Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tuck wasn’t reckless, and he wasn’t stupid. But with Lizzy in his arms, all bets were off; neither of them could be content

with just a kiss, not anymore. The countdown that began ticking at their first meeting was running out. She wrapped her hand

around the back of his neck and he sank deeper into her mouth—invisible currents surged as if ley lines ran through his veins.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he murmured into her hungry lips.

“You could surprise me.” Her gasp was hot on his skin.

“I’m serious. I need to know how far you want to take this.”

She gripped him harder, her nails scratching gently at his skin. “There are too many decisions to be made and plans to figure

out. I don’t want to do that here, not now. You understand lovemaking. I don’t.” Her voice softened, growing almost shy. “So

rather than me asking for what I think I want, why don’t you give me what you believe I need?”

He smoothed a loose strand of hair off her damp cheek. “You want me to take the lead.”

“Please.”

“All right, then. We’re getting into some trouble.” He traced the skin beneath her jaw with slow, lazy circles. “Good trouble.”

“More.” She wiggled closer.

“You trying to tell me what to do?” He cocked a teasing brow. “Just for that, I’m going to go even slower.”

He edged his fingers over the delicate ridge of her clavicle, inch by unhurried inch, traveling toward the swell of her breast.

As her breathing hitched, turning into uneven pants, he slowed down even further.

“You love it when I touch you.”

She opened her mouth to reply and he nipped her lower lip. “That wasn’t a question.” Her hips jerked as he slid his palm down,

capturing the weight of her breast. With a thumb, he teased her nipple, growling when it peaked even through the layers of

fabric. “And you like that.”

A hitched gasp.

“Good girl.”

Something indigo and intoxicated entered her eyes, making her gaze go unfocused and hazy. The only sound in the room was their

ragged breathing.

“Let’s get you out of this dress.”

It wasn’t quick work. She came in layers, the final one was a long white slip. Once he’d slid that off, she wore nothing but

a half-corset and stockings held in place by pale blue garters.

Time slowed down as he took in her body. The flare of her hips. The dark triangle of hair. The subtle quiver of her thighs.

Her hands fluttered as if she fought an urge to cover herself. So shy.

“Don’t hide.” His voice was hoarse. “Remember how I kissed you in Scotland, slid my tongue across that sweet pussy?”

Her pupils were so wide they threatened to eclipse the blue.

“I’m going to get another taste. I’m tasting everything today.” He ran a hand over the front of his pants, stroking himself

for a moment. “Fuck. I’m hard. I’m always hard for you.”

Her sharp intake of breath was his reward.

“Your little sounds make me want to do bad things. Climb on the bed.”

She obeyed quickly, pushing to the center of the mattress and leaning back on her hands.

“Spread your legs.”

She opened them a fraction.

“Wider,” he ordered.

She bit her bottom lip, but complied.

“Just like that,” he rumbled, nodding his approval. “Do you feel exposed?”

“Very.”

“Focus on how that feels—the air on that sensitive skin.” He climbed over her and nipped her neck before licking the spot

with the flat of his tongue. “Where am I going to touch you first?” He sat back, took her ankle, and brought it up to his

shoulder, caressing a hand along her silk-clad calf until he reached her garter and, with a single tug, undid the ribbon.

As he rolled the stocking down, there was virtually no difference between the texture of the stocking and the feel of her

skin. “You’re so soft.” He turned to press a kiss to the side of her leg before mirroring the action on her opposite side.

With her legs propped on his shoulders, he reached down. “You know what I’m going to do now?”

Her lashes fluttered, her “No” so soft as to almost not exist.

“I’m going to open you like a present.” He reached down and got to work unhooking her short corset until she was naked, her

full breasts tapering into dusky nipples.

Fuck. He could barely breathe, let alone think straight. But he had to remain in control. “Stay still for me. Can you do that?”

She gave a little nod, lips parted, her features slack.

“I want to hear you promise.”

“I promise.”

He bent, his tongue circling her nipple, and she bowed, back arching.

He pulled back with a mock scolding. “I told you to stay still.”

She half laughed, half bared her teeth. “But you want to torture me.”

“Only in the best of ways. You said you wanted me calling the shots. You’re still good with that plan?”

“I must be a masochist.”

“Nah. Look at you. You’re greedy for pleasure.” He bent low again, pausing before taking her hard nipple back into his mouth

and laving the peak. “But don’t worry, I’m going to let you move later. For now, though, I want you to hold still, keep every

ounce of that busy brain focused on me.”

“Why?” Her eyes were glazed.

“Because you’re mine, and you’re never forgetting that.” And he sucked. Hard.

This time she held still. God—he loved that this woman would and could do damn well whatever she pleased, and right here and

now, it pleased her to trust him. He wanted her to concentrate and quiet her mind because when he began to level up, it would

be more pleasurable if she was fully present.

Normally he liked to check in on a new lover. Ask questions. Do you like this? Harder? Faster? But this wasn’t a new lover. This was Lizzy. His Lizzy. All the focus he’d honed, he’d use here, now. Instead of tracking pucks, he tracked her breaths, her goose bumps, her

little moans, and her trembles. He wasn’t cautious or tentative with his strokes and explorations; he wanted her aching, tight,

and hot.

He worshiped her neck, the sensitive sides of her breasts, the inner curves of her arms, the soft span of her belly—and then he had his fingers at her center.

Slowly, he traced an outline around her triangle of hair, letting the soft satin of it caress his fingers. She was so wet

it sheened, but he still placed his fingers against her mouth.

“What?” Her brows crinkled.

“Suck,” he murmured. The sight of her taking his fingers into her mouth nearly sent him over the edge right there. There was

something so erotic, so perfectly fucking filthy about the sight.

“That’s it, work them over,” he panted. “Make them drip.”

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder. It was too good—shit. At this rate, they’d be over before they started.

He pulled his hand back and let a bead of saliva drip down his fingers to the hint of her inner lips, the pink petals just

visible. She shuddered as he began to circle in featherlight strokes, slick and steady, working until he found a rhythm that

made her teeth latch on her lower lip.

“I’m going to put a finger inside now. Help you adjust first.”

She fisted the blankets. He opened her with one hand, lifting her clit a fraction, pulling back the hood to heighten the sensation.

Then he dipped his middle finger in, pushing gently and holding, not far, only to where he could feel the ridges of her G-spot.

As she began to breathe again, he pressed in while using his thumb on her clitoris, crooking his finger in a come-hither gesture

as she pressed a hand to her mouth, moaning into her skin. She was so wet it was time for one more finger, then another. Her

stomach rose and fell in short heaves.

“You are doing such a good job holding still for me.” Her cheeks went as pink as peach blossoms. “But you want to move, don’t

you?”

“Please. Please.” She was begging now. “Please.”

“Let you move or get release?”

“Both. Everything. God, I don’t know. It’s good. So good.”

“Want to know what makes it even better?”

Her brows rose, gaze pleading.

Without breaking his rhythm, he dipped his mouth to her clit, humming with pleasure at her salty, needy taste. It would be

best for her to come once now, so she could be relaxed before he entered her. He sucked her clit, then lapped it. The rhythm

worked and it wasn’t long until she came like a tide, her inner waves crashing over his fingers as he continued to work her,

lighter now, ensuring she didn’t ebb too fast. He glanced up and her mouth was slack, a loose lock of hair stuck to one damp

cheek.

“That was impossible,” she murmured. “How was it so good?”

“Oh, babe.” He kissed her inner thigh. “We’re just getting started.”