Marquess of Malice (Lords of Scandal 2)

He tweaked her nipple and she cried out, her legs wrapping about his. “Yes,” she murmured. Then repeated louder. “Oh yes.”

He started kissing a trail down her neck as his other hand reached for the hem of her shift. It had already ridden up her legs and he ran his hand along her outer thigh, pushing the fabric higher. “How did I ever think I could remain detached from you?”

She couldn’t answer as he skimmed his hand along her hip and then slid across her stomach, dipping lower until his fingertips brushed the curls at her apex. She could feel heat, warmth, and wet coming from her core and as he traced the outline of her sex and then dipped his fingers into her womanly flesh.

Her insides spasmed and she gasped, her eyes losing focus. “Chad,” she begged not sure what she was asking for. He responded by leaning down and taking her taut nipple into his mouth. The cloth still separated his lips from her flesh but all the same, the peak tightened and puckered until she was writhing in pleasure under him.

He stopped, rising above her and she gave a little whimper of protest. She didn’t want to stop. But he only took the hem of her shift and slid it up her chest and then over her head. When his chest came down on top of hers, she wanted to sigh in pleasure at the feel of his skin. “I love the way your hair f

eels,” she whispered close to his ear. “Your fingers, your mouth. I didn’t know it would all be so wonderful.”

He kissed her lips again, his fingers gently stroking her sex once again. “It only gets better, love. I promise.”

How could that be true?

Chapter Eighteen

Malice looked down at the beautiful little pixie currently begging for his touch and tried not to roar with satisfaction. The noise he made was more like a guttural growl. This beautiful, magical woman was all his.

And she loved him too. That part still stunned him. He wasn’t certain he deserved it, but he was done questioning his worth. Instead, he intended to spend his life attempting to be the man she needed him to be.

That was the only way. He understood that now.

He thought back to the night that she’d promised to heal the wounds buried deep inside him. She already had. Here he was, filled with love, his heart open, not only to her but to the boy who reminded him so much of himself.

Why hadn’t he done this sooner?

“Cordelia,” he said as he kissed her again. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

She wrapped her arm about this neck. “Me either. You’re certain you love me?”

He groaned as reached for the stays of his breeches. “Very,” he answered. He pulled down his breeches, freeing his manhood.

She slid a hand down his body and reached between his legs, her light touch exploring his flesh and causing his teeth to clench. Her hand felt bloody amazing. “And we’re going to marry?” she asked again. “You don’t mind I’m a writer?”

Her hand dipped lower, cupping his sack and his eyes rolled back in his head. “I love it.”

“I’m quiet. And people don’t notice me at balls or—”

“Cordelia.” His teeth clenched. “You’re holding my balls in your hand.”

She let out a tiny gasp and then a giggle. “I am.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “Never has a woman been this deep inside me before. You might be quiet and shy, but you have managed to touch me in places I thought long dead.”

“Oh,” she said, her sweet breath blowing across his face. “That is beautiful.” Then she arched to kiss him and the head of his manhood slid against her soft wet sex.

He throbbed with need. “You are beautiful. Never let anyone take that away from you again.” The tip slid inside her folds, wrapping a tight wet heat about his cock. He began to shake, the effort of going slow becoming increasingly difficult.

“You’re beautiful too,” she whispered against his lips. “I meant what I said a few days ago. I’ll spend my life showing you what it means to be loved if you let me.”

He couldn’t hold back. Those words opening him wide. He slid inside her, feeling her maidenhead tear under the pressure. She gave a cry of pain, her body stiffening. “I’m sorry love.”

“Don’t be,” she said. “We’re one now.”

They were. And they would be forever. He began to move inside her, slowly, allowing her body to adjust. When she relaxed in his arms, he began to move more quickly. If she’d been hesitant at first, with each stroke, she grew bolder and more confident, her rhythm building faster and tighter.

How could lovemaking be this good? But he couldn’t say the words out loud. He could only hold her close as they climbed higher, their bodies truly becoming one.