Page 96 of The Boxing Baroness

Dominic had been selfish, greedy, and immoral, but he had, at least, given Marianne a great deal of pleasure in bed.

He had also taught her a great deal about giving pleasure during their brief faux marriage.

She swallowed, earning a guttural groan, and then slowly drew off.

“God. Marianne.”

Marianne worked him in earnest, the memory of what Dominic had taught her coming back—muscle memory—and for once without the attendant shame.

His body jolted and stiffened.

Before she realized what he was doing, he leaned down, slid his hands beneath her upper arms, and lifted her to her feet.

She gave him a quizzical look when he pushed her onto the bed.

He cupped her jaw with firm but gentle fingers. “Lie back, sweetheart,” he said, straddling her body on his hands and knees as she lowered her head to the pillow.

Marianne’s belly clenched at the endearment. Never would she have believed such a sweet word and tender tone could come from such a severe mouth.

He pushed up onto his knees, towering over her and affording her a glorious view. She’d spent the last few years around some of the fittest men in Britain, but never had she seen such a beautiful, elegant body. He lacked the bulk of a professional pug, but he was hard and sculpted and perfect.

He rubbed his hand over her belly, an odd smile curving his mouth.

“What does that look mean?” she asked, her gaze dropping to his jutting cock as she stretched out her hands to stroke from his knees up his thighs, rough springy hairs giving way to smooth hairless skin.

“It means I’m happy.” He smiled in earnest, the action exposing a dimple on his right side, making her realize she’d never seen such an open—yes, happy—expression on his face.

His big, warm hands slid to her breasts and Marianne whimpered encouragement.

“Good?” he murmured, his clever fingers plucking and tweaking her already hard nipples.

She could only nod, arching her back for more.

And then he took her in his mouth and all rational thought fled.

* * *

As delicious as she’d felt and looked wrapped around his shaft, Sin couldn’t last a minute longer without touching and exploring her.

Having her stretched out before him, a feast for his greedy eyes, was even better than the filthy dreams that had plagued him night after night.

Her lean, strong body bucked helplessly as he suckled her sweet little breasts. He pulled away from one taut nipple with a nip that made her whine. “Sensitive?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

She growled and caught his head in a firm grip to pull him back down.

While he pleasured her with his mouth, his hands found their own diversion, one stroking the firm lines of her waist and compactly muscled hips while the other found its way between her thighs.

She opened for him without hesitation, and it was his turn to growl when he slid his fingers into her curls.

He looked up from his labor of love as he stroked between her slick, swollen lips. “Is this for me, Marianne?” he teased, lightly pinching her engorged bud between two fingers.

She pushed her hips against his hand. “Please—don’t torture me . . . you can do that later.”

Sin laughed.

“Right now, I want you.” She shuddered. “Need you inside me. Please.”

Her plea—desperate and raw—was the most sensual thing a lover had ever said to him. Sin pushed her knees wider and took his shaft in his hand, lowering his hips until he could stroke the wet petals of her sex with his crown.