“Then don’t.” She took his granite-hard jaw in her hands. “And I won’t let you go either.”
She felt a tremor go through him. Then he snatched her into his arms, slamming his mouth onto hers with fierce possession.
25
Kissing Livy drove Ben mad with desire on a normal day. Following her unconditional acceptance of his flaws, the taste and feel of her made him feel like a starved beast. Her plush mouth was bliss against his own, and he knew there was more to savor. He licked her seam, and her instant parting of her lips injected steel into his cock. He drove his tongue inside, laying claim to her honeyed cove, her moan setting off a howl of need inside him.
The urge to back her into a wall, toss up her skirts, and sheath himself inside her tight pussy nearly overwhelmed him, as if he were a greenling randy for his first wench. He wasn’t that inexperienced boy any longer, however—hadn’t been for over a decade. When it came to his sexual history, he had plenty of regrets; the one thing he was glad for was that experience had taught him self-control.
Before Livy, he’d enjoyed dominance. With Livy, he craved it. Her surrender wasn’t just a game for an evening or a whim to indulge: it was an act of love and trust. When she melted for him, her sweetness filled the cracks of his parched soul. His spirited little queen submitted to him and him alone…and this made him harder than a steel pike.
He lifted her into his arms. She felt like thistledown, her soft smallness arousing him. Clutching his shoulders, she stared at him with lust-glazed eyes as he carried her into his bedchamber. He set her down by the foot of the bed. Turning her so that she faced the bedpost, he wrapped her fingers around the dark pole.
Standing behind her, he said in her ear, “Hold on for balance while I undress you.”
“Yes, Ben,” she said breathily.
“I like hearing you say my name.” He swept her long curls off her nape, planting a kiss there, relishing her shiver of response. “Tell me, were you a good girl for me last night?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hearing her embarrassment, he smiled to himself. He had no problem with her indulging in a bit of self-play; indeed, he planned to watch her doing it someday. Yet he also knew that keeping his naughty miss on edge would deepen the pleasure, for both of them.
“Then you shall have a reward, as promised,” he said.
He started working on the pearl buttons along the back of her gown, stirred by their delicate tenacity and the enchanting, precise moment when they popped free of their silken loops. He wanted Livy to come undone for him. Wanted it as badly as he wanted to tenderly put her together again afterward. The possessiveness he felt for her was matched only by his protectiveness. He alone would play with his wanton miss, and he would never, ever allow her to get hurt.
Even tonight, he would not do anything irrevocable. He would not take her maidenhead until his ring was upon her finger. She was so damned precious, and he would not dishonor her trust in him. And knowing that he was about to embark on a perilous mission, that it might be weeks before he held her in his arms again, he was determined to make tonight one that they would dream about when they were apart.
Livy’s gown whispered to the ground, and his blood heated at the sight of her in her unmentionables. They were crisply modest, white linen edged with the finest lace. He expertly released her petticoats and started loosening her corset strings.
“I like undressing you,” he murmured.
She twisted her head, raising her brows at him. “You are remarkably practiced at it.”
“Enough sauce from you, little brat.” He tugged on the strings for her impudence, just enough to make her breathless, the way he liked her. “You need someone older and more experienced to keep you in hand. You would run roughshod over some namby-pamby chap like Sheffield.”
“Beg pardon.” She gave him a coquettish look. “Who is Sheffield again?”
“Now you’re learning,” he said with approval. “Turn around and arms up, sweeting.”
She did as he asked, and he pulled her chemise over her head. His lungs strained as he saw her bare for the first time. He’d never seen anything half as erotic as Livy, bashful and blushing all over. Her exquisite breasts heaved, her thighs squeezing together above the shell-pink stockings he decided then and there to leave on. And between her legs was the prettiest little pussy he’d ever beheld.
When she tried to cross her arms over her breasts, he stopped her. Maneuvering her back against the bedpost, he placed her hands above her head, curving her fingers around the grooved wood.
“Stay like that,” he told her.
“This is rather immodest.” Roses bloomed in her cheeks, but she didn’t move.
“When you are with me, you have no need for modesty.” He tipped her chin up, looking into her beautifully discomfited eyes. “I want nothing between us, not even clothing. And you have nothing to hide.” His voice thickened as he swept his gaze over her nubile form. “By Jove, you are a goddess, and I mean to worship at your temple.”
He kissed her again. Plundered her mouth until she was panting, squirming against the bedpost. He winnowed out pleasure from her sensitive spots, flicking her earlobe with his tongue, sampling the silken column of her neck. He palmed her breasts, appreciating their rounded heft. She gasped as he thumbed the stiffened pink tips.
“Do you like it when I pet your tits, love?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Would you like me to kiss them?” He chuckled at her expression: a bit surprised, mostly intrigued. “I think you would.”
Bending his head, he dropped a
