A flicker of surprise in his eyes as he drew her stockings down her legs, tossing them to the side.
“No, I haven’t slept with anyone else.” She stretched her arms over her head. Her breasts bobbled, catching Ward’s attention, just as she meant them to.
“Just now you kissed my cunny before touching my breasts,” she said, thinking about that.
Ward’s expression was sending ripples of pleasure through her. Since his legs straddled hers, Eugenia widened her legs just enough to rub against his hair-roughed thighs.
A grin curled the corners of his mouth and he bent over her again. “Your wish is my command. But first . . .”
One of his hands ran down her side, pausing for a second to grip her hip, clenching possessively. “I love this curve.”
The hand slid straight down into the sleek warmth between her legs.
Eugenia squeaked and wriggled, arching against the callused, broad finger stroking her. She felt as if little flares of heat were sparking through her, so scorching they should be visible in the air.
“You are going to tell me what you need, aren’t you?” Ward’s voice came from some deep part of his chest. Commanding her.
“Yes,” she gasped, her breath ragged and harsh.
He kept his hand where it was, but bent his head to her right breast. She froze, waiting . . . waiting . . .
“Eugenia.”
“Please!” She was shivering all over. “I wish—I’d like to touch you.”
A smile ghosted over his mouth. “Anytime.”
“Why are you so much larger than other men?” Her hands slid over his shoulders.
“You seem to like it.”
“That’s not the point. You are not what I imagined an Oxford don to look like.”
“When I was thrown in prison, there was nothing to do. I started to plan an escape from the moment the door locked behind me, of course, but it took a few weeks. I passed the time as productively as I could. I discovered that I like physical exertion.”
He did something with his fingers, and the flash of heat that streaked through her body made sweat spring out on her brow.
“Enjoy that, do you?” Ward murmured.
Eugenia couldn’t even answer because at that moment Ward lowered his body onto hers and finally, finally, put his mouth on her breast.
Andrew—no, she would not think about Andrew!
Men loved her breasts.
Ward loved her breasts.
His hands shaped their heavy weight as his mouth moved from one to the other, as if they were two presents he was determined to enjoy at the same moment. His tongue trapped her nipple, made her moan and squeak and writhe against him.
“Ward!” she cried. She had managed to raise one knee but the other was trapped under his body. And she wanted . . .
He looked down at her and a giddy smile broke out all over her face. This was more fun than she’d had in years.
“Drunk,” he said, with obvious satisfaction, bending over and rubbing her nose with his. Then he slid his tongue in her mouth.
It was strangely erotic to find that he faintly tasted of her.
“More?” he asked, lifting up his head. His eyes were heavy lidded, sensual in a way that made her arch again, impatiently.
“Would you like the same?” she gasped.
“I want everything. I want to taste the two of us intermingled.” Ward shifted his hips and the broad head of his cock slid over her sleek opening.
“Tell me,” he commanded her, one hand possessively encircling a breast, his words muffled because he was suckling her hard.
“Oh, please,” Eugenia cried, feverish and desperate. “Please come inside me.”
“One moment,” he said, reaching over to the small table at the side of the bed.
“What’s that?” she asked, coming up on one elbow.
“A French letter,” he said, “a condom for preventing conception.”
“We needn’t,” Eugenia said. “It takes repeated effort and time to conceive a child; I was married for months.”
“That is not what my father taught me,” Ward said, not bothering to close the drawer. “Apparently I am the result of a single encounter.” He held something that looked like a wrinkled sausage casing with an incongruous ribbon stitched at one end.
“You keep it right there . . . in your bedside table?” Eugenia had the queasy realization that she was likely only the latest of several, if not many, women who had visited this bed and listened to Ward’s smoky commands.
He was slipping the thing over himself but he looked up and grinned at her. “Are you imagining me as the master of a harem?”
Eugenia’s brows drew together. “Not precisely.” She peered at what he was doing. “That looks very uncomfortable.”