Page 46 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
They tumbled to the blanket together, and he took hold of one of her knees, his finger firm on her thigh as he raised it around his hip. It gave him access to press their hips together, their centres meeting through their clothes. She moaned against his lips with the friction.
The last time Edward had bent the rules was in India, many months ago now, but somehow, this was different. He felt it much keener. The way her fingers reached up and gripped his shoulder blades made him feel strong and completely in control, and the pleasure coiled in his lower abdomen to make his length stand on end for her.
When he parted her lips completely, tangling their tongues together, he hardly cared they were outside, that the wind was growing chillier with each passing moment, nor that an animal could come upon them. All he cared about was keeping Juliet here, making her moan in this way continuously.
He started pulling the skirt of her gown, wanting access to her. She even shifted her legs, aiding him in his task.
He pulled back from their kiss a little and looked into her eyes.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clearly sensing what question he was about to ask.
He longed to know something more. Did she even know what he wanted to do? Or was she content to experience it without knowing it in words first?
“The ultimate rebellion?” he offered her with a wink. Such a smile took over her face that he smiled indulgently and bent down.
Lifting her skirt higher and higher, he first kissed her legs through the stockings she wore, then above the stockings, kissing the bare skin of her thighs. She tipped her head back on the blanket, moaning aloud.
The mere brush of his lips on her skin was a thrill to him, the promise of something more, a tease. When he pulled down her stocking, kissing more and more of her skin with an open-mouthed wet brush of his tongue, her sounds grew louder, breathier.
They were so far away from the house that he was glad she made those sounds. They were for their pleasure only, and they stood no chance of being overheard.
He kissed along her bare hips next, shifting her chemise and her gown until her centre was revealed to him. Each touch, each tantalizing and brief teasing brush, was a promise of what was to come. He kissed the top of the damp curls there, aware that she was now raising herself onto her elbows, looking down at what he was doing.
His eyes met hers, and he waited for her confirmation again. When she gave the smallest of nods, curiosity clearly burning within her, he acted fast, determined to give her as much pleasure as possible.
He hooked one of her knees over his shoulder, and he bent down to her centre, kissing her there.
The sounds that fell from her lips were everything. Sometimes, she moaned his name, and other times, she couldn’t quite complete the whole word.
“Edward …” she managed, her body quivering around him.
He could feel her growing wetter, feel her pleasure as her leg shook on his shoulder. When he was certain she was lost in her pleasure completely, nearing her end, he raised himself and slipped his finger inside her.
She was so shocked at the sudden change that her eyes shot open, and she stared up at him, watching him as he moved his fingers.
He felt utterly connected to her, moving his fingers in and out of her, drinking in the sight of her parted lips as she moaned his name and the heated cheeks that were a bright pink in the moonlight. She even rocked her hips down towards him, experimenting, feeling more of her pleasure. That movement alone made a growl escape his throat.
He wanted her completely, and the wild idea of entering her on this blanket and making love to her for a minute seemed entirely possible.
With his fingers inside her, he moved his thumb to a sensitive spot outside her. Her eyelids fluttered closed again, her hands stretching to the blanket beneath her as she writhed in pleasure.
“Edward …” she repeatedly moaned his name as he drove her closer and closer towards her edge.
He bent over her, whispering in her ear as he kissed her neck.
“All for you,” he murmured.
A voice in the back of his head longed to utter the words …
You’re mine.
He held himself back. She wasn’t his. They were not wed, and they could not be wed.
When her moans grew louder, his movements became faster. His thoughts were absorbed in Juliet as she bucked on the blanket, her legs quivering as she finally reached that climax of pleasure.
Edward couldn’t stop himself from leaning over her again. His length was straining against his trousers as he watched Juliet reach her heights. His eyes, fixated on her face, watched as she blushed a deep shade of red. One of her hands was in her own hair, pulling the tendrils distractedly so that her updo was completely loose; her other hand gripped his shoulder with such strength that his mind went wild.
He pictured making love to her there on the blanket, replacing his hand with his length and pressing himself into her, watching her face as he truly took her.
