Free A Honeymoon Masquerade by Victoria Vale Page A

few moments, he would have her ensconced in a private corner of the garden, tossing her skirts. A shiver ran down her spine as she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the open garden doors.
    “What if I said,” he whispered, lowering his head toward hers, “that the only thing more beautiful on you than lilac, is nothing at all?”
    A throb began between her legs, spreading in a deep ache through her inner thighs.
    “I’d call you an impertinent lecher,” she replied.
    He chuckled, nuzzling her ear as they cleared the doors. The cool night air immediately offered respite from the stifling heat of the ballroom.
    “What if I told you that the only thing that looked better on you than nothing, was the glow of the moonlight?”
    She closed her fan and swatted him with it. “I’d be forced to inform you that such compliments are beneath you, Your Grace. Surely you can do better.”
    Dislodging her hold on his arm, he turned to face her, a devilish smile curving his wicked mouth.
    “What if I told you, that the only thing that looks better on you than lilac, or nothing at all, or the light of the moon … was me?”
    “Oh, well done,” she murmured. “That might just warrant a reward.”
    “A reward. Well, I do like the sound of that. I intend to collect right now.”
    Glancing over his shoulder at the crowded ballroom, her eyes widened. “Here? Now?”
    Grasping her waist he propelled her toward the balcony’s stone rail, and away from the open doors. Darkness sheltered them, though anyone who exited through the doors would only need to turn in their direction and look closely to make them out.
    The thought excited her, adding to the urgency as he lifted and sat her upon the rail, hurriedly lifting her skirts.
    “Yes, now,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear. “Is there ever a better time than right now?”
    “No,” she sighed, tilting her head back to give him access to the curve of her neck.
    His lips traced a path from there, over her collarbone and toward her breasts. One hand fumbling between them to open his breeches, he dipped his tongue into the neckline of her gown and found one pebbled nipple. She gasped, holding on tight as he released his cock from the confines of his clothes and angled it toward her waiting sheath.
    She’d already grown wet with desire, easing the way for his less-than-gentle entry. Crying out, she buried her face against his shoulder, wrapping her legs around his waist as he thrust in and out of her. Her channel gripped him tightly, and the delicious friction caused by his movements sent tremendous waves of pleasure through her. They built and swelled until she was panting, her chest heaving and swelling as she bit her lower lips and fought not to moan aloud in ecstasy. A low whimper escaped, despite her attempts at silence.
    “Now, now,” he whispered with a low chuckled, “you’re going to attract the entire ballroom out here.”
    Her fingers clenched around the lapels of his coat, holding tighter. “I can’t help it,” she groaned, digging her heels into his back and urging him on harder, faster. “You feel so good inside me.”
    He responded with a low groan, as he swiftly lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. Their tongues mated, meeting between their joined lips, tangling and parting with urgency. He reached down and grasped her hips, moving her back and forth at the perfect angle and speed to meet his increasingly forceful thrusts.
    Muffling the strangled cry burning in her throat, she surrendered to the release washing over her, causing her back to arch and her insides to pulsate and throb around his rigid member. With a grunt and one last thrust, he spilled inside of her, burying his face against her neck as he shuddered and dug his fingers into her flesh, his grip tight and possessive.
    They pulled apart, both panting and fighting for composure. His eyes had taken on the satisfied, heavy-lidded quality she knew so well.