Page 6 of The Devil’s Submission

Devil started to reply with something false, something polite. But he was so goddamned weary of false and polite. “That nightgown is too small.”

Her face fell. “I-I know. Mother says I’m too big, that if I just lost some weight…”

“Why the hell would you want to do that? Damnation, Eliza, it’s not your weight, it’s your fucking perfect breasts straining against the fabric. I was hard all night looking at that little bow, thinking how easy it would be to undo so I could take one of your nipples into my mouth and suck it until it was so swollen, so sensitive, you screamed.”

Eliza’s eyes widened, her cheeks pink. “Why…why didn’t you?”

Because I want you to tell me to. To order me to pleasure you, like that time in your parents’ garden maze. One of the few nights I felt free…

“You were asleep,” he said eventually, looking away and feeling like a damned idiot. Sin and Vice, not to mention most other men in his acquaintance, would laugh themselves catatonic if they knew about this need in him. God knew Reyburn had tried to beat the softness and weakness out after it had fully manifested in his last year at Eton, even requesting the masters never spare the cane. His younger son finding pleasure in pain was definitely a result the marquess neither expected nor wanted.

Warm lips brushed his cheek, and Devil jolted in surprise. Eliza’s face was almost crimson now, but her gaze was defiant. Would she dare?

A moment later she sank down onto his lap, cupped his cheek in her free hand, and kissed him squarely on the mouth. It was a swift kiss, a chaste one, yet heat scorched a path from his lips to his cock.

“Grayson,” she whispered, her soft lips brushing his ear. “Kiss me back.”

With a guttural groan he pulled her close and captured her mouth with his. She whimpered, but she wasn’t pulling away or flinching at his need. She was holding on and rubbing her breasts against his chest.

“Eliza,” he said hoarsely, when he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“Do it.” She tugged on the bow of her nightgown so hard it tore and revealed the curves of her plump breasts. “Do what you said you wanted to last night.”

Transfixed, he lowered his head toward the bounty in front of him. “Your wish is my command.”

…

She’d been bold. Bolder than she’d been in months, and heavens, what a reward.

Around and around, up and down, Grayson’s lips were trailing across her breasts, his tongue a hot lash against her aching nipples. It felt so good all she could do was moan his name, and yet it wasn’t nearly enough. “Suck me,” she breathed.

He raised his head. “Beg pardon?”

“Suck me,” she said, a bit louder, squirming in Grayson’s lap when his hand rubbed slow circles against her lower back.

“Still can’t hear you. Lizzie,” he replied, his eyes so bright with uncharacteristic mischief, Eliza swallowed hard against an overwhelming rush of topsy-turvy emotion.

Grayson had first called her Lizzie the night in the Brimley Park maze. And continued to while their marriage worked. He was the only person in the world who had ever called her by a nickname, though she’d scolded him a thousand times for it: The Delightful, Decorous, and Demure ladies of the Brimley Finishing Academy simply did not stand for shenanigans with their names, or any other such social informalities. “Grayson…”

“Hmmm?” he said, circling her areola with the tip of his tongue.

Almost panting with need, all thoughts of proper behavior fleeing her mind, she cupped the back of his head and pushed it closer to her breast.

“Suck my nipples,” she said fiercely. “Suck them hard…oh God, yes, just like that.”

Every draw of Grayson’s lips, every nip of his teeth sent an incredible jolt of heat straight to her core. Eliza writhed on his lap, almost insensible with pleasure. Between her legs she could feel the thick length of his erection nudging her, and she moaned as she ground herself against it.

“What else?” he gasped, the scorching hot lust in his eyes almost making her orgasm on the spot. “Tell me what else, Lizzie.”

“Make me come.”

He made a growling sound, his erection jerking hard against her. “You want me to rub your clit? Fill your pussy with my cock?”

“Both. Oh please, I want—”

They both froze as sharp knocks pounded on the chamber door, the wood creaking slightly as it swung open and a heavy footfall marched into the room. Thanks to the bathing screen, they were hidden from view.

“Devil. What the fuck are you doing?” yelled a man in a very familiar Scottish brogue. “The carriage is leaving in five…Devil? Are you in here?”