Page 78 of Barbarous

Her breasts were swelling with quick, shallow breaths and she fastened her hot blue eyes on the deep V of his shirt. Hugh watched until she became aware of his scrutiny. She stared directly at him—into him.

He reached over his head and seized his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. He expected she’d be looking at his scarred shoulders and chest, but she was looking down, her attention arrested by his distended breeches. She’d gone utterly still.

Hugh smiled. “Breathe, darling.”

Her eyes darted up and narrowed.

Hugh had begun this slow stripping because he wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a naked male body and hadn’t wanted to frighten or repulse her. But now he was thoroughly enjoying the tension that filled the room with each garment he removed.

He brushed a hand across his chest and her eye followed it like a cat tracking its prey. He lowered the hand slowly, sliding it over his abdomen and pushing the tips of his fingers beneath the slick warm satin. He stroked his belly from left to right, drinking in her rapt gaze and harsh breathing. He unhooked the small catches that held his fall in place and paused to shift his pounding organ to one side, reveling in the effect the gesture had on her bodice, even if it did not offer any relief to him.

Hugh worked the six buttons of his fall with the speed of a man who was paid by the hour. By the time he reached the last button, she was leaning so far over she was in danger of toppling off the bed and he was in danger of exploding.

Hugh bent low to push down breeches and small clothes together and then stood.

She was perfectly still, her gaze fastened on his aroused organ, the slight parting of her lips causing his cock to twitch wildly.

She gasped. “Are you doing that?”

Hugh considered asking her who else it might be, but dismissed the teasing thought when she reached for him. At which point Hugh’s erection took control of his body and yanked the rest of him toward her.

Her smooth, cool hand closed with promising firmness around his girth.

“Guh,” was all Hugh could manage.

Her brows arched and she wore the same serious look on her face as when she was reading a German philosophy tome. She stroked up and down his shaft, her motions measured and confident; his entire body thrummed.

“Is this nice?”

Hugh found his voice—although not the same one he usually used. “Nice would not be my first word of choice.”

Her lips curved into a smile he’d only fantasized about seeing on her beautiful face.

“You like this.” It was not a question. Her hand tightened and swirled the head of his cock.

“Ah God, Daphne!” He hissed in a breath, every nerve on fire, his body already primed to thrust and thrust and spend. Hugh reached down and gently removed her hand; it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.

Her eyebrows rose and he gave her a strained smile.

“It has been some time since my cock has made the, er, acquaintance of a woman.”

Daphne blinked at the vulgar word and Hugh reminded himself he was bedding a lady.

He took her other hand and lifted her to her feet. “I should hate to end things so . . . abruptly.” She still looked adorably confused. “Besides, it is my turn, Daphne.”

“Your turn?”

“Mmm-hmm, my turn. You’ve seen me.” He felt his lips curve. “You’ve touched me. Now I want to see . . . and touch, you. Would you like to strip for me, or shall I undress you?” Hugh found either option deeply arousing.

She hesitated only a moment. “I would like you to undress me.”

A choir seemed to be singing somewhere inside his skull as Hugh pulled her close and turned her in his arms, his entire body throbbing as she submitted to his ministrations.

She bent her head to allow him access to her gown and he lowered his lips over the vulnerable ridge of spine, reveling in her swift intake of breath as he mouthed the curvature of her arched neck, kissing the bruised, scratched skin that had been savaged by Hastings, laving her with languorous strokes. His cock pulsed dangerously and Hugh forced himself to stop.

Savoring her sweet, salty taste, he turned to buttons not made for hands his size. As his fingers brushed her skin, she shivered, leaning into his touch. The smooth silk of her gown rubbed against the hot, sensitive skin of his erection. His inflamed brain encouraged him to rip the dress off but he worked with calm diligence until the last button was open, smiling to himself when the garment slipped but, miraculously, did not fall.

He left the gown for the moment and turned to her hair, removing a remarkable number of pins before he could unbind the heavy rope, raking it with his fingers until a froth of blond curls fell to her waist and tickled the head of his cock.