The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie(50)
Beth moaned deep in her throat. “Please, Ian.”
“Please stop?” he murmured, excitement gripping him.
“No.”
He smiled into her lips. “Please what, Beth? What do you want me to do?”
“You know.”
“I am not good at hints. You have to tell me straight out.”
“You’re teasing me now.”
Ian licked her mouth. “You like being teased. You like ducking into private rooms with me and pulling up your skirts when I tell you.”
“Is that what you call teasing?”
“You like fellatio and cunnilingus.”
“I do, truth be told. I’d never done either before.” “No?” he murmured. “I thought you a woman of the world.”
“I thought I was rather clumsy at it.”
“You were beautiful. You are beautiful now.” She bit her lip, making it red and enticing. Shy Beth, blushing while he lay naked on top of her. She always filled him with laughter.
“Please, Ian,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”
His entire body tightened. “Yes.”
He was too big. It had been nine years since a man had entered her, and she was too tight. She couldn’t take it.
Ian groaned softly as he pushed all the way in. He took a long breath, his chest pressing hers. He wouldn’t look at her, turning his head so Beth stared directly at his cheekbone and rain-wet hair slicked to his skull.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” He thrust once. “Good.”
Beth squeezed her eyes shut as he thrust again. The thickness of him pushed so deep inside her she thought it would tear her apart.
And it felt good.
“Ian,” she groaned. “I am wicked. I’m a wicked, sinful woman, and I don’t want you to ever stop.”
Ian didn’t answer. He moved slowly inside her, thick and hard. Deeper, faster. Please.
She rocked her hips up as he came down. He held himself up on one hand while he fisted her hair in his other. He tickled the ends of her hair along her breasts, and her overly sensitive nipples rose and tightened.He leaned down and licked one areola, teasing the point into his mouth. She watched his teeth play, his tongue swirl over the nipple, the pink skin rising into his mouth. He closed his eyes as though he were savoring some rich dish, his lashes soft points against his cheeks.
Beth ached where they joined. The friction burned on her petals too long untouched, fire that made her want to open her legs wide. She did, sliding her feet on the covers, letting her hips arch upward.
“Do you feel it?” Ian asked.
A dozen phrases went through Beth’s head, but she gasped out, “Yes.”
“Your cunny is tight, my Beth. Squeezing me so hard.”
He smiled when he said it, feral and raw.
No man had ever done bawdy talk with her. Game girls had told her of it, but she’d never dreamed she’d hear it hot in her ear, spoken by a beautiful man.
“Squeeze me some more, love,” he murmured. “You feel so damn good.”
“Good,” Beth echoed. She tightened her muscles, and he groaned.
He felt good. All thick and hard and moving inside her. She tried to tell him, to give him bawdy talk in return, but she couldn’t form words.
“I wanted you in Covent Garden,” he said. “I wanted you straddling me in the dark while I came up inside you.” “In the theatre?”
“Right there in the damn box, with the opera blaring on. I’d take you, make you my own.” He put his hand on her neck over the spot where he’d given her the love bite. “I branded you.”
Beth smiled. “You, too.” She touched his neck. “I branded you.”
He laced his fingers hard through hers and pressed her hand to the bed. “Belong to me.”
“No one here to dispute that at the moment.” “Always mine. Always, Beth.” Thrusts punctuated the words.
Always. Her body jerked in rhythm with his, the bed creaking. It was a solid bed, thick mahogany, made to take men like Ian loving thejr women.
She was his lover. Beth laughed for the delight of it. Being with Ian was decidedly unrespectable, and she felt freer than she’d ever felt in her life. Under him, she could spread her wings.
Beth laughed again. She was spreading herself as far as she could. Ian’s eyes were closed, his face twisted in pleasure. His thrusts accelerated, his hips pounding as if it were the last coupling he’d ever have.
He drove her into the mattress, his body heavy on hers, his sweat dripping onto her skin. Rain streamed against the windows, and a boom of thunder swallowed Beth’s sudden cry of ecstasy.
Ian shouted, not waiting for thunder. Lightning flared, bathing the room in white. The light outlined lan’s body, his sharp-lined face, burning his hair red. In that moment, Ian opened his eyes, like twin suns coming into view, and let his gaze directly meet Beth’s.