The Rake's Wicked Proposal

‘I should take you home.’ His voice was huskily soft.

‘Yes…’

‘Now.’

‘Yes.’

‘Right now.’

‘Yes.’

But neither of them moved. Grace couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. Unless it was into Lucian’s arms!

Lucian was the one to take the single step that brought Grace into his arms, before his head lowered and his lips captured hers. Not gently, but forcefully. Not asking, but demanding. A demand Grace met as her lips parted beneath the onslaught of his, her pulse racing as Lucian’s tongue gently probed the moist heat of her mouth.

She felt warm and softly yielding as he moulded her body against the length of his, his arousal pressing against her softness.

Lucian continued to plunder the moist cavern of her mouth for long delicious minutes, his arousal leaping in response as her tongue moved shyly to duel with his and her hands moved between them, so that she might fully unbutton his shirt to touch his heated flesh. But even that wasn’t enough, it seemed; Grace pushed the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms, to leave the whole of his torso bared to her touch.

Her fingers were initially like butterfly wings against his flesh, and then her caresses grew bolder, kneading him, nails scraping erotically against his nipples, creating a pleasure Lucian had never known before. His neck arched as she broke their kiss to trail a path of fire down his throat. Tasting him. Biting him. Her tongue flicking at his nipples in the same way his had once sucked hers.

Dear God…!

Lucian wanted to touch and taste her in the same way. Needed to touch and taste her in the same way! All of her!

He moved a hand beneath her chin so that he might look into her face, his gaze searching, asking the question and seeing the answer in eyes that were dark, with only a rim of silver. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips full and swollen from the demand of his kisses and her own arousal.

Grace found the tense silence between them unbearable. Unacceptable.

‘Do not stop, Lucian…!’ She moved close enough to rub herself sensually against the hardness of his arousal. ‘Show me what to do next,’ she encouraged throatily. ‘I know there is more. There has to be more! Show me how to please you…’

Lucian gave a choked groan. ‘Grace, I am not sure I will be able to maintain control if you please me any more than you have already done!’

‘Perhaps I do not want you to maintain control?’ Her gaze continued to hold his even as her hands moved caressingly across his shoulders and down the hard length of his chest, those hands appearing pale and delicate against his much darker skin.

He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Grace—’

‘Please, Lucian!’ She moistened swollen lips. ‘I want—I ache…!’ Grace could not bear even the thought of a repeat of the dissatisfied ache Lucian had left her with yesterday evening. An ache she had no experience, no idea, how to assuage.

Continuing to hold Lucian’s dark gaze with hers, Grace slowly unfastened the buttons at the front of her gown, before slipping it from her shoulders and letting it fall to her slippered feet. That dark gaze slowly shifted down to her breasts, now concealed only by a cream silk camisole that reached to mid-thigh, the thin material a sensuous caress across her roused and thrusting nipples, the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs was also tantalisingly visible…

‘Grace—’ Lucian’s groan of protest was strangled in his throat as Grace lifted delicate white arms and removed the pins from her hair, to allow it to fall free and curling down the slenderness of her back, her breasts rising temptingly with the movement.

Lucian found it impossible to resist that temptation and his hands lifted to cup beneath those delicious orbs, before his head lowered and his lips claimed one turgid nipple through the delicate material of her camisole, drawing it fully into the heat of his mouth. Any idea of gentleness evaporated as Grace arched into him, and he felt her fingers become entangled in his hair as she held him to her.

Lucian suckled greedily, laving the roused nipple with the rough rasp of his tongue while his hand kneaded and caressed its twin, hard beneath the soft pad of his thumb. Grace mewled softly in her throat at this dual assault upon her senses.