Synton admired her silhouette, then motioned for her to stand and turn around.
She did as he’d silently commanded, already hating the fact that her heart raced harder, thrilled for whatever he’d demand next.
Synton gently placed the sash around her head, covering her eyes, then pulled it taut and tied it. The long ribbon tickled her back, falling between her shoulder blades.
She was blindfolded.
With one hand on her shoulder, he slowly spun her to face him. She craved the reassurance of his emerald eyes but could only feel the soft wind of his breath against her mouth.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
All her senses had heightened—from somewhere deep in the house she heard the soft chiming of a clock. Closer still she heard the slight rasp of Synton’s breath, the rustle of his own shirt before he slipped a hand beneath her robe. His touch glided effortlessly over her nightgown as he circled her waist and drew her nearer to him.
“Good.”
His body was warmer than she’d imagined, his scent intoxicating this close by. She tilted her face up, lips parting in anticipation.
If he was only going to kiss her, she wished to enjoy every second of it.
“We can do much better than good, darling.”
His mouth skimmed her neck, her collarbone, grazing lazily from one side to the other before drifting lower, past her locket to the lace above her breasts. She’d expected him to kiss his way upward again, finally pressing his mouth to hers.
But she soon realized that Synton was a man who enjoyed playing.
Camilla felt the air stir around her as he moved, closing his mouth over the peak of her breast, where it pressed against the soft fabric of her nightgown. The unexpected heat and wet of his mouth sent a shock of pleasure through her as his teeth grazed over her again.
A moan slipped past her lips as Synton’s erotic kiss soaked through her nightgown, causing a different sort of wetness to form between her legs.
He held her steady, his big hands gripping her waist, nestled just above the curve of her bottom. His tongue began stroking softly, drawing as much pleasure from her body as he could.
He moved to her other breast, licking and sucking over the thin material until she could no longer think straight.
Too soon, she felt him straighten, her damp nightgown now clinging to her.
“My lord…”
He let out a low sound of amusement, and she could have sworn he whispered he was anything but before he walked her backward until her thighs brushed against the edge of the bed.
“Sit.”
Camilla did, her body tingling and eager for his next kiss.
She couldn’t see him, but she felt his gaze on her, searing and heavy like a physical caress. She knew with certainty that if she could see him, there wouldn’t be anything cold or dark in his eyes now. He would be ravenous, filled with need. Just like her.
Perhaps that was why he wanted her eyes covered—so she wouldn’t know the effect she had on him. She loved and loathed the blindfold—loved how it allowed her to anticipate his next move and loathed that she couldn’t watch him perform it.
“Unless you’d like me to stop, I’m going to kiss you again, Camilla.”
“Please,” her voice was low and husky, “don’t stop.”
He firmly pressed her back until she lay across the bed. Strong hands closed around her ankles, tugging her closer to the edge of the mattress.
His touch sent shivers of pleasures through her.
Silence stretched, the air growing thick with tension.
Camilla wondered if he was staring down at her, and if he was, what his expression looked like now.
Another whisper of movement. Was he kneeling?
She jolted at the unexpected sensation of his mouth on her leg, her gasps turning sharp and uneven. He traced little lines of pleasure from her ankle to her calf, tasting his way upward.
Her breath caught when he paused behind her knee. His powerful hands settled on either thigh, palms flattened there for a moment, rubbing gently. Comforting. Seducing.
Camilla fidgeted, wanting to see him.
Then his hands were moving again, slowly pushing her thighs apart, exposing her aching flesh. She stilled. She’d forgotten that she’d taken her underwear off, wanting to sleep with nothing between her skin and soft lace.
He cursed, and she wasn’t sure he’d meant to. The harsh word igniting her desire even more.
Then he waited, as if testing to see if she would balk. A woman of her station was taught to demur, to deny her passions. To feel shame when she shouldn’t.
The blindfold made her bold.
She slowly widened her legs. Cool air kissed her most sensitive area, her heart pounding as she waited to see what he would do next.
He groaned, as if he could no longer hold himself back, the sound a tortured growl of pure need.
Then his mouth closed over her sex. The first swirl of his tongue was delicate, chaste almost. The second was criminal. His stroke more powerful, demanding. A lazy lick that turned decidedly wicked.
Camilla arched up from the bed, moaning as his tongue parted the folds of her, swirling and then stroking deeper.
“Fuck,” he said, pausing for a moment to kiss the inside of her thigh. “You taste incredible.”
His mouth was on her again, his teeth grazing the bundle of nerves.
A slight nip, a jerk of her body, then he lapped up her desire. It was pleasure with an edge of pain, and nothing had ever felt so good. Her body throbbed as he suckled her flesh, spreading her legs wider so he could feast like a king. He teased her by kissing along her inner thighs, grazing over her sex to the other leg, his breath hot against her arousal.
He certainly liked drawing out each move until she almost cursed.
He blew across her clit, then pressed another chaste kiss to it. Teasing. Maddening. Her flesh growing so slick and engorged it almost hurt.
“Please.” She fisted the sheets, trying to remember why moaning was a bad idea.
“So proper and polite,” he purred against her, his tongue touching her lightly.
She bucked as his mouth closed on her again, his tongue curling slightly inside her.
He did not seem to share her worry about noise. His groan was more animal than human when his tongue touched her again.
Then he kissed her again there, his tongue sliding over the most glorious place she’d ever felt, alternating between flicking and lathing. She arched up from the bed again, panting.
He kept up that wondrously sinful lathing, but her body needed more. She wanted him deeper. Inside her. Pounding in time to that growing, throbbing, aching sensation.
“Oh, my…”
He penetrated her with his tongue, driving deep inside her, and she swallowed a cry of pleasure. His tongue was glorious, thrusting, stroking. Heat bolted up her spine.
The Lord of Syn was making love to her with his wicked mouth. Camilla’s legs opened wider, needing him to press closer, the fire lashing along her body as he owned her with his sinful kiss.
“Oh, my God.”
Another growl.
“I assure you He has nothing to do with this.”
Synton’s hands hardened their hold on her hips, keeping her in place. As if she would move away now. She’d stay prone for all eternity as long as he kept doing that with his unholy, lovely mouth.
She still couldn’t see him, but the image filled her mind—Synton kneeling between her legs, hands buried in her lacy nightgown, head bent to her as if he were an acolyte to her body.