The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie(30)

“Shh.”

He licked the hollow of her throat, then pulled her soft skin between his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a love bite.”



“A love—“

Ian bit down, and Beth inhaled sharply. He suckled, keeping it tender. He tasted the salt of her skin, felt her pulse flutter beneath his lips.Strip for me, he wanted to say. He wanted to see his Beth with her skirts up, her fingers untying the waistband of her pantalets. He wanted her to pull the pantalets down so he could see her triangle of hair glistening with moisture. His already hard erection gave a throb.

He wondered if her nipples would taste the same as her neck. He wanted to unbutton the bodice and remove the damned corset so he could feast on her breasts. He wanted to open his mouth over one, grip the other with his hand.

Go slowly with her. Savor this.

Ian raised his head. He let his gaze brush hers, catching a flash of blue before he lowered it to the safety of her lips again.

Very kissable lips. The bottom one curved slightly, as though she liked to smile; the top one was ever so slightly bowed. Her eyes were half closed, her hair mussed, a dark mark on her throat where he’d suckled her.

“Your turn now,” he said.

Ian slid off his frock coat, pulled off his tie and collar.

Beth watched him intently as he bared his throat. She approached him tentatively, keeping her gaze fastened to his neck. Her curls ticked his chin as she leaned into him, her balled hands resting on his shoulders. Her lips touched his throat, warm and firm. Then he felt the tiny prick of her teeth.

He couldn’t stifle his groan as she caught a fold of his skin. The slight pain as she began to suckle made him want to spill his seed. Lay her on the floor, part her legs, send it inside her. Never since he’d been seventeen years old and first excited by the attentions of a rosy-cheeked maid had he come so close to losing control.

He wanted to open his shirt all the way and have Beth apply her mouth to his nipples. Then let her sink down to her knees to take his staff into her clever mouth and practice giving him love bites there.

Have carnal relations, she’d said in her sweet voice. On occasion, when we mutually agree.

Oh, yes, there would be many occasions, and he would make certain they always agreed.

Beth eased away and looked up at him, her eyes blue enough to break his heart. “Is that right?” He couldn’t talk anymore, the words jumbling up without meaning. He took her mouth in a wild kiss and scraped her hard against him.

So many occasions, every day, anyplace they happened to be. His mind spun with possibilities. He liked games, and this one he’d never tire of.

It took all his strength to press her away. If he didn’t end this now, he truly would have her on the floor, or maybe straddling him on the convenient straight-backed chair. Both ways. He’d take her all night and not tire. He kissed her forehead, not hearing whatever it was she was saying. He wished he had Mac’s charm, so he could .find the right words to thank her, to propose another tryst, to continue the play. Instead Ian cupped her face in- his hands and gave her another kiss on the mouth. “I said, will you send another message through the very useful Curry?” she asked.

“Yes.” How easy it was to be with her, when she answered questions so he didn’t have to. “That will do.” He retrieved his coat, thrusting his collar and tie into the pocket, and turned for one last look.

Beth stood upright in the middle of the room, where he’d found her when he’d first stormed in. Now her dress gaped to her throat to expose the dull red mark he’d left on her skin. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips swollen with his kisses. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Good night,” she whispered.

He made himself turn away and thrust open the doors, ignoring the footman and Katie, who suddenly scuttled away down the hall. He snatched hat, gloves, and scarf from hooks in the foyer and banged out of the house before he could give in to temptation and stay.

He would soon arrange it so he never had to leave. He’d marry her for a very basic reason: to have her with him every night, every day, every afternoon, and every time in between. He walked down the boulevard, something in him awakening and breaking free.

The night had turned foggy, which only enhanced Ian’s ability to hear the footsteps that turned and followed him as he moved off down the avenue.

Sleep was impossible. Beth paced her bedchamber far into the night, wrapped in a dressing gown. She found herself unable to return to her journal or to go to bed. The events were too fresh to write about, and anytime she tried, her trembling hand spilled ink all over her journal pages. She kept her dressing gown closed to her throat, though every so often, she’d stop in front of the mirror and ease it open. The red mark Ian had left stood out stark against her skin, almost a bruise, though not quite. Some of the game girls who’d come to the workhouse had had such marks, had laughed at Beth when she asked about them in concern. Beth pressed her hand against the love bite. She’d had no idea why anyone would want to do such a thing. Now she remembered the warm tingle in her veins when his breath touched her throat, the throbbing of her opening when his teeth closed on her neck. His hair had touched her chin, warm and soft and smelling of soap.