“So tight for me,” he growled, his grip on her hips tightening. “You feel like heaven, love.”
She could only moan in response, her body tightening around him, chasing that peak, desperate to fall over the edge.
Ash felt it. He slowed, grinding into her, angling his hips until?—
“Oh— God,” she gasped, her vision going white.
“Now,” he ordered, his voice thick with command. “Come for me, Clare.”
And she shattered.
The pleasure crashed over her, hot and overwhelming, her body shaking beneath him as she convulsed around his length. Ash groaned, thrusting deep one last time, his own release following hers, his body rigid as he spilled inside her.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing, the pounding of their hearts against each other’s skin.
Then, slowly, Ash lifted himself just enough to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It was softer now, less urgent, but no less claiming.
Clare sighed, her fingers drifting lazily along his back. “I think I’ve been thoroughly punished.”
Ash chuckled, nipping at her lower lip. “Oh, darling,” he murmured. “That wasn’t your punishment.”
Her breath caught as he rolled her beneath him once more, a wicked grin curving his lips.
“That,” he said, voice husky with promise, “is just the beginning.”