panting, "Yes, yes."
He explored gently at first, taking in her intoxicating scent, the delicate texture of her need. Her taste flooded his tongue and made him want more. He probed into her, then deeper when she groaned her approval. But when he worked his way up to that tight bud of her clitoris, Emma cried out, a deep groan that couldn't quite be contained by her clenched teeth. He lapped at that spot again, and smiled when her fingers curled cruelly into his hair. "Yes!' she moaned. "There."
As if he couldn't tell. Hart chuckled against her flesh and rewarded her demands with a firmer touch. She shuddered and pushed herself higher against his mouth.
"Hart." Her voice was a high, breathless keen. "I've wanted this . . ."
God, he'd wanted this too. This and so much more. Almost from the moment they'd been introduced. He slipped one finger inside her. She bucked beneath him, trying to hold back a scream. Her flesh clutched at him, and, oh if it were his cock . . . pushing in, finding its way into that tightness. He suckled at her little bud, felt her muscles tightening, felt his need spiraling higher.
Hart looked up, expecting to find her blind, reaching for her peak, but he was shocked to meet her gaze. She was watching him, any trace of hesitance long dissolved in pleasure. Her eyes were narrowed, glinting. Her lips parted before her breath, but they curled up at the corners, hinting at satisfaction and demand. She didn't look away from his gaze. Instead, her eyes narrowed even further and glittered with wickedness.
That kind of boldness deserved a reward. Hart closed his lips around her, suckling, and slid another finger into her body. Emma threw her head back with a grimace and a scream. She tried to back away, but it was too late. Her hips jerked and strained. Hart's name was torn from her throat in a hoarse scream.
He let her go when her hips finally fell back to the table, then he laid his cheek against her hot thigh and tried to calm himself down. Not easy given the view, but he tried. That glance into her eyes . . .
He'd recognized her. They were kindred spirits. Depraved and wicked and trying to deny it to the world. But she'd liked it. She'd liked being ordered about, liked being set on a table and devoured like a candied treat. The danger and the depravity. Whatever reason she had for denying herself, it had nothing to do with what she wanted. And Hart understood that completely.
His understanding helped him gather the will to raise his hands to her crumpled skirts and ease the fabric down her thighs. A quick check of the floor and he had her pale pink drawers in hand.
Emma snapped from her daze. She sat forward and slid to the ground so quickly that Hart was forced to scoot back. He fell to his backside, suddenly struck with the image of how he must look: sprawled on the floor with a cockstand , a pair of pink drawers in his fist. Utterly ridiculous. Corrupt. Depraved. Hart couldn't help but grin.
His lover didn't seem to appreciate his good humor. She glared at him, clearly wishing she could roast him with her eyes, then swooped down and snatched the delicate garment from his fingers, muttering something under her breath. Hart heard the word "obnoxious" quite clearly.
She looked fetchingly enraged as she turned her back and stepped into her underclothes. "You tremble quite keenly, my dearest Emma."
"Are you trying to tempt me to murder?"
"No, but something just as impulsive."
"Maiming?"
"Hmm. No, not that. One more guess."
"You." She spun about and speared him with a glare. "You needn't be so ridiculously jolly. Not only is it completely absurd on your ducal countenance, but your happiness is premature. I will not be your lover. Your work was in vain."
"Well, not for you, I hope. It seemed quite fruitful."
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What is the matter with you? You're positively . . ." She waved a hand in a tight circle. "This isn't amusing."
"No." Hart shook his head and finally
He explored gently at first, taking in her intoxicating scent, the delicate texture of her need. Her taste flooded his tongue and made him want more. He probed into her, then deeper when she groaned her approval. But when he worked his way up to that tight bud of her clitoris, Emma cried out, a deep groan that couldn't quite be contained by her clenched teeth. He lapped at that spot again, and smiled when her fingers curled cruelly into his hair. "Yes!' she moaned. "There."
As if he couldn't tell. Hart chuckled against her flesh and rewarded her demands with a firmer touch. She shuddered and pushed herself higher against his mouth.
"Hart." Her voice was a high, breathless keen. "I've wanted this . . ."
God, he'd wanted this too. This and so much more. Almost from the moment they'd been introduced. He slipped one finger inside her. She bucked beneath him, trying to hold back a scream. Her flesh clutched at him, and, oh if it were his cock . . . pushing in, finding its way into that tightness. He suckled at her little bud, felt her muscles tightening, felt his need spiraling higher.
Hart looked up, expecting to find her blind, reaching for her peak, but he was shocked to meet her gaze. She was watching him, any trace of hesitance long dissolved in pleasure. Her eyes were narrowed, glinting. Her lips parted before her breath, but they curled up at the corners, hinting at satisfaction and demand. She didn't look away from his gaze. Instead, her eyes narrowed even further and glittered with wickedness.
That kind of boldness deserved a reward. Hart closed his lips around her, suckling, and slid another finger into her body. Emma threw her head back with a grimace and a scream. She tried to back away, but it was too late. Her hips jerked and strained. Hart's name was torn from her throat in a hoarse scream.
He let her go when her hips finally fell back to the table, then he laid his cheek against her hot thigh and tried to calm himself down. Not easy given the view, but he tried. That glance into her eyes . . .
He'd recognized her. They were kindred spirits. Depraved and wicked and trying to deny it to the world. But she'd liked it. She'd liked being ordered about, liked being set on a table and devoured like a candied treat. The danger and the depravity. Whatever reason she had for denying herself, it had nothing to do with what she wanted. And Hart understood that completely.
His understanding helped him gather the will to raise his hands to her crumpled skirts and ease the fabric down her thighs. A quick check of the floor and he had her pale pink drawers in hand.
Emma snapped from her daze. She sat forward and slid to the ground so quickly that Hart was forced to scoot back. He fell to his backside, suddenly struck with the image of how he must look: sprawled on the floor with a cockstand , a pair of pink drawers in his fist. Utterly ridiculous. Corrupt. Depraved. Hart couldn't help but grin.
His lover didn't seem to appreciate his good humor. She glared at him, clearly wishing she could roast him with her eyes, then swooped down and snatched the delicate garment from his fingers, muttering something under her breath. Hart heard the word "obnoxious" quite clearly.
She looked fetchingly enraged as she turned her back and stepped into her underclothes. "You tremble quite keenly, my dearest Emma."
"Are you trying to tempt me to murder?"
"No, but something just as impulsive."
"Maiming?"
"Hmm. No, not that. One more guess."
"You." She spun about and speared him with a glare. "You needn't be so ridiculously jolly. Not only is it completely absurd on your ducal countenance, but your happiness is premature. I will not be your lover. Your work was in vain."
"Well, not for you, I hope. It seemed quite fruitful."
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What is the matter with you? You're positively . . ." She waved a hand in a tight circle. "This isn't amusing."
"No." Hart shook his head and finally
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