found it hard to draw breath. Damn Marguerite ! And damn this green-eyed emissary she’d sent to steal his child. Or worse.
“Instead, I bring home a fey woman-child who could never be a wife to me. Marguerite’s penchant for keeping secrets destroyed any chance of happiness we might have had.” He laughed mirthlessly. “In the end, that fat, titled fish did manage to escape.” His voice dripped bitterness. “Lily died, and with her, the small income I sent monthly to her mother. So that panderer sends you here to take Lily’s place.”
Dash’s hands, still gripping Jessa’s shoulders, tingled, pulsed, just as they did every time he touched her. He raised a hand, running his fingers through the heavy curtain of her hair. Satin. He massaged her scalp, then snatched the hair at her nape, pulling her head back, forcing her to look at him. He lowered his face to hers; mere inches separated his lips from the plump beauties she nibbled.
Her gasp allowed her breath, redolent of the clove-scented apple butter she’d just eaten, to waft past his nose. The scent was temptation itself. Had Eve tasted like Cornish Gillyflower apples, no wonder the poor sot had surrendered. Dash’s cock stiffened painfully against the restraint of his tight trousers. Even if he were damned in the next instant, he had to have a taste of those apples.
Marguerite sent her to him, he was sure of it. He could hear the harridan now. “ Go. Capture back the prize Lily lost. Do whatever it takes to entwine him, entrap him .”
Just as Lily had. This little chit in his arms, tears coursing down her pale white cheeks, couldn’t possibly be the innocent she portrayed. Not after having been raised in a household such as that. Those tears were not fear, but frustration that her machinations were for naught.
Well, hell. Why not take the consolation prize Marguerite offered? At least this time, he’d know what he was getting. He licked the shell of her ear, leaving a damp trail there, then blew softly.
She tried to flinch away from him, but his iron grip wouldn’t allow it.
“Are you prepared to take Lily’s place, Jessamine?” He whispered against her ear. “Will you open for me, as she opened herself for so many others?” He slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, pausing to brush his palm along the outer curve of her breast.
She struggled in his arms, pummeling his chest, trying to shove him away.
Hellcat. Witch. Just like Marguerite. Like Lily. They’d perpetrated their last deception at his expense. No quarter would be granted this time.
“No Jessamine, that’s not the way to catch a husband. Didn’t Marguerite and Lily offer you better instruction in the fine art of seducing a wealthy man?” He pulled her tight against him, allowing her to feel the rigid shaft between his legs against her belly.
“Did they not teach you that you must open your mouth to him, bare your ripe, full breasts to him? Invite him to lick, to suckle there?” His hand moved from her narrow waist to cup her bottom, kneading the flesh hidden by her skirts. “And then, my oh so lovely Jessa mine, will you open even more for me? Will you draw me into madness with you? Just as Lily tried to do?”
How dare this fussy little miss waltz in here, tossing such bombshells? Rage formed a misty red haze in front of his eyes. Jessa’s hands on his chest burned like twin brands. Lust pounded like a drum between his thighs. There was no help for it; he closed the gap between them and claimed her lips.
No gentleness softened his kiss. He slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth, licking her lips, then nipped at the lower one.
She gasped.
He took advantage, swept into her open mouth, his tongue wrestling with hers.
It was everything he’d imagined. Sweet. Wet. The taste of ripe, juicy apples. He groaned into her mouth. Her mewling cries and struggles in his arms only inflamed him further.
One small part of his mind retained some semblance of sanity. He
“Instead, I bring home a fey woman-child who could never be a wife to me. Marguerite’s penchant for keeping secrets destroyed any chance of happiness we might have had.” He laughed mirthlessly. “In the end, that fat, titled fish did manage to escape.” His voice dripped bitterness. “Lily died, and with her, the small income I sent monthly to her mother. So that panderer sends you here to take Lily’s place.”
Dash’s hands, still gripping Jessa’s shoulders, tingled, pulsed, just as they did every time he touched her. He raised a hand, running his fingers through the heavy curtain of her hair. Satin. He massaged her scalp, then snatched the hair at her nape, pulling her head back, forcing her to look at him. He lowered his face to hers; mere inches separated his lips from the plump beauties she nibbled.
Her gasp allowed her breath, redolent of the clove-scented apple butter she’d just eaten, to waft past his nose. The scent was temptation itself. Had Eve tasted like Cornish Gillyflower apples, no wonder the poor sot had surrendered. Dash’s cock stiffened painfully against the restraint of his tight trousers. Even if he were damned in the next instant, he had to have a taste of those apples.
Marguerite sent her to him, he was sure of it. He could hear the harridan now. “ Go. Capture back the prize Lily lost. Do whatever it takes to entwine him, entrap him .”
Just as Lily had. This little chit in his arms, tears coursing down her pale white cheeks, couldn’t possibly be the innocent she portrayed. Not after having been raised in a household such as that. Those tears were not fear, but frustration that her machinations were for naught.
Well, hell. Why not take the consolation prize Marguerite offered? At least this time, he’d know what he was getting. He licked the shell of her ear, leaving a damp trail there, then blew softly.
She tried to flinch away from him, but his iron grip wouldn’t allow it.
“Are you prepared to take Lily’s place, Jessamine?” He whispered against her ear. “Will you open for me, as she opened herself for so many others?” He slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, pausing to brush his palm along the outer curve of her breast.
She struggled in his arms, pummeling his chest, trying to shove him away.
Hellcat. Witch. Just like Marguerite. Like Lily. They’d perpetrated their last deception at his expense. No quarter would be granted this time.
“No Jessamine, that’s not the way to catch a husband. Didn’t Marguerite and Lily offer you better instruction in the fine art of seducing a wealthy man?” He pulled her tight against him, allowing her to feel the rigid shaft between his legs against her belly.
“Did they not teach you that you must open your mouth to him, bare your ripe, full breasts to him? Invite him to lick, to suckle there?” His hand moved from her narrow waist to cup her bottom, kneading the flesh hidden by her skirts. “And then, my oh so lovely Jessa mine, will you open even more for me? Will you draw me into madness with you? Just as Lily tried to do?”
How dare this fussy little miss waltz in here, tossing such bombshells? Rage formed a misty red haze in front of his eyes. Jessa’s hands on his chest burned like twin brands. Lust pounded like a drum between his thighs. There was no help for it; he closed the gap between them and claimed her lips.
No gentleness softened his kiss. He slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth, licking her lips, then nipped at the lower one.
She gasped.
He took advantage, swept into her open mouth, his tongue wrestling with hers.
It was everything he’d imagined. Sweet. Wet. The taste of ripe, juicy apples. He groaned into her mouth. Her mewling cries and struggles in his arms only inflamed him further.
One small part of his mind retained some semblance of sanity. He
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