Niall Lindsey, the Earl of Margrave, is forced to flee after killing a man in a duel, and he expects his secret love, Brilliana Trevor, to go with him, or at the very least wait for him. To his shock, she does neither and sends him off with no promise for the future.
Forced to marry another man after Niall was exiled, the now widowed Brilliana wants nothing to do with the reckless rogue who she believes abandoned her to a dreary, loveless life. But, after being reunited, she finds it impossible to deny the pleasures of their renewed passion.
From The Pleasures of Passion by Sabrina Jeffries, book 4 in her Sinful Suitors series. (Pocket Books, On Sale June 20)
With firm purpose, he walked her backward toward an apple tree. “Because right now I want only one thing—to make love to you. To remind you that there are things between us that transcend the past. I know how to make you yearn and burn. I know how to give you pleasure.” He lowered his voice to a harsh rasp. “And you want me to. You know that you do.”
When she swallowed hard, he exulted. She wasn’t as immune to him as she tried to pretend.
“I-I said, no bed play.”
“I see no bed.”
She eyed him askance. “You’re splitting hairs, you devil. You knew what I meant.” When he pressed her up against the tree, she lifted her eyes heavenward. “What is it with you and trees, anyway? My maid still hasn’t worked the stains out of the last gown you ruined. And why must we do this here, where anyone might find us?”
“Because we can,” he rasped against her lips. “Because we want to. Because I own every inch of this land, and I want to take you in the place where I mean for us to build a life together.” He dragged up her skirts. “I’ll buy you a new gown, sweeting. But all these apples hanging from the trees are making me hunger for something sweet, and I simply have to indulge.”
Even her look of confusion bewitched him. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
He dropped to his knees. “You, Bree. I want to feast on you.”
Holding her skirts bunched up at her waist with one hand, he used the other to part the opening in her drawers so he could view the lovely flesh he meant to kiss and devour. He suspected that her stodgy husband had never done this to her, and when he leaned forward to place his mouth on her and she gasped, he knew he’d guessed right.
“What the devil are you . . .” She released a shaky sigh as he licked her pretty mons, then delved deeper with his tongue. “Oh . . . my . . . word.”
God, she was as luscious and juicy as ripe fruit. He could dine on Bree for hours. Or at least long enough to show her that there was so much more to making love than her arse of a husband had shown her.
“Hold this.” He thrust her gathered skirts into her hand, and miraculously, she did his bidding.
Then he set about giving her delicious honeypot the attention it deserved. He’d always loved the taste of a woman fully aroused, but God, Bree tasted better than anything. And she was so receptive, too, clutching at his head to hold him to her as she pushed her cleft against his tongue.
“Niall . . . heavens . . . that is so . . . so . . . naughty.”
“For my naughty wanton, yes.” He licked and teased and tormented, relishing her sighs and moans and eager little thrusts of her pelvis against his mouth. “I love when you’re naughty, sweeting.”
He thrust a finger inside her, and she murmured a soft, “How marvelous . . .” that shot his arousal to new heights. He didn’t know how he’d control himself until he’d brought her to release.
But he must. Because he refused to be the sort of selfish lover she was used to. He intended to make her blood race and her head spin, to make her forget about anything but how this felt, how they felt together.
It was the only way he could think of to reassure her that they would make a good match. That they could start again. Together. No matter what secrets he had to continue keeping.
She was panting now, little mewling sounds that turned him harder than the trunk she leaned against. Feeling the blood rising in his cock, he increased the strokes of his tongue across her hard little pearl as he drove into her with one finger, then two, in his desperate bid to bring her to le petit mort.
Soon she was shimmying and pushing against him like a greedy urchin eager for more, until he could hear her moaning and feel the spasms signaling her release against his tongue.
It was all he could do not to crow his triumph as she pulled him hard against her and let out a low cry of pleasure. At least he could make her feel this, damn it. Perhaps for now, that would be enough for her.
As she gasped and shuddered, he relished the taste and smell of her as he brushed kisses to her bared thighs, smoothed his hands over her silk-clad calves . . . indulged himself in the glory that was Bree’s body.
*****Contest is closed! Mollie W. is the winner and I have sent her an email.
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