To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

Arabella felt the insistent swell of her own desire and arched against his magical hand, yet she didn’t want the pleasure to be hers alone. “Marcus…you needn’t wait. I am more than ready for you.”

“So you are.” He lifted his head, a lazy heated smile curving his mouth. “But I mean to torment you a little as punishment for driving me to distraction this past week.”

“I should have known.”

His fingers stroked the sleek flesh between her parted thighs, fondling her sex in a lush assault on her senses. When he slid one finger deep inside her, finding her wet with wanting, her inner muscles shuddered around him.

Gasping with pleasure, Arabella clutched at his arm. “That is quite enough torment.”

“I disagree. If it were enough, you would be begging me to stop.”

“I won’t beg…”

“We shall see, love.”

He bent his head, muffling the rest of her words with searing kisses, while his hand, seductive as his voice, continued playing maddening games with her ready flesh.

He caressed her until she was aching with need, until she was light-headed and liquid with arousal, plying her with deft, skillful touches, punctuating his kisses with heated pulses of his tongue. When she felt his probing fingers slowly thrust inside her again, it kindled a soft cry from her throat.

“Hush, no screaming,” Marcus admonished. “You don’t want to scandalize Hobbs, remember?”

“I don’t know if I can manage.”

Almost whimpering, she buried her face in his throat as he went on working his tormenting magic. Soon she was shivering and trembling, yet though it was blissful, it wasn’t entirely satisfying. Arabella wanted Marcus filling her, wanted him joined to her intimately, wanted him soothing the empty ache his absence had created. Even more, she wanted him feeling the love that shimmered inside her so deeply she thought she might burst with it.

“Marcus, please…take me,” she pleaded finally.

“Are you begging me yet?”

“Yes…whatever you want.”

His husky chuckle rasped in her ear, yet he evidently had had enough torment also, for he gathered Arabella in his arms and slid off the sofa with her. Lowering her to the Aubusson carpet, he laid her back, watching her with hot-bright eyes as he made short work of the front placket of his breeches. Easing over her then, he fitted his body to hers and sank his weight into the cradle of her thighs.

He cherished her mouth with kisses as his hard length slowly filled her. With a sob of pure pleasure, Arabella wrapped her arms tightly around him and drew Marcus close, welcoming his possession. Her chest ached with love for him; all of her senses were heightened by love. When he sank in all the way, the rapture was almost too much to bear. She let her head fall back and her eyelids fall shut.

“No, open your beautiful eyes, angel. I want to watch the expression on your face when you come for me.”

Arabella obeyed, gazing up at Marcus dazedly. She knew he was seeing love and passion in her eyes, for she recognized the same emotions in his. Joy and triumph and sheer sensuality blazed in his face as he surged into her, his movements slow and passionate as he began a rhythm as timeless as man and woman, the rhythm of love.

Arabella responded with all her heart, and it wasn’t long before their pleasure built into a firestorm, then exploded in a fiery blaze of lightning bolts. Marcus drank in her sobs of ecstasy as he joined her in the stunning tempest.

Afterward, she lay cupped into his body, breathless, sated, joy whispering through her. When at last he eased away to lie beside her, she opened her eyes to find Marcus still watching her tenderly. She sighed with perfect contentment and offered him a drowsy, teasing smile. “I’ve known for some time that you were a marvelous lover, but I think you will make a marvelous husband also.”

His own smile was devastatingly irresistible. “I’ve been trying to convince you of that for weeks now. How gratifying to know I finally succeeded.”

She reached up to trace his sensual mouth with her fingertip. “I am very glad you won our wager, but you will not always win, you know,” Arabella murmured.

“I wouldn’t want to always win. It’s doing battle with you that adds a delectable spice to life. As long as you love me, I can deal with losing to you every now and then.”

“I do love you, Marcus, more than I can say, but since we are negotiating terms of our marriage…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are we still negotiating?”

“Yes, on one issue, I think we must.”

“I would rather make love to you again.”

When he leaned forward to take her mouth, Arabella pressed her fingers to his lips. “This is serious, Marcus.”