Page 100 of Gone with the Rake

Her gaze was locked onto his chest as if caught in a passion-filled daze. Her breaths were shallow, her words reduced to single-syllable questions.

It was safe to assume she was just as hungry for him as he was for her.

His hands moved to his breeches, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. He paused, then, with deliberate slowness, began working on the buttons.

Before he could finish, Lydia pulled her nightgown over her head, letting it drop to the floor. Completely bare, she stepped toward him, took his face between her palms, and kissed him.

Art chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. She slid her arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. A pleasure-filled groan ripped from his soul.

Taking advantage, Lydia slipped her tongue inside his mouth, teasing, taunting.

She broke the kiss, their breathing labored. Then, she kissed him lightly again. “Remove your breeches now,” she commanded and then tugged on his lower lip with her teeth.

He grinned. “I see my passionate vixen from the masquerade is back.”

She kissed his neck, then licked her way down his chest. Her warm hands, her wet tongue, the combination of her movements and her little sounds sent him into a frenzy. His cock, erect and swollen, strained against his breeches.

Sweat lining his forehead and running down his back, Art struggled with the buttons on his falls, trying to unsuccessfully free his cock.

Lydia reached his belly button. Then she lowered herself to her knees and raised her eyes to him. Art watched her from beneath his hooded eyelids, the vision of her on her knees in front of him almost sent him to his knees himself.

She lowered her hands and in one swift motion undid the last of the buttons on his falls. His breeches plopped down, freeing his cock.

Without breaking their eye contact, Lydia licked her lips.

Fuck.

His cock jumped.

Lydia smiled and took him in hand. She gasped, her eyes now on his cock, her entire attention devoted to the shaft squeezed between her hands.

It swelled under her touch so much, he was afraid it would burst. She ran her hand up and down his length, then ran a thumb over his tip, marveling at the little drop of pleasure that seeped from his core.

Art plunged his fingers into her fiery hair, massaging her scalp.

“Hmm…” she moaned, then she dipped her head and licked his length.

Art threw back his head with a groan. This was a sweet torture. She glanced up at him with a wicked smile, then ducked her head and licked him again.

“You vixen,” he murmured.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispered. “What do you want?”

Art looked into her golden-brown eyes and licked his lips. “Take me. Take me into your sweet mouth.”

Her smile widened as she licked the top of his cock before covering his tip with her mouth. She lowered her head, taking more of him in, and suckled lightly.

Art tightened his grip on her hair and guided her down his length. “Yes, my love,” he muttered, “just like that.”

The soothing heat of her mouth and the shy motion of her sweet, wet tongue sent every nerve of his body into a spin. His hips jerked, stuffing her mouth with more of him, and she moaned in delight. Her hands were circling him at his base, stroking him slightly.

“Squeeze me,” he gritted between his teeth. “Squeeze me harder.”

And she did. At the same time, she lowered her head, taking in more of him, then returned to just encircling his tip.

Art groaned, his fingers fisting her hair and forcing her down the length again. She gladly took more of him, moaning, moving in agitation. Her hips moved together with her tongue, her sweet bottom bared to his view. He wished to trace the curve of her buttocks, grip her soft flesh, delve between the intimate hair hiding her feminine delights, and plunge his fingers inside her core.

Just as he thought that, Lydia placed her tongue under his tip and sucked. Hard.