Free A Breach of Promise by Victoria Vane

heaven.” He sealed his promise with a long, ravaging kiss that sent another white-hot jolt straight to his aching cock.
     
    Lydia shut her eyes to the sensation of her slippers sliding from her feet one at a time, the tingling tickle of fingers gliding along the arch of her silk-encased foot, the gentle scraping in the same place accompanied by moist heat. His teeth. Her eyes popped open when he nipped at her toes.
    “Shut your eyes,” Marcus chastised only to continue in a voice like silk. “I want you to savor every sensation, Lydia. Listen to your body. Think of nothing beyond your pleasure.”
    A whisper of satin awakened her to the sensation of his hands gliding beneath her petticoat to skim up her calves. Another rustle and cool air brushed her exposed legs. Her senses flared when Marcus nudged them apart. Her breath hitched when he found the sensitive spot just inside her knee, gently abrading it with the slight bristle of his cheek. The sensation tickled, but sent flares of awareness straight to her private places. His practiced hands and skilled mouth ascended her thighs, tantalizing, teasing, approaching ever closer to her wet and wanting sex.
    When his fingers grazed through the nest of damp curls, her body racked with tremors. “Please, Marcus.” She reached blindly for him, begging for anything to fill the aching need.
    “Shhh. Trust me, my love,” Marcus kissed, caressed and soothed her back into an eroticized state of complaisance. His warm hand cupped and lifted her bottom and her skirts slithered to bunch around her waist. At the thought of his searing gaze on her bared sex, panic raced through Lydia’s blood to penetrate her pleasure-induced delirium. “N-no,” she whimpered, and tried to close her legs but Marcus barred her effort with his shoulders pressed between her knees.
    “Yes, love,” his lips languidly swept her inner thigh, “I’m going to touch you there and kiss you there the same way I kissed your mouth. I’m going to taste you with my tongue and immerse myself in your very essence.”
    “No! You can’t,” she gasped. “It’s too wicked!”
    “Yes,” he chuckled lowly, levering her feet onto his broad linen-clad shoulders. “Delightfully, deliciously wicked and I assure you I can. Tasting you is my most decadent desire and I swear you will know ecstasy in the doing.”
    Her next sound was a choking gasp when he bent his head to scorch a path straight to her core.
     
    Marcus’ mouth ascended, playing over the silky skin of her inner thigh, kissing, licking, softly biting. Nearing his goal, he shut his eyes to better take in her essence—that musky, womanly scent—the evidence of her desire that drove him mad with lust. His sac contracted.
    He ran his fingers over the tight, dark, curls of her mons veneris , and she launched upward with a soft cry. She was so ready, so wet, dripping with arousal. The sweet tang of it made his turgid shaft jolt at every whiff of her erotic scent. He inhaled deeply of her. God, he wanted to bury his face in her sweet quim almost as much as he wanted to sheathe himself in her. His control stretched even tauter, but ignoring his body’s cry, he focused only on achieving her full and rapturous release.
    Marcus lowered his mouth to blow on her mound then brushed his face against the soft mass. She shuddered. With a rumbled of satisfaction, he lapped and laved a long leisurely trail through her down, to her delicate cleft of Venus, parting her glistening lips, probing her with his tongue, licking, sucking her folds until she whimpered and tangled her fingers in his hair. She moaned, “Don’t stop, Marcus. Whatever you’re doing, don’t ever stop.”
    Spurred on by her eager response, Marcus increased the intensity of his efforts, locating the hidden treasure of her clitoris. Plying lips, teeth, and tongue, he worshipped at the altar of her womanhood—circling, swirling and sucking her clitoris while his fingers worked the slick folds