CHAPTER12
Pen Sutton was like the finest port, mysterious and decadent and utterly intoxicating. Surrendering to the temptation to see her one last time had been a mistake. A thoughtless weakness. But he could not regret it now, with her lips warm and soft and sweet beneath his. Nor could he regret it as he found the pins keeping the glory of her rich auburn hair from him and plucked them away.
Her curls spilled heavy and silken around her shoulders, framing her face, unleashing the soft scent of flowers and seductive woman and her. All the hunger and yearning he had so ruthlessly quelled by every means possible rose to the surface, demanding to be answered.
He gave in.
Gave in to the magic that was purely Pen. There was something wondrous about this woman. She was bold and brazen and beautiful, lush in every way a woman ought to be, her body seemingly made for his. But there was also her sharp mind. Her quick wit. He admired her intelligence every bit as much as the rest of her.
He broke the kiss, his breathing harsh, his heart pounding, body aflame, head roaring with desire. The gentleman within him demanded he issue a warning before this progressed too far beyond his control.
“I should go,” he said, though those three words cut him like a blade as he issued them.
Her lips were dark and swollen from his kisses, and he knew the driving urge to see her naked beneath him, to watch her hazel eyes as he sank his cock deep inside her.
Those eyes were glazed with passion, fixed on his now. “Stay.”
His cock went painfully hard. “If I do, I cannot promise I will be able to put an end to this.”
“If you do, I cannot promise I’ll want you to put an end to it,” she countered, her boldness making him go more rigid still.
He had to have this woman.
On a growl, he kissed her again. Their lips slammed together with a mutual lack of finesse that only served to heighten his need. Her hands were on him, roving over his body with a familiarity that belonged to a lover. Pen Sutton was a woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to take it.
And what she wanted now was him. She told him without words, hungrily returning his kisses with an ardor that undid him. Told him as her hands slid inside his coat and urged it off his shoulders. As her clever fingers slipped each button from its mooring on his waistcoat.
The knot of his cravat was next, and when it was gone, she set her lips where it had been, kissing his exposed neck, nipping him with her teeth.
God, yes.He should have known that being with her would be wild. He wanted her mark on him. For her to scratch and bite and suck. His little hellion could have her way with him all she liked.
Together, they worked his shirt over his head, and then they moved to her gown. It was a simple affair, easily removed along with the rest of her garments until she was clad in nothing but a simple chemise, her full breasts straining against the soft fabric. He took a moment to behold her, hair spilling down her back, her arms shapely and creamy, the slimness of her ankles, the perfection, even, of her toes.
“You are beautiful,” he rasped.
More beautiful than she had been draped over the French sofa that night. He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Together, they made their way to her bed at the opposite end of the room, mouths fused. When the edge of the mattress abutted his thigh, he paused to whisk away her chemise as well, leaving her completely bare to his roaming, appreciative gaze.
He wanted to be inside her now, to sink his cock into her wet, tight heat. But he had to pace himself, to savor her. He could not devour her all at once. Guiding her hips until her back was to the bed, he urged her to seat herself.
“I want to see you,” he said thickly. “To taste you.”
He dropped to his knees, longing making his hands tremble as he caressed her waist and then lower, guiding her legs apart. Auburn curls parted as she opened for him. Her cunny was glistening, pink perfection.
His head dipped, fingers sliding through her slickness to allow his tongue to find her plump clitoris. He strummed over it lightly at first, enjoying the way she tasted, musky and womanly with the same hint of flowers that perfumed the rest of her skin. She made a throaty sound of wonder and he licked down her slit to her entrance before thrusting his tongue inside.
He was rewarded by her moaning his name. “Oh, Garrick.”
Not Lord Lordly. Not milord. Just Garrick. Good. He wanted to simply be a man this evening. To be her man.
He returned his attentions to her pearl, latching on to it and sucking as he had done her nipples before. Her reaction was every bit as exquisite. Her hips rocked, undulating against him, as she cried out, her thighs clamping on his head as if to hold him there, just where she wanted him.
He released her, torturing them both by reverting to slow, teasing swipes of his tongue instead. She was deliciously wet and hot as flame, writhing against his mouth with wanton abandon that had him hardening in his trousers. He almost hated that he wore them still, as he was tempted to take himself in hand and stroke. But it was for the best, since he had no wish to spend like a green youth before he had even been inside her.
Instead, he used his fingers to pleasure her, parting her folds to sink into her to the knuckle. Her sweet cunny was drenched, gripping him hard, her body already clenching, then unclenching in the prelude to release. He returned to sucking on her clitoris while the heady sounds of her breathy moans filled the room, mingling with the wetness of his finger as it began to glide in and out in a steady rhythm.
She was tight. So tight, tensed around him. He could not wait to sink into that same inviting wetness with his prick.
Fuck.
He suckled her pearl, then lightly bit as he worked his finger deeper and then added another to join the first, stretching her. Her hips bucked, bringing him to the place she needed, and he thrust high and hard while giving her another long suck. Her release was instant. She tightened on him, nearly coming off the bed as her orgasm rocked through her. He stayed where he was, loving the pulse of her around his fingers, riding out the waves of her pleasure with his lips and teeth and tongue as her dew dripped down his chin.
He was drunk on pleasure.