Page 32 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
However, as she walked into her bedchamber, she heard the door close behind her. The next moment, Mark’s arms were around her waist, and his lips were upon her neck once more. She tilted her head and pushed her buttocks back, relishing in the feel of his member against her. If he were to unfasten his trousers and lift her skirts, she could have him inside her within moments.
No… Not yet! Not yet. I do not want him that way, to begin. I must take my time, now I have the opportunity.
During her foolish, youthful dalliance with her father’s business associate, her paramour had never been gentle. It had been a pounding race for that wretch, rather than an entanglement of mutual enjoyment. Of course, back then, she had not known any better. She had supposed that was how it was meant to be.
As for her awkward, singular encounter with her husband… She doubted it could even be called a coupling, for it had never reached that moment of union. She had been rebuffed long before then.
“Shall we read, my dear Johanna?” Mark purred in her ear.
She forced herself to remove his arms from around her waist, and crossed to the small, velvet settee by the fireplace. Settling down on the comfortable cushions, she observed the letter for a moment. The penmanship did not look familiar.
“You say there is no name upon it?” She looked up at Mark, as he came to join her.
He shook his head. “Nor is there a proper recipient, which is why I suspected you might have subscribed to some sort of scandalous collective. Rather like the scandal sheets, but for a much more particular realm of interest.”
“Perhaps there is something recognizable about these curling parts.” Johanna brushed her fingertip across the address, though how could someone have gotten it so wrong? Why would anyone think she lived at Mark’s townhouse?
Mark nudged her gently. “Open it.”
Gingerly, as though something might leap out, Johanna unfurled the letter and flattened it out on her lap. Taking a shallow breath, for she could not inhale any deeper with Mark so temptingly close, she began to read.
With every sentence, her eyes grew wider, until she felt quite sure they were about to bulge out of her head. Truly, she could not believe anyone had possessed the courage to write such detailed, delicious secrets, much less send them out into the world. And to the wrong address.
“I can understand your surprise now,” she said, as she came to the last three words:Until next time…In truth, she was rather disappointed there was not more, for she would have liked to learn everything there was to know about what came next.
Mark pressed his lips to the peak of her shoulder. “I am more worried about the letter you sent to me. You said you are not concerned about it, but… I must worry on your behalf.”
“Let us not think about that now,” she urged. She had paced and fidgeted and paced some more, all day long, awaiting his visit. If it were ruined by the prospect of someone spreading cruel gossip, she would combust from frustration.
He nodded. “As you prefer, Sweeting.”
“Sweeting?” Her heart swelled. “I rather like that.”
“And what of this?” He dipped to kiss just beneath her jaw. “Do you like this?”
She smiled coyly. “Your kisses or what I have read?”
“Both,” he murmured, flicking his tongue against her skin.
Her eyes closed, savoring every touch of his mouth. “I think we have already whispered sweet nothings to one another, and you have—” A gasp rose up from her throat as his teeth grazed at her earlobe, elaborating on the instruction in the letter.
“I have…?” His hand came up to caress her breasts, while his breath whispered against her skin, making it tingle.
She pressed her lips together, enjoying him too much to speak. “I am… supposed to do… these things to you,” she managed to say, breathing hard.
“I like to give and receive equally, Sweeting,” he replied, letting his hand trail down her stomach. She shivered exquisitely as his fingertips moved lower, tracing up and down the line of her inner thigh, coming almost too close to the heat between her thighs, like he was testing how far he dared to go. “And you are the dessert that I have been longing to devour.”
Johanna smiled, realizing he must have memorized the letter. “Is that why you are calling me your Sweeting?”
“You taste like warmed honey,” he said, leaning over so her could catch her mouth in his. Meanwhile, his hand continued to caress her inner thigh. “Your lips are sugary, and your skin…” He paused to kiss along her jaw. “Your skin tastes like… paradise.”
Bringing his lips back to hers, they kissed so slowly and sensually that her thighs began to tremble. A kiss could be slow and earth-shattering and passionate and sensual, all at once. Though she did not mind the fast and fervent kind they had shared at the door, either.
As their kiss deepened, his body pushed against her, prompting her to lie back on the settee until he was on top of her. The glorious weight of him made her own body cry out for him, wanting him closer than ever before.
“What does the letter mean by… me being on… my knees?” She broke away for just a moment, to catch her breath.
He bit his lower lip, and a hint of mischief shone in his eyes. “We shall come to that in time,” he said, parroting the words on the letter. “Tonight is about you, not me. Though I hope these encounters shall always be about us.”
