Shock stilled her body as heat flushed her skin. Never had she been this exposed to a man before—and in Lady Beaumont’s garden! He pulled his lips from Constance’s, his head dipping to allow his tongue to lash at her sensitive nipple. He sucked her deep into his mouth, and her body jerked under the burn of pleasure, eroding all rational thought. Her breath caught on a surge of yearning so abrupt and intense it felt like pain.
He released her breast and traced kisses up her neck, nipping at her lips. “Why did you not stay away from me?” he demanded roughly, then pressed another deep kiss on her lips.
She pulled her lips away, confused. “Lucan, I—”
He swallowed her response, his hands kneading her hips. Her desire heightened as he dragged her dress up the length of her legs, conforming her petticoats to his will. He trailed his fingers up the length of her leg, and over her silken stockings. Then he explored farther, letting his hand drift up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His long fingers slipped between the juncture of her thighs, parted her drawers, feeling her most intimate spot. It was decadent and wicked.
Oh, God. Constance ripped her mouth from his and pressed her head hard against his shoulder, her face hot with mortification. The clamoring of her heartbeat seemed to drive the air from her lungs, and confusion washed over her, as she tried to assimilate the feelings that throbbed so strangely between her legs.
She swallowed as he slid one long finger slowly into the heart of her, sending a bolt of exquisite sensation through her. Hot, drowning pleasure gripped her as he started a slow glide and retreat. Wetness coated his fingers, and her hips arced into his hands. Moans she could not control ripped from deep inside of her, and Constance bit into his shoulder to prevent herself from crying out, as her stomach tightened in painful need.
“You are so responsive.” The dark velvet rasp of his voice sank into her, promising unimaginable pleasures.
He pressed his leg between hers and shifted his foot widening her more to his intimate caress. Her cry was choked off as his fingers pressed deeper.
“Kiss me, my sweet,” he murmured roughly and she complied.
She whimpered in his mouth and flinched as a second finger probed at her entrance. She stiffened, and he caressed her until his thumb pressed against a spot that had her arcing into him, her mind hazy from need. The bite of pain at the entry of his two fingers were drowned out under the exquisite sensation that splintered her body.
His lips gentled, and her body trembled in the aftermath of such vicious pleasure. He gently eased his fingers from her body, and licked her wetness from them. Her gaze fixated on his mouth as his tongue flicked over his fingers and shocking arousal burned in her veins at his action. He then dipped his head, peppering soothing kisses along her lips and jawline.
Constance trembled and a deep fear filled her. He embodied every secret fantasy she had ever had. She was more like her mother than she realized for he did not speak of marriage, yet she was allowing such liberties. I am a wanton.
With a harsh groan he pulled away from her, and with swift efficiency, he re-laced her corset and fixed her gown. “Please forgive me for losing control, Constance. Tidy your hair. I will do my utmost best to see that you are returned inside without being seen.”
She nodded, uncertain how to proceed after such startling intimacy. “Shall I expect you tomorrow?”
He froze. “I will not be calling on you again.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly.
His eyes narrowed. “Leave before I bend you over and fuck you here.”
She stumbled back and stared at him with widened eyes. She searched his gaze, trying to understand why he was being so vulgar. Their entire encounter had been magical. She may not know the word, but his tone said everything. “Why do you push me away with such crude words?”
He tensed.
“Do you think me so foolish I would not see, Lucan?”
He jerked from her, raking his hand though his hair. She blinked bemused at the red stain that heightened his stunning cheekbones. She suddenly realized he was not all that comfortable with how he spoke to her. “Are you blushing, Lucan?”
His look of male affront had her smiling, dispelling some of her unease.
“If you do not leave now, I am going to lay you down and take my pleasure with you. Is that what you want?”
“Absolutely not.” She stepped back warily, her heart pounding.
“Are you so sure, Lady Constance? Your continued presence indicates you want me to toss up your skirts.” His words were cutting like a knife.
“You are being deliberately hurtful, and I see you are pushing me from you. I only want to know why, so I will not be haunted by it,” she whispered hoarsely.