Page 129 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“Help me undress?” she whispered.
“I have something else in mind,” he answered. “I have wanted to do it from the first time I saw you in the blue and gold gown.”
He helped her stand and set her hands on her dressing table. The candlelight fell on her face and chest. He loosened her gown just enough for him to slip his hand underneath the neckline and pull her breasts out, and then he began to fondle the nipples.
“Bram,” she breathed, her knees going weak.
“Don’t move,” he whispered into her ear. “Keep your hands planted right there.”
She heard him undress behind her. She thought it was just his trousers, but when he stepped up behind her, he was fully naked. Then he slowly lifted her skirts from behind.
Up, up, up went the fabric of her gown. It teased the backs of her legs, and then he flipped it onto her back.
Then he was there between her legs. His fingers and his cock. She was ready by then. Wet and hungry, but he still took his time.
He did as he wanted. First playing with her breasts, then stroking between her legs. Then he helped her tilt her arse back before he slowly, inevitably, imbedded his cock inside her. But didn’t thrust. He held her pinioned while he returned to playing with her nipples.
Good God, what he did to her! She couldn’t move as he tugged and twisted her breasts. Lightning shot through her blood. He was so big inside her and around her. And she was exploding with sensation.
She was sobbing his name by the time he began to thrust, his hands dropping to her hips, holding her in place.
She bent forward, her back arched. Their reflection in the mirror shocked her. Her breasts were brazenly exposed, the nipples distended from his play. But it was his face that held her transfixed. Fierce. His eyes were languid, but his jaw was thrust up and his neck tightened in rippling cords. His teeth were exposed as he took her. And when his thumb slipped between her folds, he grinned, knowing exactly what he did to her.
She came in an explosive riot of movement, but he held her pinned. And while her body gripped him, he thrust hard and fast, his teeth bared. Again and again.
She loved the sight.
And then it hit him. She saw the moment come. And then, to her shock, he bit her.
It was so startling the way he clamped down on her shoulder, marking her there while he exploded below. Shocking because she liked the flash of pain, the sharp sensation extending her orgasm. She also loved seeing the way he lost himself to her. He was completely subjected to the demands of his body—of her body capturing his. It was the only time she felt like she owned him as completely as he possessed her.
But then the moment was over. He collapsed against her back. And now, as his breath steadied, he straightened up only to curse.
“Bram?”
“Your shoulder,” he rasped, indicating the dark red mark. “Bloody hell, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Tears burned in her eyes and clogged her throat. He wanted to erase his mark on her, and she hated that. He flipped down her skirt, and she straightened to her full height, then forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”
“It’s right there. Everyone will see,” he said. “God, why did I do that?”
Because he’d wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he was so damned stubborn. Why the hell wouldn’t he give himself to her? She didn’t care that he was a bastard. He was the only one she wanted.
“I—” he began, obviously flustered. “Can you cover it with make up? Before your maid sees?”
“No need.” She reached for the iron used to curl hair and set it in the coals. The weather had turned cool enough that the maid had lit a fire, so soon the metal was the right temperature.
“What are you doing?”
She took it out, then tilted her hair away from the bite. She hated doing this. It had nothing to do with the coming pain. She hated erasing his mark, but she could see he needed her to do it. He needed to hide from what they were together.
She set the hot iron against her skin. He cried out, but no more than she. The skin sizzled, and now she could finally let her tears fall.
First burn done. She adjusted the damned thing to cover the entire bite and pressed down.
“Stop it!” He jerked the iron away, his fingers on the hot metal since she held the handle. It burned him too, and he tossed it aside with a curse.
She exhaled, the pain lessening, but only slightly. She’d had burns before and knew it would take a good long time to heal. She shifted, turning her shoulder to the mirror. The skin was red and puffy, the burn clearly in the shape of the hair iron.
