Page 61 of The Wolf of Mayfair
In a bid to ease that hot pressure, of their own volition, her hips began to move against Anthony.
He chuckled. “Uh-uh.” Anthony drew himself back so that she was denied the feel of his body against hers.
Helia whimpered.
“Tell me what you like, kitten,” he demanded with a harshness that should have scared her but only sent a further wave of white-hot heat to Helia’s core. “Which one of those?”
“All of them,” she cried out. Her desperation-tinged voice rang around the room and pealed from the rafters. “I want you to do them all to me.”
“All you had to do was say it, Helia.”
With that, Anthony gave her everything she sought. Simultaneously, he devoured her mouth, toyed with the swollen peaks of her breasts, and rubbed his erection over the flat of her stomach. Until it was too much.
She shifted and swayed and stretched.
Helia didn’t know exactly what it was she sought; she knew only that this man was the one to help free her of this sharp yearning.
“Please,” she begged between each meeting of their mouths.
Wordlessly, Anthony yanked her silk skirts up about her waist in a noisy rustle.
The cool air slapped at her exposed limbs, in a welcome balm.
That relief proved all too short lived.
Anthony pressed a hand between her legs, and she cried out from the surprise and deliciousness of that forbidden caress. He cupped her in that most special of places, which she touched only—and only quickly—during her baths.
Never, however, had her touch felt likethis.
Suddenly, Anthony slipped a finger through the curls shielding her womanhood.
Helia whimpered.
She shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t want this. Her body, however, cared nothing about what it should not do, and only about what it wanted.
She wanted whatever wicked, wonderful gift he promised.
Anthony continued to stroke her, moving that long, powerful digit in and then out of her channel. The slow, deliberate glide coaxed a pleasure so deep it crossed over to pain.
Panting, she lifted her hips, in search of some surcease from the unrelenting, urgent ache.
Anthony’s breath came quick and hard, as if he, too, were somehow a beneficiary of the gift he now conferred.
“Please,” she implored, unsure what she begged for, knowing only this man could show her.
Anthony took her mouth in another forceful, possessive kiss that only further deepened the persistent ache between her legs.
Helia angled her head to better receive him. She matched each lash of his tongue, swirling hers around and against his.
He groaned. “You learn quick, love.”
That praise should rouse shame. Except ...
Love . . .
Uttered in the heat of the moment, that endearment certainly didn’t mean what she wished it would, but Helia sighed anyway.
Anthony added another finger and stroked her channel harder, faster.
