Masquerade (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 1) by Victoria Vale Page B

Maggie and never noticed her? She was the most vibrant, vivacious woman he’d ever had in his arms. He could not imagine encountering her without being overcome with the need to have her then and there.
    “Camden,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his in the mirror.
    “Yes, love?” he asked.
    “I am weary of fantasy. Show me what it really means to be with you. Make love to me.”
    He turned her to face him, his lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss. Her arms came around his neck and she clung to him, her mouth engaging his just as passionately. He found the strings of her corset and yanked, working to unlace her from the constricting garment. She reached up and began untying his cravat. Throwing it aside, she attacked the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat, opening both garments simultaneously.
    The muscles of his chest and stomach tensed in response to her touch, feather light and searching on his naked skin.
    Finally freeing her from the corset, he tossed it aside before shedding his shirt and waistcoat. Gripping her hips, he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her toward his massive bed.
    He whisked the counterpane aside and laid her on the crisp white sheets. Then, turning to the bedside table, he opened the top drawer and retrieved a condom.
    “To protect you from becoming pregnant,” he stated, showing her the wrapped letter before placing it on the bed beside her.
    His father had introduced him to sheaths before he’d left home for university, reminding him that while it was generally accepted for a man to sow his wild oats before—and most assuredly after—getting married, the siring of bastards was frowned upon. Aside from that, contracting a case of syphilis from an infected whore would have been just as disgraceful, if not more so. He’d never been a day without them since then, and had luckily escaped all manner of diseases thus far. As far as he knew, he’d sired no bastards.
    She sat up on the bed, coming to her knees. A small smile transformed her face. “How thoughtful of you. I hadn’t even considered such things.”
    “I want you to be free to enjoy the night without worry,” he replied, climbing up onto the bed beside her.
    She reached for him, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling him down toward her for a kiss.
    “Thank you,” she murmured just before sliding her tongue into his mouth.
    Camden met it with his own, and they dueled, the gentle friction sending a tremor down his spine.
    As they kissed, he reached up and palmed her breasts. The nipples hardened, teasing his fingers and beckoning to his mouth. She arched her back, offering them up to his lips. He bent his head, pressing the two large globes together, and ran his tongue over both nipples. He took one between his teeth and teased it with a gentle tug before taking the other into his mouth and suckling as if starving.
    She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails clawing his back and drawing a groan of both pleasure and pain from deep in his chest. Laying her back onto the bed, he pulled the chemise down over her hips and legs, baring her to his hungry gaze.
    “You have a body made for loving,” he remarked, his hands tracing her curves, fondling her breasts, before skimming the flat plane of her stomach and the generous curves of her hips. “So damned perfect.”
    Reaching down between them, he slid one finger between her lower lips, moaning at the feel of her slick, heated flesh. She dripped with wetness, her tight little sheath gripping his finger hungrily. He pumped it in and out, stretching and accustoming her to his touch. His thumb found its way through her slickened curls and the inner folds, teasing her clitoris with gentle pressure and causing her hips to bow up off the bed.
    “There?” he asked, giving the bud another gentle stroke.
    “Yes, there!” she cried, her hips thrusting against his hand, taking his finger in deeper.
    Her juices coated the digit, and he