Never Marry a Viscount (Scandal at the House of Russell 3) - Page 70

She put her face back down, hiding. She liked the darkness better—then she could pretend that no one could see; no one could know. But he could see her quite clearly; he would know everything about her reaction to the things he did.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to touch that part of him that invaded her body, that part where all this desire seemed to be centered. But she didn’t want the light. She could do it in the dark, touch him, stroke him. The very thought was giving her pleasure, and she finally understood why he had put his mouth on her.

She lifted her head, still shy. “Could you put out the light?”

He laughed, but it was a gentle laugh, without the ironic edge he usually had. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to see you.”

“I’m more comfortable in the darkness,” she said miserably. He was so close, his cock was so near, and she wanted to touch it, but the light frightened her.

“Please,” she said.

“Sophie, we’re going to make love in the fields in the middle of the day, on the desk in my library, in the pool, on the floor of every damned room in this house and Renwick and every other house I own. I’m going to take you on the damned kitchen table, cover you with lemon sauce and whipped cream and then lick it off you. We may even try that here if I can get rid of the new cook. You’re going to have to get used to the light, because I want you, badly, and I can’t imagine ever not wanting you. I’ll take you every way I can, and in ways that haven’t been invented yet.”

His words only made it worse, this need to touch him. He was arousing her, deliberately, when she didn’t need the arousal; she was still so shaky from his mouth that she thought he only had to touch her and she would explode again.

She put her hand on his stomach, and he drew his breath in sharply. It was a flat stomach, golden from swimming in the sun, and there was a faint tracery of hair moving down into the drawers. She could see the shape of him, pushing against the fabric, and she felt some of her nervousness melt away.

Very slowly and carefully she put out her hand, as if she were approaching something dangerous, and touched him through the thin cloth.

He muttered something, closing his eyes, and she knew he liked it. What else would he like?

The buttons were strained tight over his erection, and she wanted to tear the clothing off as she’d ripped off her own dress, but she resisted. She glanced up at Alexander. He was leaning back, his eyes closed, tension rippling through him. Did he like this? Did he want her to do it?

It didn’t matter. She certainly hadn’t wanted him to do such a scandalous thing to her, and the feeling had been beyond anything she could imagine. She wanted to give him that same feeling; she wanted to see him, to touch him, to taste him.

She began to unbutton him, very carefully, starting from the bottom. When she finished, he sprang free, and Alexander groaned. His hand was on her shoulder, and he slipped it beneath her hair, cupping her neck, kneading it, calming her, arousing her.

She looked at his cock, studied it. It was totally different from the statues and paintings she’d peeked at. Those had been small, droopy things. This was huge—no wonder he had hurt her. His skin there was pale, and there were veins bulging around it. The top was smooth, round, with a drop of liquid on it. She put one finger to it, and it came away sticky. Interesting.

She encircled him with her hand, sliding it down over the veins, the skin sliding with her, and then she touched the sack beneath, gently, and he hissed out something.

But he held very still, and she took that as permission. She liked this part of him, this private part that no one else could see or touch. He took her hand and placed it back around him, and then moved it, showing her what he liked, and the heat blossomed again inside her. She rested her head on his stomach, watching his cock as they moved their hands together, up and down, up and down, and it seemed to grow even larger. He leaned back on the bed, his other hand kneading the back of her neck, and she felt him shiver in pleasure.

She lifted her head slightly, and his grip loosened, ready to release her. Or stop her, she wondered. She wanted this. Her body wanted this. At last she understood. She leaned forward and put her mouth on his cock.

He let out a string of such blasphemous profanity that she might have pulled away, but he’d tightened his hand on her neck, not forcing her, but holding her, caressing her, as she took him into her mouth, as much as she could, sucking on him, tasting the sweet flesh, letting her tongue run along the veins.

“Up and down.” His voice was hoarse. “Please, Sophie. Move your mouth.”

She smiled, triumph rushing through the erotic haze that surrounded her. She wanted everything; she wanted his pleasure to burst into her mouth so that she could drink it. She was pagan, wicked, and she sat up for a moment, ripping her shift as she yanked it over her head and threw it. She needed to be naked, she needed the light, she felt like an animal and she liked it.

She drew him into her mouth again, sucking hard, and his hands threaded through her hair, caressing her scalp, as she slid down to capture all of him that she could, so much that she wanted to choke on it, and then, sliding back up, her lips closed tightly around him.

She heard his guttural moan, and she felt it between her legs, a strange tightening when he wasn’t even touching her. She sank down again, taking a little bit more this time, and Alexander cried out. She could make him climax this way, she knew she could, and it was what she wanted. She sucked hard, up and down his shaft, never able to take it all but coming close, and she stopped thinking, lost in sensation, drowning in it, tasting it . . .

“No,” he cried in a hoarse voice, pulling her away as his hips bucked. He yanked her up beside him, collapsing back on the pillow, holding her there beside him while he tried to regain control.

“Why did you stop me?” she said, frustrated, needy. “I wanted to.”

“You don’t know what happens when I come. You’re too inexperienced for this.”

“I know what happens. I felt it on my stomach.” She thought for a moment. “Is it poisonous?”

His laugh was raw. “No. It’s harmless, and it’s a good way to avoid babies.”

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