Page 71 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

“That’s it, darling,” Jonathan cajoled. “Come for me.”

Hips bucking, and thighs quivering on either side of his head, she shoved his face back to her quim. Luckily, his wicked mouth continued performing very wicked deeds.

Her heels tingled, and her toes curled involuntarily. “Jonathan!” She ground her cunny against his mouth.

And then her tight ball exploded into a thousand shiny sparks. The sparks hovered before changing direction to join her corporeal body.

She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her, smiling, his lips slick with her desire.

“That was beyond beautiful,” he said.

So magical and very erotic.

Jonathan gently tugged her mushy-limbed body up the mattress until their heads rested on the pillows. She was quite groggy, so she melted into the mattress as he tucked the blankets around her and cradled her close.

“I love you so damn much, Genevieve,” he murmured against her cheek.

Her back to his torso, she snuggled up against him, closed her eyes, and whispered, “I love you too, Jonathan. To the stars and back.”

*

Genevieve blinked herselfawake. Since the sunlight wasn’t yet peeking above the draperies, she suspected it was still the middle of the night. The dying embers cast just enough light for her to make out the shape beside her. He moved, and his fingers brushed her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You are awake,” Jonathan said.

Barely. She stretched like a sated cat. “I was having lovely dreams.”

“You were? Tell me about them.”

She rolled onto her side to face him. Their breaths mingled as she ran her finger over his normally closely shaven jaw. While they’d slept, scruff had grown in. How utterly fascinating and so very virile. She traced his soft lips as he kissed her fingertips.

“I dreamt we were still kissing,” she said.

“Hell’s bells. I don’t want to disappoint you.” He pounced, rolling her onto her back and pinning her to the mattress. His scorching hands and mouth were everywhere—her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders… Soft lips brushed her nipple, which peaked in anticipation.

Hopefully, this was the part where he explored and suckled her breasts. She cradled his head, fingering his waves.

He licked a circle around her areola, then took the sensitive tip into his mouth and sucked. The tug sent an exhilarating zing through her core. He flicked his tongue over her nipple half a dozen times. Moaning, she arched her bosom upward, begging for more.

“Perfection,” he murmured against her skin.

He licked a path to her other breast as his fingers danced down her torso, and along her hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him so close that their bodies were one.

His touch skimmed lower, tracing her folds so gently that it was as if feathers were teasing her mound. “Are you sore?” he asked. “From my feasting?”

Sore? Hardly. Craving more? Most definitely.

“I’m not sore at all.” She sighed. “Coach Valentine said that we are not to engage in sexual congress for a week before a mill. Something about keeping the legs strong and the body disciplined. So perhaps we should get in as much as we can over the next few hours.” She parted her thighs, inviting him in.

“Well, then we best make the most of our evening.” Accepting the invitation, he easily slid his finger into her wet passage. “Good God, Genevieve.” With his other hand, he guided her palm to his arousal. “Feel what you do to me.”

She wrapped her hand around his girth. “’Tis so hard.” Like a steel rod covered with silky flesh.

“Better to tup you with,” he said with a chuckle.

Together, they pressed his tip to her opening. “Tell me if it hurts, my darling Blue,” he said in that deep rumble that vibrated low in her belly.

There was no way that penetration could hurt more than the ache consuming her. She lifted her hips, searching… inviting… welcoming.