Free Impostress by Lisa Jackson

forced out the words. "To fall in love with my husband."
    "You're a romantic?" he said with the hint of a sneer.
    She nodded sluggishly, some of her wine sloshing out of her mazer. Quickly she sipped from the full cup, then noticed the stains on the white of her chemise, purple blotches over her breasts and abdomen.
    "Oh ... dear ..."
    Catching her staring at the spots, he smiled ... a wicked, devilish smile. He pried the cup from her fingers, then set each of their mazers on the table. Shimmering light reflected in his eyes for a second and she knew in an instant that the moment of truth had come, that she could not avoid his touch. Slowly, he lowered his head and his lips pressed against the thin cloth over the dark splotches.
    Hot and moist, his breath seared through the chemise to burn against her skin. She writhed. Moaned. Experienced a new and frightening want. Slowly his tongue traced the outline of a stain, and she felt a tingle deep inside, a yearning so deep it was terrifying and, oh, so seductive. She felt a need to wiggle against him, to feel his flesh against hers. He turned his attention to another stain, one that started below her neckline and spread dark over one breast.
    His tongue found the discoloration. Flicked against it.
    Her nipples tightened to hard pebbles, eager for more of his touch. Oh, God, this was not supposed to happen.
    Want rippled through her.
    She tried to move and couldn't.
    As she watched him, she wondered what it would be like for him to kiss her bare skin, to strip off her clothes and touch her in the most private of places. Oh, she was a wanton. This was her sister's husband. The man Elyn was to live with for the rest of her life. Yet Kiera couldn't push him away. The sensations running through her body were new and treacherously delicious. Erotic pulses snapped through her blood, pounded in her heart. The thin, frail fabric of her chemise was little barrier, yet she wanted to cast it off.
    No. Don't do this, Kiera. You can't.
    His tongue found the stain and pressed hot and rough through the slick fabric.
    She let out a soft moan. This shameful act couldn't be happening. Couldn't. She would stop it right now. "I—I don't think ... oh!"
    His mouth found her nipple and through the lace and silk he kissed, wetting the fabric so that it clung to her as tightly as a second skin. "Then don't think," he whispered against her, his breath fanning already hot fires deep within her belly.
    Slowly he slid a hand upward to touch her other breast, gently kneading, strong, callused fingers massaging her skin and toying with her nipple. Dear God, she ached inside, began to move, found her own fingers running eagerly, desperately through his hair. Sinful as it was, she wanted him. All of him. Upon her, around her, beneath her, inside her. Touching, melding, kissing. Erotic images filled her mind, images she'd never witnessed, never experienced, but now seared through her brain in exciting and sensuous detail.
    All thoughts of denial fled. His teeth scraped against her nipple and she arched her back.
    "That's it, little wife," he growled, sliding upward to kiss her full on the lips, his mouth open, her own an invitation. His tongue slid between her teeth, the tip skimming the roof of her mouth, then mating with her own. The world spun, the chamber seemed to melt away, and all Kiera could do was return his feverish kisses.
    She couldn't think, didn't try as he pulled her chemise upward, exposing her legs. She knew she should stop him, but as his fingers caressed her calves and thighs, and delicious shivers slid down her spine, she didn't. She had vague thoughts about the elixir and why it wasn't working, and why she was so weak when it came to refusal of this man, but her musings disappeared as he touched her, probed her, sending spasms through her.
    "You're so tight," he whispered, his voice thick with pleasure as he began to stroke. She was moving with him, accepting him, opening to him, kissing him