Page 34 of A Most Unsuitable Lover
Ian was staring at the papers spread out before him but saw none of them. He’d retreated to the safety of his chamber following luncheon under the guise of getting more work done, but it was futile. Especially when he realized his coat smelled like Juliette from having her pressed so near.
He’d performed just about as poorly as to be expected when it came time for him to shoot an actual arrow, but Juliette’s smile had been well worth the good-natured unmanning he’d received.
Now, instead of reviewing potential costs for ordering cloth strips, silk thread, and other basic medical necessities in bulk, Ian’s groin pounded with furious need. He suffered from an insatiable hunger for Lady Juliette Crawford.
Ian’s brows knit together following a small scratch at the door. He hadn’t sent for anything and none of the other guests had reason to disturb him. His heart kicked up instantly at the possibility that it might be Juliette, but surely she was not foolish enough to seek him out in the middle of the day when anyone might stumble upon her.
He would have lost that bet, however, because he opened the door to find her wide blue eyes and perfectly kissable lips waiting for him on the other side.
“Juliette?” Ian croaked disbelievingly.
“I thought you might like some chocolate tart,” she said, holding up the plate in her hand. Sure enough, there was a thick slice of the decadent desert waiting for him. “Even one of the worst marksmen of the day deserves a little something sweet.” He nearly groaned, because she couldn’t have known how he’d so recently imaginedherbeing that something sweet, laid out across his bed like a desert spread for him alone.
“You shouldn’t be here,” was all he managed to say.
“I am just delivering your conciliatory prize and I shall be on my way…leaving your virtue intact.” The glitter in her voice finally snapped Ian’s restraint.
He hauled her into his room and had just enough sense to drop the plate on the desk with a clatter before hauling her against him and kissing her with every ounce of longing he’d held in check for the interminable hours since the last time they had touched.
“You are the sweetness I crave,” he growled between kisses. His tongue stroked her mouth deeply, exploring, tangling with hers in a furious dance.
She pressed her lower body against his, gasping when she felt the rigid evidence of his need. He couldn’t resist the testing thrust his hips made against her softness. Painfully hard and desperate for her touch, Ian captured one of her hands and brought it to his groin, holding her palm there to cup him through his breeches.
“Do you feel what you do to me, lass,” he growled, grinding into her. “I’ve been hard since you teased me during archery…and I’m no’ a man to trifle with.”
“Show me.” Juliette’s words were muffled against his lips, but there was no mistaking them. Especially not when she squeezed him in the most delicious grip.
Panting, Ian freed his throbbing member, and Juliette’s hand immediately covered it with soft, exploratory fingers.
“So good,” he hissed. “I’ve wanted your hands on me for so long, lass.” And one of his fantasies was realized when she knelt in front of him and began to stroke.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Juliette said in a shaky voice. He could practically feel her appreciative eyes upon the thick, ruddy head. Her hand tested the girth and length next, trying to see if her fingers would meet as she wrapped them around him tightly, stroking where the root sprung from a nest of reddish curls. He moaned in delight, knowing her virgin flesh would be even more tantalizingly tight than this. He fought not to thrust into her, lest he break the spell of the moment.
“Not half as beautiful as you.” Juliette’s face flushed; he suspected his did as well when she looked up at him from that position, her beautiful eyes wide and her hand on his cock.
“May I kiss you?” she asked softly, and it nearly brought Ian to his knees.
“Please,” was his strangled reply. And Ian nearly died when he watched her grip his member reverently and place a very tender, chaste kiss upon one of the least chaste places he possessed. And he never wanted it to end. He nearly lost consciousness when she did it again and her lips parted, tongue darting out to trace the slit.
“Fucking hell…” he groaned and his fingers flew to her head; his heart thudded so hard against his ribs it made them ache.
He wanted to hold her there.
He wanted to thrust deep as she sucked him.
He wanted to watch her delight as he poured out his soul and surrendered to her completely.
Instead, he held so utterly still, afraid to breathe or move lest she disappear into smoke.
She rewarded him with another kiss. And then another. And another. Growing bolder and more comfortable with each one until she enveloped his aching head between her lips, sucking tentatively.
It nearly killed him to do it, but Ian forced himself to speak: “You needn’t do that.”
“I want to…”
And that was his undoing. He helped her find a rhythm with her kisses and caresses. She took him deeper, learning how a flick of her tongue could make him lose his breath, and a swirl around the head made him weak in the knees.
The groan ripped from his chest was animalistic, layered with amazement and disbelief at what she was gladly doing to him. Ian basked in the glow of her attention, the selfless way she wanted to learn to give him pleasure. His head fell back in surrender, his chest heaving as the strength of his arousal increased. It rose within him swiftly and violently, building at the base of his spine and ricocheting through his limbs, washing his mind free of everything except for her hands, her mouth on him. And when her free hand cupped the soft sac beneath his member, Ian knew all was lost.
