He wanted, desired, needed so much more acutely. The intensity, the longing, the raw desire that infused his very soul was far beyond anything he’d previously known.
The only difference was love—that he’d confessed to loving her. And consequently, no longer needed to maintain the control he’d previously exercised over his deep-seated, unruly emotions.
His most powerful emotions.
Although he’d never consciously examined it, he’d innately known and had always recognized that love—true and pure, the sort of love he felt for Therese—was the greatest, most powerful emotion of them all.
All else bowed before it; that had been his principal reason for hiding it.
Tonight, he’d finally, irrevocably, traded his shield for all that love, an acknowledged love, could bestow. Until now—until the moment when he stood with Therese’s lips plundering his and the flames of passion licking over them both—he hadn’t realized that, in making that trade, he’d also surrendered control.
There was no way to halt the conflagration that seized them both. Not that he wished to, but even steering it, slowing or guiding it, was beyond him.
All he knew was the unquenchable desire to join with her. To love her in the fullest sense.
Driven, compelled, as need welled and urgency built, he felt just this side of possessed.
He divested her of her bodice, her skirts, and petticoats, allowing the garments to fall where they may. The feathered headdress tumbled from her hair, dislodged as he speared his fingers through the long, silken tresses, freeing them to lie in a rippling waterfall over her bared shoulders.
She seemed equally obsessed with stripping away his clothes. She yanked his cravat free and flung it aside, then fell on the buttons closing his shirt, all but ripping them free.
In short order, he shrugged off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, then hissed in a breath as her palms made contact with his chest. For long seconds, he clenched his jaw and let her sculpt and caress, then he hauled in a tortured breath, spun her around, and fell on her corset’s laces with the avidity of a man one tiny step from demented.
The last lace snapped beneath his fingers, and he stripped the stays away and sent them flying. Before she could turn, he reached around her, yanked the drawstring at the waist of her drawers loose, and sent the silky fabric slithering down her still-stockinged legs.
She stepped free of the pooling silk and spun to face him—and he caught the hem of her gossamer-fine chemise and hauled it off over her head. Obligingly, she raised her arms, but the instant she drew her hands free, she fell on the buttons closing his trousers. With quick, practiced flicks, she had them free.
Then her greedy little hands pushed past the gaping fabric and found him. He groaned as she wrapped her long fingers about his girth and artfully stroked, then claimed and possessed.
Jaw clenched, he tipped back his head as she played.
His lids had spontaneously fallen; he forced them up enough to look at her face.
What he saw there sent lust boiling through him, set passion pounding through his veins. She looked as fixated, as committed to the moment as the overriding compulsion so dramatically heightened by his declaration of love left him.
This was different; even in the torrid heat of the moment, he paid attention and took note. As she worked her hand and made him ache, the expression of devotion, her commitment to his pleasure, had never been so stark, so uncompromisingly clear. It seemed his declaration had opened a door to another plane of engagement. Another level of shared pleasure.
He gritted his teeth and endured…
Until he couldn’t deny the driving beat welling in his blood any longer.
Without disturbing her focus, he thrust his trousers down his thighs, and she helpfully adjusted her hold on him enough to allow him to dispense with his underdrawers.
He toed off his shoes and stepped free of the debris; she shifted with him, then before he could react, she sank to her knees and, with practiced alacrity, slid his throbbing member between her lips.
He froze, then clenched his jaw and tipped his head back again as, with a devotion impossible to mistake, with her lips and tongue and the hot heat of her mouth, she lavished pleasure upon him.
She was thorough, and he’d taught her well. With slow rasps and long licks punctuating the strong suction when she drew him deep, she pandered to his senses with wanton abandon. Helpless to deny her, he reached for her, threading his fingers through the thickness of her hair to cup her head as she steadily ratcheted his tension higher.
Tighter.
He let her play for as long as he dared, then forced himself to find balance enough to lift one foot, bending his leg and reaching back to strip off his sock. First one, then the other. He would need the purchase of bare feet on the polished boards for what he had in mind.
Once the soles of his feet were planted on the floor, he steadied himself, then dragging his senses from wallowing in the sensations engendered by her ministrations, he gathered every ounce of willpower he could summon. Hauling in a quick breath, he slid a thumb into the corner of her lips, releasing the mind-numbing suction she’d been so artfully applying, withdrew his turgid erection from her mouth and, in the same movement, crouched, splayed his hands over her hips, gripped and seized, and as he straightened, lifted her—not to her feet but high against his chest.
She uttered a surprised squeak, and as he settled fully upright, she instinctively draped her arms about his shoulders and, encouraged by his hold on her hips and upper thighs, wound her long, supple legs about his hips.
He gave himself a moment to drink in her expression—one reflecting as much heated need as he felt thrumming through him. In the golden lamplight, she stared down at him even as her breasts rose and fell inches from his face.
He smiled, intent yet teasing, deliberately letting all he was imagining show. She saw and understood, and her breath hitched, then resumed a touch faster. Just a tad shallower.
He held her gaze while he adjusted his hold, freeing one hand, then bent his head enough to extend his tongue and lick one distended ruby nipple.
Her breath shuddered out, and her lids fell.
Supporting her weight on one arm, with his other hand, he caressed one perfect globe of her derriere, then slid his fingers inward, between her widespread thighs, and found her softness gratifyingly wet and wanting.
For several seconds, he played, and she quivered in his arms.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Filling both hands with her hips, he adjusted their bodies until the head of his erection found her slick flesh. He pushed in, then tightened his grip and drew her down as he thrust home.
The sound that purled from her lips was half moan, half pleasured cry.
He raised her, then brought her firmly down, marveling at the heated clamp of her inner muscles around his rock-hard cock.
He wanted to slow and savor the sensation, but the urgency, the compulsion to have her, to take and possess, rose in an unstoppable wave and roared through him.
What followed was a barely controlled frenzy; he lifted her and thrust into her scalding heat, and she used her strong thighs to lever herself up and ride him, her inner muscles clamping and releasing, spurring him to ever more rapid and powerful thrusts. At one point, she caught his face between her hands and kissed him, initiating a searing exchange that whipped fire through them, relentlessly driving them on until their bodies were slick and their muscles were trembling, and they still hadn’t had enough of each other.