Page 61 of Madcap with a Marquess
He slowed his thrusts. That glide, his hard, hot flesh, caressing her deep inside… A broken sob fled her.Thatwas punishment.
A rich, dark chuckle escaped him.
“Rupert,please.”
His chuckle died, and his thighs turned to iron against her, his thrusts stopping entirely. She ground herself desperately against him.Oh, sweet heavens, that felt exquisite.His fingers dug into her hips, freezing her.
“Beg again.” His harsh words sliced through the stillness.
Her brain was nothing but a puddle of lust, too slow for the likes of Rupert.
“Beg. Again.”
Her breath stuttered, and she hurried to comply. “Please. Rupert, please.”
His fingers flexed, the tension in his frame radiating into her.
“Please what?”
One long, lazy glide, and her eyes fluttered. Not enough.
“What does my bad girl want?”
Him.
Her words came out a plea, a whine, but she didn’t care. “Fuck me, Rupert.Please.”
He lowered over her, his heated whisper dancing over her skin. “As my lady wishes.”
Rupert drove into her, ripping a low moan from her. His pace was relentless, the pound of his hips against hers brutish, his low grunts in her ear uncivilized. Porcelain clattered, the metallic clink of silverware echoed sharply. Her arms bent under the force of his thrusts, her cheek pressing into the gathered tablecloth. A crash sounded as something fell off the table. Rupert didn’t falter for a moment. Her gaze caught on a peach rolling across the floor.
Her core quivered, a low thrum beginning deep inside. Each uncivilized thrust brought her higher. Her entire body vibrated, on the verge of shattering. And then his fingers slipped to her again, and with the lightest of movements, he pressed over her clitoris at the same time his cock drove into her.
And she was done for.
Hedonistic pleasure streaked through her, like her body was a fuse and he her match. She screamed out her release, body arching, bucking, completely out of her control, completely in his hands.
The rasp of his breath against her neck stuttered, and a guttural noise ripped from him, rolling through the dining room. The steel length of him drove deep once more and then held there. At the heart of her.
She panted heavily, her chest surging in rhythm with his, the last waves of pleasure rippling through her.
And then he was gone, his boots thumping loudly on the rug. She hastily pushed up, warmth infusing her face, she hurried to cover her bare bottom with her skirts. After the intensity of the moment, the knowledge of how on display she had been sent heat burning up her neck and over her cheeks.
Rupert vigorously stuffed his shirt in his breeches and buttoned them. She scrambled to the edge of the table, and by the time she hopped off, he was already striding toward the door.
She furrowed her brow, her thoughts a dizzying mess. “Where are you going?”
He paused and looked back over his shoulder. She took a step backward. If looks could annihilate, his did.
“You are…vexed?” What in the blazes? Had they not just made progress? She had thought… They were just intimate. And it had been…beyond words. That was good, was it not? “Is this because I threw fruit at you?”
He stepped toward her, his hand erratically drumming against his thigh. “Fruit?” His eyes bugged. “No, Franny! I could not care less about the bloody fruit.” He shook his head, hair flopping violently. “I don’t know if I’m angrier at myself for fucking you like an animal on our dining room table or at you for what you did last night or at myself for-for—for fucking everything!”
He pivoted on his heel and moved for the door.
“Wait, Rupert! Let’s talk about this.”
He spun sharply, and she stopped short.
