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СКАЧАТЬ froze. Did her every action reveal her character? He was still trying to decipher her identity, she was certain of it. Why? Why couldn’t he just discount her as another lightskirt?

      Because she wasn’t behaving like a lightskirt.

      But even if Swansborough guessed she wasn’t a jade, he thought her a fearless rescuer—he’d never realize she was Maryanne Hamilton, shy and retiring bookworm.

      “The only risk here,” he continued in a honeyed growl that spoke of sin and temptation, “is trust.”

      Trust! She couldn’t trust him—he was a notorious rake, a man so thoroughly debauched it was rumored he had never spent a night alone. He couldn’t trust her, after all—he didn’t even know who she really was. And she’d already dropped him into trouble. Marcus would have Lord Swansborough’s ballocks if he learned she’d surrendered her virginity.

      “You have the most luscious and tempting derriere.” Swansborough released her waist, grabbed the stays and dropped to his knees. The floor of the basket almost dropped out beneath her.

      “What are you doing?”

      Before her stomach stopped its flip-flops, she knew. A hot kiss teased the skin of her rump. Suspended in a balloon above Hyde Park, he kissed and licked the cheeks of her bottom.

      “You must stop.” Though she wanted him to do this forever. “We’ll fall.”

      The balloon dropped a little as if in answer.

      He stopped his kiss long enough to promise, “We are perfectly balanced, love.”

      She wished she could trust him on that. They rose again, and she went rigid. “How far will they let us go up?” With the startling view, she could see the threat of sunrise, the warm pink and gold of dawn just touching the horizon.

      Dawn. She would have to get home. Someone might come into her bedchamber and discover she had disappeared for the night.

      But she hadn’t found Georgiana. She couldn’t flee yet.

      She was high in the air in a balloon with Lord Swansborough. She couldn’t flee at all.

      She should stop him, but what did it matter now? Her barrier was broken and couldn’t be mended.

      “I’ve no idea how far they will let us go.” Hot, solid, lean, and long limbed, his body pressed along hers as he stood again. He used the fire to heat the air again, and they rose. Just as her heart lurched up with the balloon, his hand slid between their bodies. Something hot and hard bumped her bottom. His cock. She arched back, stroking her warm, naked rump against his length.

      His hand moved between her thighs, parting her hot nether lips. She was soaked still from their lovemaking, bubbling with her creamy juices and his.

      “I’m going to slide my cock into your snug cunny.”

      “But is this the correct…position?”

      “Ah, love, would you be willing to move into another one?”

      He was laughing at her, but she couldn’t resist joining him. “No.”

      Thick, hot, his cock slid between her legs, and she choked on her laugh. Good lord, he was enormous. He sawed the massive thing between her thighs, the broad head nosing through the lips, the shaft rubbing her aroused clit.

      “Go inside me,” she whispered. “I need you inside.”

      “Yes,” he groaned.

      In a burst of bravery, she let go of the basket and guided his cock into her. Her fingers barely closed around the full shaft, and with a whimper, she stirred her passage with the head. She took charge, tipped her hips, and took him in. How she loved this, the first slow thrusts. His body, controlled and graceful, arched forward. She moved back, seeking his rhythm, moving slowly and carefully. She was slick now, opening so easily for him, welcoming his cock inside.

      She clutched the basket again and it jostled as he pumped into her. Fear lurched inside her, but she was hot and wet and loving this so.

      Madness! Delirious madness.

      His groin smacked against her bottom; the head of his cock bumped her womb. Her cheeks vibrated with each slam of his lean hips. Pleasure rippled through her from each thump, and she thrust back as hard as he pounded forward. The basket rocked precariously, and shouts below warned that the men had to strain to hold the ropes—he’d forgotten to control the balloon.

      She didn’t care.

      Never had she imagined anything like this.

      This was soaring.

      Powerful strokes lifted her onto her tiptoes as he thrust his cock deep inside her. Expertly he shifted his hips on each plunge, changing angle, making her gasp as fire-hot delight roared through her.

      Her clit ached like a slippery trigger. Did she dare—?

      It meant trusting him completely, for she wasn’t holding on, but she unfurled her fingers from the braided wicker rim. She touched her clit—just as his fingers slid there.

      “Yes,” he groaned. “Let me hold you while you play with yourself.”

      His hoarse command sent a spike of delicious agony through her legs as she stroked her own clit. Gently at first, to draw out the exquisite pleasure. Her hand between her thighs made him pant hard as he watched her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open the vent, controlling the balloon while making love to her.

      She arched her rear back, wild and wanton. She had to widen her legs to push back against his hard, incredible power.

      Oh, heavens, it made him go so deep.

      “Rub yourself now, sweetheart. I want to feel you come around my prick.”

      Men were blunt and forthright while they fucked. It was just as her courtesan authors’ books described. Men didn’t waste time making pretty claims of love; they gave directions to their women on how to be erotic and enticing.

      What would he think if she did such a thing? “Touch me, too,” she whispered. “I want you to touch my clit.”

      “God—” He groaned sharply. His long fingers nudged hers aside, his touch so different than hers. The feel of his hands there was pleasure unsurpassed.

      “Harder,” she directed. “I like that.”

      “As do I.” His hips sped up again, and his fingers rasped her, igniting pleasure. Blending strokes—the wild thrusts of his big cock; the slow, sensuous touch of his fingers. Tension wound in her, and she sought it, grinding clit against fingers and derriere against hard, male abdomen.

      “Come now,” he murmured in a hoarse baritone that excited as much as his touch. “Come for me.”

      He was close—she knew that in the tightness of his voice. He wanted her to climax first; he was holding on to his control to please her. She was making it impossible for him to hold on.

      The thought of that—

СКАЧАТЬ