Page 104 of The Rake's Daughter
“Sauce for the gander,” he muttered, and drew her dress up over her head and tossed it aside.
“Damn that wretched female.”
Izzy jumped. “Why? Is she back?”
“No, she’s long gone, but I want to see you, and it’s too dark.”
“Me, too. But we daren’t light a candle.”
“I know.”
“We’ll just have to use our imaginations.”
He snorted. “I’ve been imagining this ever since I met you.”
He had? The knowledge thrilled her.
He cupped her bare breasts, kissing, licking and nibbling until she was a puddle of ecstasy. He slid his hands down her sides, sending shivers through her. “Not cold are you?”
“Not at all.” He grasped her bottom, her bare bottom, and with a murmur of appreciation he stroked it and then eased her over him. She hadn’t planned it this way. She and Clarissa had grown up never wearing drawers—like most older people, Nanny didn’t approve of them.Drawers are made for gentlemen, and little girls don’t wear gentlemen’s clothing.
Izzy wasn’t a little girl anymore.
She rocked against him, rubbing herself against his hardness. “Slow down,” he gasped. “Better for you.”
But she could feel the tension throbbing through him. He was taking things slowly for her sake, letting her dictate the pace.
She was the impatient one.
She reached down and pressed her hand over the front of his breeches, feeling the hard rod that was there.
He grabbed her hand and moved it away. “Not yet,” he rasped.
He slipped his hands between her thighs and cupped her. Then stroked with one long finger. She could hear the sound of wetness. She grimaced in embarrassment and tried to close her legs.
“Don’t. You’re perfect,” he murmured. “Just perfect.” He kept stroking. Her legs quivered and fell apart. She was panting, her entire being focused on where his fingers were creating magic. Her legs trembled uncontrollably. The heat between them built. She writhed, aching, grinding her body against his hand.
He eased her away and rolled to one side, and she was about to complain, when she realized he was unbuttoning his breeches. She reached out to touch him, but he caught her hand. “No.” She froze, but then he ground out, “I’m on a knife-edge of control as it is, Belle. If you touch me I’ll shatter.”
A surge of purely female satisfaction filled her.
He moved over her, and she could feel him poised at her entrance. “Sure about this?” His voice was hoarse.
In answer she lifted her bottom and pushed. He gripped her hips, and with one long slow thrust entered her.
She stiffened, flinching a little, but then her body adjusted around him.
“Belle?”
“Keep going.” She pushed against him and he groaned and started moving, slowly at first, then finding his rhythm. At first for Izzy it was a mix of pleasure and pain, but then he slid a finger between them and did something. A streakof fire shot through her and she shrieked and almost jackknifed. And then found herself moving to his rhythm, her body no longer in her control, as if it knew exactly what to do and was impelled to do it.
The pressure built and built. She was striving—for what, she didn’t know—but then he did that thing again, and she arched and... shattered around him.
Distantly she felt him stiffen and give a long shudder, and with a moan he collapsed on top of her.
Chapter Fifteen
Slowly, drowsily, Izzy came back to herself, lying beneath Lord Salcott—Leo—feeling his warm, heavy weight on her—deliciously so. She ran her hands over him. His skin was hot, a little damp and sweaty. She breathed in the scent of him. Intoxicating.
