Lord of the Masquerade by Erica Ridley
Chapter 20
Julian closed his eyes when she took him into her mouth, then immediately opened them. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of making love to Unity.
He knew what would inevitably happen. They would enjoy each other, then go their separate ways. It’s what always happened. It was what he preferred, what he had always engineered.
But he didn’t want her to walk away. He wanted to keep her.
No—he wanted her to want to keep him.
He had never invited anyone into his personal quarters, into his real life. It was terrifying. If this was the end—if, after they found their pleasure with each other, they never found each other again—his private rooms would always remind him of Unity. His bed would forever hold the memory of the time she had been in it with him, of the moments they’d shared in each other’s arms.
If she let him hold her, that was.
God, he wanted to hold her. To kiss her, to love her, to...
Love.
There was no sense denying it anymore. His heart was perfectly capable of the emotion, and had in fact gone completely off script and tumbled irrevocably in love with the woman who was bringing him perilously close to release.
“Stop,” he croaked. “I want... I want...”
“I will give you what you want.” She removed her mouth, then licked him from base to tip before lifting her head with a smile. “Or maybe I won’t. Are you in control?”
“Yes,” he promised. But it was a lie.
She was in control and she knew it.
Julian had never relinquished the upper hand before. Never suspected it could be so erotic.
She slowly kissed her way up his torso. He could reach for her. Could toss her onto her back and bury his face between her thighs and show her exactly what he was capable of.
By doing as she asked, by restraining himself, they were sharing control.
It was almost as terrifying as being in love.
When at last her lips finally reached his mouth, he kissed her with unrestrained hunger. It was one thing to admit to himself he was in love, despite all his attempts to protect his heart from the vulnerability of such an emotion.
It was another thing to fight for love. To prove what was in one’s heart to someone else. Through the means of their choice. Even if the effort might not work. Even if the uncertainty was killing him.
“May I touch you?” he asked hoarsely.
“Not yet.” She lifted her torso.
This time as she straddled him, his breeches were no longer a hindrance, and his cock was free to nudge against the apex of her thighs.
No—he wasn’t doing it. She was.
Unity slowly pulled her gown up over her hips, her breasts, her hair, until she wore only her thin chemise. She rocked her hips back and forth against him, rubbing the length of his shaft against her slick heat. Not only pleasuring him, but pleasuring herself.
His fingers gripped the pillows on either side of his head to prevent his arms from reaching for her.
She dropped the gown over the side of the bed with a smile. “Wasn’t that easy? Theatre costumes are made to be easily donned and doffed.”
What? He didn’t care about the costume. He cared about his cock rubbing so deliciously against the place it longed to enter. He cared about the ample hips he yearned to feel beneath his palms. He cared about the dark nipples poking enticingly against her thin chemise. He cared about her soft, delicious mouth too far away to taste.
“May I touch you now?” he begged.
Him, begging. He had never pleaded for anything. But he would beg every night for the rest of eternity if it led to making love to Unity.
“Not yet.” She rubbed herself against him, slowly, deliberately, torturously. “Patience.”
He had no patience. He was drowning.
As she rolled her hips, teasing them both with the sensual contact, she pulled her chemise up over her thighs, up over her hips—
Oh god, now he could see where their bodies stroked against each other. His shaft pulsed and he squeezed his eyes shut against the erotic sight, only to reopen them immediately thereafter because that fluttery chemise was traveling up over her breasts and falling to the floor beside the bed.
He’d never wanted anything more in his life than to feel those plump breasts in his palms, to suck those gorgeous brown nipples into his mouth.
“May I please touch you?” He no longer recognized his voice. It was raw, desperation and desire wrapped together.
She cupped her breasts with her hands. His groin tightened. After a moment, she reached down with both hands, pulled his fingers free from where they gripped each pillow, and placed his hands on her breasts.
He could barely breathe from the sensation of finally feeling that soft weight in his palms, those hard nipples rolling between his fingers.
“See?” she teased breathlessly. “Relinquishing control does not relinquish your power or your self. You still get what you want in the end. We both do.”
“I...” But whatever he was going to say was lost.
Unity was lowering herself onto Julian’s shaft. He completely forgot how to speak or breathe or do anything but surge up with his hips in an attempt to penetrate her faster.
She smacked him just above his thigh. “I will set the pace.”
His cock pulsed in rebellion and delight.
“Did you just... strike me?” he gasped.
She grinned. “Did you enjoy it? I can do it again. Harder, if you like.”
His bollocks tightened as though they would very much like him to try that one day.
But at this moment, he could think of nothing but Unity. He was finally seated fully within her. She pulled away and then sank back down, slowly, then faster.
As she rode him, she fell forward until her breasts brushed against his cheek, his jaw, his eager mouth. He loved her feel, her taste. She placed his hands on her hips and at last he could grip her tight, feeling the rhythm as her soft curves bounced against him, driving him mad with pleasure.
“Touch me.”
Her words were barely a whisper against his hair, but he heard them in his bones. She was close. He could bring her over the edge.
He slid his palm over the softness of her belly, lowering his thumb until it reached the sensitive nub just above where their bodies intertwined. He circled, teased, pinched, stroked, until her muscles tightened and her body shuddered against him, squeezing his shaft with her spasms.
When her orgasm abated, he barely had time to lift her hips from him before spilling his own seed hot across her thigh. Breathing heavily, his heart still galloping, he fumbled for his cravat to clean her skin and then pulled her against his chest, enveloping her in his strong embrace.
Somewhat strong. He was so sated, he could barely move. Or perhaps it was that he did not wish to move. Now that he finally had Unity naked and satisfied in his arms, he never wanted to let her go.