Total pages in book: 207
Estimated words: 196971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 985(@200wpm)___ 788(@250wpm)___ 657(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 985(@200wpm)___ 788(@250wpm)___ 657(@300wpm)
“Is something wrong, ma lisse?”
Ha! She pursed her lips determinedly. Did he think sweet-talking her would make her biddable? Did he think she was as simple and easy as the other women?
Flicking the reins, the marquis said, “I had no chance to tell you this earlier, but you look exquisite today.”
She felt his gaze resting on her hair, which she had arranged in a loose, casual chignon. Unlike most ladies, she insisted on dressing her hair on her own, secretly finding the challenge a way to relieve her stress.
“I hope you always put your hair up.”
The comment was so unexpected that she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why?”
“So I’d have the pleasure of taking it down.”
Oh! Her cheeks burned with color at the intimacy of his tone. She should have seen that coming, curse it.
“Are you wearing a new dress?”
She shrugged, unwilling to admit that yes, the lavender satin gown she had on was indeed a new purchase.
“Thank you for wearing it for me.”
She gasped. “Stop reading my mind!”
He grinned. “I didn’t.”
Realizing she had fallen for his trap, Soleil gasped again and socked his arm as hard as she could. It only made him laugh, and the sound so incensed her, she raised her hand to slap him.
But he only caught her wrist the moment she swung her hand down, and still laughing, he let go of the reins—-
Her eyes widened in shock even as her wrist burned at his touch. “Milord!” They were going to crash!
“Relax,” he murmured. “The horses are trained to slow down and stay on trails where they – and we – won’t be seen.”
And so they were, the horses actually slowing down the moment they sensed that no one was controlling them.
The marquis suddenly hauled her to his lap. She immediately struggled, but it was like going against a wall of unbending steel. “The more you wriggle, the more you arouse me, milady.”
She froze, realizing what the hardness under her meant.
His hands dug into her curls—-
“No!”
But it was too late. The marquis was pulling out the pins and letting them scatter to the floor. Her curls tumbled down and he groaned in satisfaction. “Lovely,” he said hoarsely.
The way he was staring at her made Soleil swallow. Dear Lord, his hunger for her—-
He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she lost the will to struggle, the pleasure of his touch making her feel like she was melting by the second. His mouth touched her hair, and she shivered. His mouth trailed down the side of her neck, nuzzling, and she couldn’t help arching in his arms.
“All night,” the marquis groaned, “I thought about this. About you.”
“Y-you’re exaggerating,” she gasped.
His head lifted up, and his eyes locked with hers. “Tis the truth, milady.” His fingers traced her lips as he murmured, “You know what I am. I can do away with sleep if I must, and last night, I didn’t want to sleep. I’d rather think of you—-”
Her entire body shuddered at his revelation, embarrassment and pleasure warring inside her.
“In my mind, I kept replaying the image of how I made you come with my fingers—-”
Oh!
“S-stop saying such things!” But his mind had connected with hers, and Dear God, she could see what he was seeing, imagining the entire night—-
Wetness flooded her folds, and she automatically pressed her thighs together in an effort to stem the tide.
“And the entire night, I fucking regretted not having a taste of you—-”
A throaty moan slipped out of her, and her head fell back as he nuzzled her neck, biting the tender skin before moving his mouth down her bosom.
The entire world disappeared in her need for him, and she could only moan as he shifted her in his lap until she was straddling him and his hardness was between her legs. She had read in her secret books about these moments, had read about what it would make her feel.
But still, none of it prepared her for the beauty of it—-
The hot, wet, pulsating beauty of his hardness meeting her softness, of his engorged cock straining against his breeches as if it had the absolute need to pound itself into her.
His hands clasped her waist in a possessive grip. Her eyes flew to him just as he pulled her down hard, grinding her wet and aching mound on his satin-covered breeches.
She moaned long and hard. He started rubbing her up and down his cock, and she moaned again, the pleasure agonizing and unbearable in the sweetest possible way.
“Look at me, ma lisse,” he growled.
The growl was inhuman and powerful. It was pure wolf, and she should have found it terrifying but she didn’t. Instead, she thrilled to his command, and with another shudder, she lifted her eyes to him—-
“You are mine.”
Her body went up in flames at the possessive claim, and she knew she was speaking to the wolf behind the marquis’ beautiful façade.