At Least Once More by Emma Lai

spine in reaction to being told to behave, molten heat melted her backbone. If not for Gareth’s hand tight in her hair, she’d have sunk into a boneless heap. Instead, she arched her back, an impatient noise rumbling in her throat. His claim had unleashed something primitive.
    A delicious tingle ran along her skin when his lips claimed hers. She might not understand her desire to submit to his will when she’d never submitted to anyone else’s command, but she did know the pleasure his kisses would bring. She parted her lips, and he answered the invitation, sweeping his tongue inward to play with hers. She grasped his shoulders and pressed closer, but his hand at her hip prevented her from twisting enough to get flush against him. She groaned and sucked on his tongue, trying to draw him in more.
    He growled, melting her insides, slid the hand at her hip under her, and lifted her bottom. He broke the kiss. “Straddle me, Annabelle.”
    Like a horse? Hadn’t she imagined herself riding him? Fighting the weakness in her legs, she climbed to her knees. The tight confines of her riding skirt tangled between her legs.
    He dropped his hands to the side. “Lift your skirts.”
    She raised a knee and, with a shaky hand, then tugged the material free. She repeated the action with the other knee.
    “Raise them to your waist.”
    Heat flushed her body, as if she had on too many clothes, but still she hesitated. He wanted her to bare herself to his gaze. The last person to see her woman’s mound was probably her nurse, and the look in Gareth’s eyes didn’t look nurturing in the least.
    “I’m waiting.”
    Drawing a shaky breath, she inched her skirts, petticoat, and the hem of her chemise upward. Cool air greeted the exposed top of her thighs unclothed by stockings and garters. She suppressed a shudder. The air did nothing to bank the tendrils of heat teasing her wherever Gareth’s gaze skimmed because his fingers weren’t far behind. Her calf. Her knee. She gasped as his fingers found the bare skin above her garter, then slid up to tease the downy hair of her sex.
    She should have burned with embarrassment. No one had ever touched her there. She’d even shied away from the unusual sensations bathing herself there had caused.
    But now, a relentless kind of restlessness had her spreading her thighs wider, chasing the illicit feelings, trusting Gareth to ease the ache.
    He combed his fingers through the hair, tugging slightly and sending tendrils of that very pleasurable pain to weaken her limbs.
    He removed his hand. She followed, but he chuckled. “Be patient, my Belle.”
    Patient? Who knew how long their privacy would last. She forced her eyes open. When had she shut them? In the depths of his green gaze, a fire burned, like in the heart of the deepest emerald, and seared her body and soul. His Belle. Never again would she hate that nickname. She wanted to be his.
    “Kiss me,” he said.
    She dropped her head and sealed her lips against his as his fingers once more found her sex. She let her eyes drift closed. She thrust her tongue into his mouth when he teased her nether lips apart. He slipped one finger between to scrape across a tender spot, a hidden nub of flesh that shot fire through her veins. She held her skirts tighter, wishing it were his strong shoulders beneath her fingers.
    He explored further, sliding through the wetness with ease until—she gasped—he was inside her!
    He’d breached her body, and she only wanted more. She sank onto the digit, which teased her opening, stretching her, but not enough. He swallowed her muffled protest over the withdrawal of his finger, and then swallowed her gasp when it returned.
    He seized control of the kiss, penetrating her mouth with his tongue, mimicking the thrust of his finger. She shifted her hips, seeking more. He stilled his hand but swept his tongue deeper. She fell into the kiss, her tongue warring with his.
    With his thumb, he found that hidden place that