Page 92 of The Forbidden Lord
Sweat formed on his brow. She thought to torture him, did she? Well, two could play that game. He insinuated one finger inthe place where they were so tightly joined and groped for her sweet, sensitive center. She gasped when he stroked the nub so lightly, it was almost not a caress.
Now she was the one to groan and undulate toward his hand.
“You like that, don’t you?” He touched her again, briefly and certainly not enough to satisfy. “Is that how you want it?” He mimicked her earlier words. “I am doing it right, aren’t I?”
“Please … Jordan …” She leaned into him, her fingers pinching his shoulders. Her breasts hovered inches from his mouth. Even when draped by her nearly transparent chemise, they were too tempting to ignore.
He sucked one through the muslin, then blew on the wet, gauzy material until she shuddered, her nipple a swollen nubbin beneath the cloth. “More?” he asked wickedly. He bestowed the same treatment on the other one, his tongue darting out to give the nipple a fleeting caress. “Or shall I stop?”
“Curse you for always having to win,” she said even as she dragged off her chemise, then shoved her lovely bare breasts into his face. The motion shifted her on his lap, tightening her grip around his erection.
He groaned. “I think we should both win.” He thrust his hips up beneath her, reminding her of what he wanted. “Move, Emily, move …”
And finally, she did.
It was exquisite. It was utter torture. She found the perfect rhythm, smooth and rapid and enticing. She even managed to blend the rocking of the carriage with her own rocking in a precise symphony of movement that wrung him like a hot hand.
Good God, having her make love to him was incredible. The scent of lavender spiked his senses, and her shimmies and innocent twists sent him reeling. He could hardly hold back his release to await hers. But hold back he did. After last night, he wanted her to know complete satisfaction.
So he focused all his efforts on laving her breasts with his tongue and stroking the hot silk of her between her legs.
“My goodness, Jordan …” she whispered when he tugged on her nipple with his teeth. “Do that again … yes … oh, yes…”
Her unvarnished enjoyment was a curse, for it made it nearly impossible for him to restrain himself. He had to close his eyes to keep from seeing the pleasure shining in her flushed features, the amazingly erotic image of her riding him. As an innocent, she was overpowering; as an experienced woman, she would be annihilating.
God preserve him until the annihilation.
Her rhythm increased, her body descending like a goddess’s to torture him with pleasure. The rush to release became unstoppable, especially when she caught his mouth with hers and began to probe boldly inside with her tongue. He sucked on her tongue with almost frantic eagerness.
Suddenly she broke off the kiss, her body arching above him. “I love you, Jordan!” she cried as she undulated around him. “I love you … I love you …”
That was all it took. With a guttural cry, he spilled himself inside her and felt her shudder around him at the same time.
I love you, her words echoed in his head as he clasped her fiercely to him.I love you.
Chapter Eighteen
And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but
The truth in masquerade.
— LORD BYRON,DON JUAN, CTO. 11, ST. 37
Later, Emily sat in her chemise, drawing on her stockings. Jordan, dressed in only his drawers, leaned forward to rummage inside the amply filled basket from the inn. A surge of affection filled her when she noticed the freckles on his back, a dark smattering of them across his well-defined shoulders.
He was hers. For a brief time, only a few hours perhaps, he was hers.
Her mind clamored to be heard.You shouldn’t have told him you loved him. You shouldn’t have let him make love to you. You should have stayed strong.
She ignored all of it. Someone should have warned her that lovemaking had varied delights. Perhaps then his seduction wouldn’t have taken her so by surprise. Perhaps she wouldn’t have cried out so feverishly that she loved him or exposed herself so wantonly.
Oh, but the look on his face when she’d teased him at the beginning … She stifled a giggle. She would have to do that again sometime, once they were married.
She sobered at once. What was she thinking? They were not going to marry. Shemustreturn to London, even if it meant attempting an escape everywhere they stopped. With each passing hour they moved further north, and there was no telling what Lord Nesfield would do once he discovered her gone. Lady Dundee might hold him off for a while, perhaps even a day or two, but eventually when she didn’t appear …
A hollow fear settled in her chest. When that happened, it would all be over anyway. So she must be strong. She must find a way to escape Jordan.
“The sausage is cold, I’m afraid,” Jordan said as he drew out a greasy, paper-wrapped parcel. “But I think there’s toast and jam. Oh, and here’s a fruit tart. Do you want it?”
