Page 59 of Madcap with a Marquess
Tick.
His nostrils flared.
Tick.
Her pulse sped up.
Tick.
His mouth crashed down on hers.
He didn’t hesitate or give her warning. His tongue plunged into her mouth. He was angry. Exacting. His hands released her arms, and air slapped her bare calves. Her hands plunged into his hair. He violently tugged up her skirts. She fisted his curls and yanked him even closer. She wouldn’t let him run away again. She gave him as good as she got.
Better.
He might be furious with her, but she was just as livid. He ground his mouth against hers, lips bruising, teeth clacking. She pressed into him, and they fused together, a tangle of tongues and tortured emotions.
“You have no idea how angry I am with you.” Pain was etched in his words, scraping over her heart. “You have no idea how badly you frightened me.” His fingertips dug into her thighs, his forehead pressing against hers, while his breaths surged against her lips.
His hands slid to the center of her, and she couldn’t hold back her moan any longer. Their simultaneous groans reverberated through the room.
“Bloody hell, you’re so fucking wet for me, Franny.”
She whimpered. She loved when he succumbed to vulgar language. Like the image he’d been crafted in was starting to break away, the real man underneath revealed. She wanted that man. The true man. Their mouths met again, and the heady pressure of his violent kiss, the sweet taste of whipped cream andhimconsumed her. Consumed her as greedily as the man above currently was. Her core throbbed, needing more than the light glides he was giving her.
Rupert’s fingers delved deep inside her. She arched off the table, legs skating desperately against his hips, needing to be closer, needing something to ground her. He thrust his fingers into her again, and his mouth hovered above hers, lips touching, but not kissing her.
“You like it,” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers. “It gets you off, doesn’t it? Disobeying me. Testing my patience.” His fingers slid from her, swirling over her.
“I love it,” she whimpered. Heat coiled tight between her thighs, every circle of his fingers bringing her higher.
His fingers stilled. Her hand flew to his forearm, and she tugged frantically, desperate for him to resume. She was so close. But he didn’t budge. Damn him! She stretched up and bit his lower lip. Hard.
They fell into another furious kiss, but his fingers remained still, their only movement the occasional slight increase in pressure before backing off again. The worst kind of torment. Press. Release. Press. Release.
She growled.
He backed off.
He brushed his nose gently against hers.
She wasn’t fooled by the tender gesture.
“You’re a bad girl, Franny.”
Her body trembled. He said it like a threat. Like a promise.
He lifted off her and her entire body went cold. She needed his weight back on her, the heat of him bleeding into her skin.
“On your knees. Now.”
She scrambled, frantically pulling her skirts out of the way as she rolled over and rose up on all fours.
Whoosh.
Her skirts flew up, cold air hitting her backside. He nudged her legs farther apart and finally—finally—put his fingers back on her. She groaned, dropping her head to the table, her forehead landing in something squishy. She glanced up. Oh dear, the raspberry tart.
But she didn’t have time to be distracted. His fingers slipped over her swollen folds, his other hand biting into her arse. He bent over her, his chest pressing along the length of her back. Heavy, deliciously oppressive. She reveled in it. She pushed against it, needing more of it. Wanting to be completely buried by him.
