Читать книгу Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 8

Chapter 3

The force of her motion drove them both backward onto said piece of furniture. Julian hit the sofa hard with her on top of him in an inelegant sprawl. Then he heard what she’d heard moments before: people. Someone else had found the dratted room, two of them with libidinous intentions from the sounds they were making. Good lord, the entire party would soon be ensconced in this most remote chamber.

“Don’t just lie there, kiss me, or we’ll be stuck here for the duration of their affair.” She jerked her head toward the sounds of the interlopers, whispering in stern, dictatorial tones that didn’t sound in the least like the dulcet voice of an innocent young lady. Come to think of it, she didn’t feel like an innocent young lady either. The breasts crushed against him, spilling out of her ball gown, were definitely a woman’s breasts, full and lush. Julian’s erection stirred to life. How could it not? She was stunning in the flush of excitement—her breath coming fast, her green eyes flashing, her hair falling out of its coiffure around her face.

Intuition told him she wasn’t what her appearance led him to believe. For the first time, it occurred to him that she was possibly a liar, a very beautiful liar. The thought completed his arousal, the proof of which was pressing against her stomach in obvious force. She really mustn’t wiggle like that.

Suddenly Julian jerked. The minx had her hand on him in a most indecent way. He was no prude, but he at least liked to exchange names before such proceedings. Before he could protest, she silenced him with an openmouthed kiss. She moaned audibly, her hand running the length of him, taking his measure through his trousers. “Oh my lord, you’re magnificent, so big, so powerful.” She gasped and giggled, making every effort to be heard. She lifted her face far enough from his for him to read her arch expression.

Julian smiled. He understood her game, a clever ploy to expel the new invaders from the room. “It is you who makes me such a stallion, my sweetling,” he parried, nipping at her bottom lip and coercing a surprised squeal from her. It served the wench right for taking his trousers at unawares. She sucked at the delicate lobe of his ear in retaliation. He groaned his appreciation and the game within the game was fully underway.

This venture was quickly becoming less about driving the intruders from the room and more about something else altogether. His stranger was an able partner; nibbling at his ear, stroking him expertly with her hand until he thought he might lose control without even taking his trousers off. That would be a first.

His minx drew back as suddenly as she had engaged. “I think they’re gone.” Gingerly, she lifted her head to peer over the sofa. Julian decided to tickle her one last time for good measure. He told himself such precautions were to keep up the believable pretense. But in reality, he knew better. He wasn’t ready for the game to be over. She gave a little scream and he pulled her back down onto him.

“What was that for?” she scolded, pushing at his chest to lever herself upright.

“Just in case they were still here. Are they?” Julian asked, admiring his view of her breasts, which were rising and falling in her indignation. He ached to cup them, to feel their purported firmness fill his hands. And why shouldn’t he? Such an action would only be returning the favor.

“No, they’ve gone.” She moved, trying to disengage. Julian held her firmly by the hips.

“Good, then we can get back to our unfinished business, as it were.” Julian boldly glanced down at his aroused member.

“I think not, sir. You have misconstrued my motives. Such actions were merely a distraction, a decoy. Now, if you’d please release me?”