To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

A soft laugh tumbled from her throat as he pressed his warm lips there. When she would have replied, he found her mouth and gave it the same erotic attention, wooing her with laughter and tenderness and incredible sensuality.

It was quite some time before he finally drew back to survey her. “Luscious,” he repeated, his appraising scrutiny flickering over her nakedness.

Holding her gaze, he scooped up a handful of rose petals and sprinkled them over Arabella. Then gathering a few more in his fingers, he ran them slowly over her body…the swells of her breasts, the curve of her hip, her belly, and lower…stroking her woman’s mound, the sensitive folds below. Exhaling in a whimper, Arabella arched hungrily against him.

“You’re very responsive to my touch,” Marcus observed.

“You make me that way.”

The rose petals on her skin felt incredibly sensual. The velvet softness caressed her flesh as his hot gaze was doing, making her tremble.

“Marcus, you cannot torment me this way…”

“Yes, I can, angel. I want you senseless from wanting me.”

She was already senseless with desire for him, and she wanted him the same way. She wanted to torment Marcus and make him ache with the feverish hunger he had kindled in her.

Struggling for a semblance of control, Arabella raised her hands and pushed at his shoulders, compelling him to roll over onto his back amid the rose petals. She could tell by his look that her unexpected action had surprised him.

“Turnabout is fair play,” she said with a faint smile.

“So it is.” Marcus lay there, compliant, but his eyes held a bold challenge. “Do you intend to have your wicked way with me?”

“Precisely.” She had never felt the least urge to be wicked and wanton with anyone else. With Marcus she felt that way every moment he was near, and often when he was not.

She felt supremely wicked now as the soft candlelight gleamed tantalizingly over his body. He was beautiful, lithe and strong and totally irresistible.

Suspecting he could see the yearning in her eyes, she gathered some rose petals of her own and dragged them slowly downward over his chest, smiling when he inhaled sharply. Rather than continue caressing him, however, she scattered the handful of petals over him, letting them drift down to his loins, where his manhood stood stiffly erect.

“Roses become you,” Arabella murmured, a hint of husky laughter in her voice.

She could tell Marcus was striving to remain still, for his hands curled into fists at his sides. Yet he made no move to stop her. Instead, he watched intently as she knelt above him.

Her hair teasing his skin, she bent and pressed a light kiss to his chest. She could feel the tension in his body, feel his heart thudding beneath her lips. And that was before she let her kisses glide lower. When her lips touched him beneath his rib cage, his stomach contracted reflexively.

“Does that hurt?” she asked innocently, raising her gaze to his.

“You know damn well it doesn’t hurt,” Marcus muttered.

“Then what does it feel like?” When he didn’t answer, Arabella caressed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with her fingertips. “Does it feel pleasurable?”

He gave a low, strangled sigh as her hand curled around his thickly engorged shaft. “God, yes.”

Holding him lightly in her grasp, she bent low over him to let her breath whisper over his skin. His arousal jerked eagerly, and when she pressed her lips to the crest, she made him shudder.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he rasped.

“From you, Marcus. I am only following the example you set me last night.”

His ragged laugh turned to a groan. “You are an excellent learner.”

Encouraged, Arabella closed her lips over the swollen head, tasting him with her tongue, intent on pleasuring him as he had pleasured her. His entire body went rigid as he fought for control.

His helpless response roused a potent feminine sense of power in Arabella. She had never felt more keenly aware of her senses; the sweet scent of roses, the alluring musk of Marcus’s skin, the heat swelling between them, the arousing taste of him. She could imagine him thrusting inside her, darkly male and powerful, as she sucked and pulled gently, coaxing another groan from him.

Savoring the sound, Arabella sighed at the sweet spasm of desire that arrowed down to her loins, deep in her center. She could feel her own secret flesh grow moist and swollen, her blood stirring thickly with excitement.

Marcus had squeezed his eyes shut, while his hands clenched at his sides. His restraint was obviously slipping, though, pleasure eroding his will.