Page 81 of The Courtship Trap
“So very smug a moment ago,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then another to the hollow of his throat. “And now look at you.”
Sebastian groaned, his fingers tightening at her hips, aching to reclaim his dominance, to flip her beneath him and drive her to madness as she was doing to him.
But then her mouth descended, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the plane of his chest, tracing the contours of his chest with the tip of her tongue. He jolted when she caught his nipple between her teeth, tugging just enough to send a sharp, liquid shock through his veins.
His head fell back against the pillow, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.
“God, Harry.”
She hummed in response, lips trailing lower, savoring him with playful licks and nibbles.
It was exquisite torture.
He had never been so completely at a woman’s mercy, had never lain so utterly vulnerable beneath a lover’s hands. Harriet was no meek, blushing maiden. She was fire and fury, a tempest of passion that threatened to consume him whole.
And he would gladly burn.
Her fingers trailed lower still, skimming his hip bones, her touch both treasuring and mischievous.
“You are beautiful,” she whispered against his skin, and he nearly lost himself then and there.
No one had ever spoken those words to him.
Not like this.
Not in the hushed, awed way that Harriet did now, as though he were a marvel to be worshipped, as though she could never grow tired of exploring him.
His hands slid up her back, desperate to anchor himself, to hold onto something solid as she continued her torturous descent.
“Harry,” he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice. “If you do not stop?—”
“If I do not stop …?”
She lowered her head, her blue eyes dark with challenge as she swirled her tongue around the crown of his cock. He let out a strangled sound, half laugh, half groan, and gripped her hips, rolling them until she was beneath him once more.
Enough.
She had had her turn.
Now it was his.
Sebastian claimed her mouth in a kiss that left no room for resistance—just a deep, shattering need that stole the breath from them both.
Harriet arched beneath him, her fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to send a pleasurable sting through his scalp. His body was strung tight, his mastery fraying, his discipline barely holding by a thread.
“Enough of this torment, Harry,” he murmured against her lips, the words a growl of frustration and need. “I have waited long enough for you.”
Her lips parted, a soft moan escaping as he traced a slow, deliberate path down her throat.
And then, as though she sensed his intent, she shifted beneath him, her body a perfect, warm invitation. Sebastian inhaled her scent, then pressed his forehead to hers, his voice hoarse and raw.
“Are you ready?”
Harriet’s hands slid down his back, nails biting into his skin just enough to make him shudder.
“I have never been more ready in my life.”
Her words shattered the last of his composure.
