How To Tempt a Viscount by Margaret McPhee Read Free Book Online

kissing her again as his fingers worked upon the buttons of her bodice before he eased it from her. Her petticoats followed to pool around her ankles. She saw his eyes range over the striped corset before coming back to hers, and she felt his arousal against her thigh.
    ‘Turn around,’ he said and his voice was husky and low and brimming with masculine power.
    She presented him with her back and felt the scald of his breath against the nape of her neck, the tease of his lips against that sensitive skin making every nerve in her body tingle.
    He unlaced her, and the trace of his fingers against her back made her catch her breath and her nipples bud all the harder. As the laces loosened the corset’s tight constriction gaped, freeing her breasts within her shift. Her nipples were so sensitive that the shift’s fine lawn felt coarse against them. The last lace was undone and the corset fell away into his hands as she turned to face him, wearing only the thin shift and her stockings and shoes. The corset still dangled from his hand. Without moving his gaze from hers he brought the garment to his mouth and touched a kiss to it before dropping it to the rug below.
    She unfastened the neckline of her shift, letting it slide down over her body to pool around her ankles. Naked save for her shoes and stockings, she stood before him, conscious of the beat of her heart, conscious of the enormity of the love and passion in every single one of those beats. The sight of him, the smell of him, the touch of him, the heat that was in his eyes…all excited her beyond endurance. His gaze raked her body before rising to meet her eyes. And his gaze was fierce in its tenderness. He was her man, her husband…her lover. The knowledge made her ache all the more between her legs, deep inside, where only he could reach.
    He shrugged off his tailcoat, discarded his waistcoat. She reached for him, her fingers catching at his cravat, pulling him closer and pressing an urgent kiss to his mouth while she slid the linen strip from around his neck and let it fall away to the floor. She struggled with unfastening his collar, but Marcus did it for her, stripping it away that she might kiss his Adam’s apple, before dipping her tongue in the hollow between his collarbones. Then she was pulling his shirttails out of his breeches, pushing them up and over his chest with impatience. He slipped the shirt over his head then discarded the rest of his clothes before standing naked before her.
    He looked bigger than she remembered; tall and muscular and toned. A man that made her whole body tremble for the need of him. Her eyes traced the familiar scar on his shoulder, pale against the rest of his honey-gold skin. She followed the dusting of dark hair over his chest, to where it narrowed and trailed over the tight ribbed band of muscle in his abdomen down to his manhood, which bobbed erect and long and thick. He scooped her up, still wearing her shoes and stockings, and perched her on the edge of the bed.
    She bent to unfasten the garter of her stocking but Marcus stopped her. He kissed her ankle, her shin, her knee. He parted her legs, kneeling between them as his mouth continued its journey, his breath trailing hot up her thigh as he kissed and mouthed his way steadily closer to her secret place.
    ‘Marcus,’ she whispered when she realised his intended destination. He mouthed the tender white skin at the top of her inner thighs, so close to her core that she could feel the warm stroke of his breath upon it, and eased her flat on the bed.
    ‘You cannot!’

    He did not alter his position but his dark gaze scorched hers with its implacable promise and she knew with an absolute certainty that he would. And then, while he watched her eyes, his mouth closed over her.
    ‘Marcus!’ But he busied his tongue all the more, flicking against her bud as he kissed and sucked and licked her. And all the while his fingers strummed and played where she strained and ached