Oh! He was staring at her, and in the depth of his gaze, she spied surprise and desire so powerful her entire body quaked.
His lips moved, the stroke of his tongue against the closed seam of her lips tender, persuasive, arousing. Somewhere in the hazy back recesses of her mind, she hated her weakness for his touch. He coaxed her lips apart, and with a muffled gasp she submitted, her eyes fluttering closed. Sylvester grew more demanding, and she parted her lips farther, allowing him greater exploration. She made another incoherent sound. His tongue stroked against hers, and she jolted at the shocking and delightful intimacy. Daphne had not known a kiss could be like this, as if they were consuming the essence of each other.
Her husband was unyielding in his advances, and he kissed her over and over with devastating expertise. Something unknown was happening, and she felt panicked. An unbearable heat was twisting through her, and the sensations were too wonderful. She attempted gathering her senses, but his sensual assault did not abate, drowning away the protest before it fully formed.
He framed her face with both hands and deepened their kiss, moving their embrace from sweet and hesitant to a blatant brand of raw, domineering ownership. He consumed her, and Daphne was lost entirely in the taste, the scent, and the feel of him. Between her thighs ached for his touch. And as if he knew, he lowered one of his hands to grip her gown and slowly, painstakingly drag it up. Her husband’s fingers caressed along the sensitive softness of her inner thigh until he was just there, right where she throbbed. Daphne sobbed into his kiss, wanting to get closer. Everything about him felt as if it were trapped beneath her skin. She pulled her lips from his and thrust her fingers into his hair.
“More,” she beseeched, a wanton instinct urging her to nip his lower lip. So she did, and he groaned, his hands tightening about her body. Then the hand that had been lingering near her wet heat moved, and two wicked, sinful fingers stroked deep inside at the same time his lips recaptured hers. She flinched at the tight, almost painful stretch, a soft scream exploding from her mouth into his. There was the slightest hesitation before he withdrew, lifted her into his arms, and strode to the sofa by the window, tumbling her into the soft depths. Daphne stared up at him in dazed arousal, quite aware of how wantonly she was splayed, her ballgown pushed to her mid thighs, her stockings and garters on display.
Why is he kissing me now, and why am I allowing this?
A hot lump formed in her throat. Only for a moment…and then I’ll stop… She couldn’t resist him. Not when she trembled like this. Not when the loneliness had fled.
Her earl knelt, cupped the back of her knees, and pushed up and out, baring her to his heated gaze. She made to sit up, but a firm hand pressed against her stomach, and she stilled. Disconcerted and uncertain what to expect, Daphne struggled to understand the needs throbbing through her body for his touch. He lifted her legs, spreading them wide, pulling her buttocks to the edge of the sofa and staring between her thighs with hungry intent.
His eyes collided with hers, and he held her gaze for a long, timeless moment. Then he dipped, and her earl wedged his shoulders between her splayed thighs to press his lips to the curls at the top of her mound. Her entire body blushed. Daphne was scandalized. She trembled violently as she realized his intention. “My lord?” Surely, he wouldn’t.
The touch of his tongue as it glided over her nub was a caress of pure pleasure. Daphne slapped a palm over her mouth, desperate to contain the scream rushing through her. Her husband was the devil, and his tongue his instrument of temptation and torture. He licked and sucked, gentle, then with too much passion. She was helpless against the sobs of need that escaped her throat.
She hadn’t known…dear God, she hadn’t known a pleasure like this existed. His teeth settled over her aching nub and nipped, then a heated lick down to her slick entrance.
“Sylvester!”
An intolerable ache was building up, making her sob out his name over and over again. He gripped her buttocks and kept her pinned to the wicked lash of his tongue. Frantic to ground herself, she thrust her fingers through his hair, and something sinful and wanton and desperate in her urged her to ride his tongue, and she did. Dear God, she did. A wild cry tore from her throat as the piercing ache that had been building finally broke and the sweetest sensation tore through her, leaving her wrecked.
It was the most incredible pleasure she had ever known. And it had been with her husband. Not allowing herself to collapse and burrow into his chest, she scrambled away, frantically pushing her gown down to cover her exposed thighs. His lips glistened with her release, and his sensual smirk hinted at his arrogance.
Before she could recover her devastated senses, he leaned over and brushed his mouth lightly across hers.
“I see Redgrave has taught you well,” he murmured against her lips.
Redgrave.
Daphne’s eyes flew open, horror stealing her breath. Her earl’s eyes were piercing and watchful as a hawk. In the dark depths, there was a fury and pain she hardly understood. The man shunned her bed and any hint of intimacy between them. What right did he have to be angry if she took a lover? He is your husband…the weak, traitorous part of her aching heart whispered.
“Get off me,” she snapped, not caring to hide her anger.
Dear God, what had she been thinking? Allowing him to touch her with such burning passion. The man felt nothing for her, and she had responded shamelessly to his touch and kisses. His seduction just now had nothing to do with passion or his wanting her. It had all been a test, and her foolish desires had rebelled against the logic of her heart and mind. She pulled her knees up and pressed the flat of her feet against his muscled chest, then pushed with all the strength the restriction of her gown allowed. She wanted him away from her, immediately.
He moved from between her thighs, and heat flushed along her body at the prominent hardness at the front of his trousers. His hair was in frightful disarray, and his eyes…good heavens, they glowed with something wild and predatory. She had never seen her husband look so mussed. In fact, he had never stared at her with such carnal promise.
With a fierce tug, she readjusted her clothing into some semblance of decency and sat up. “What do you know of Redgrave?” she asked, hating the guilt worming through her.
“No denial, I see. Curious, my wife, sitting so calmly confirming her infidelity. Do you by chance, Countess, believe there are no consequences to this betrayal?”
She shot to her feet and rounded on him. “And what does it matter to you? You haven’t been to my bed in all the years we have been married.”
“If you had a need to feel a cock in you, Countess, you only had to say so.”
She blushed at his crudity. “Do you believe after the farce of our wedding night I would ever approach an unfeeling lout like you even if I had wanted a cock? A stone has more emotional depth than you, my lord.”
“Ah, so Redgrave is warm and tender, is he? I never knew the viscount had it in him.”
There was a throb of something dark and dangerous in Sylvester’s tone. Daphne did not appreciate the apprehension it stirred inside her. “I said nothing of the sort,” she retorted, clutching her hands to her middle to prevent their trembling. “You’ve ignored me for six years. The state of the marriage I wanted to discuss with you is a separation. For a moment, I thought you wanted the same thing, not an heir, which I am most certainly not prepared to accommodate.”
Her husband was as still as a statue. Another fraught silence blanketed the room, thick and impenetrable. “A separation?”
Her chest heaved with the depth of her emotions. “Yes. But not one where we remain married and you and I live apart blithely ignoring the fact that the law and my stupidity have bound us together.”
“You want a divorce.” Her husband was staring at her as if he had never seen her before.
Keep steady. “If you will but petition for it, my lord, or an annulment.”
“No.”
She physically hurt
with the control it took to hold in a scream. “You will grant my request, my lord, or I promise you will regret it.”
“Will I?” Amusement shaded his voice.
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“And the scandal?”
“I—”
“Do you believe, countess, that I would act with such wanton disregard of my family’s position within society? My sister, my mother, aunts, and cousins would most certainly be caught in the backlash.”
She fisted her hands at her side. “Do you expect me to think of others who have only know contentment with their lives? I will no longer be trapped in this cold marriage,” she said. “I am lonely, so empty there are days I feel as if I will shatter. I do not care about scandals. I want to be held…kissed, loved. I am neither free, nor married in truth, and I want to be unburdened from the shackles you have placed on me.” She felt distantly appalled she was sharing so much of her feelings with him, but he had to be convinced, otherwise she would shatter.
He jerked as if she had slapped him, then he stilled. Silence enveloped the library and tension rode the air.
“I presume you want this love with Redgrave.”
I wanted it with you for years… Daphne’s heart was a trembling mess. She badly wanted to escape the confines of the library, hurl herself up the stairs as fast as she could, and burrow herself underneath her warm covers and hide from everything. She lifted her chin, quite aware of how defiant she must seem. “Yes,” she lied.