Wickedly Wanton: a Regency Ménage Tale
Her friend was still asleep—arms thrown wide, naked legs open slightly, the remnants of chocolate, heavy cream, and strawberries on her skin. Licking her lips at the memory of Faith’s juices and strawberry, Sabine slipped the shift over her head. Taking a moment, she studied Faith.
Leaving Faith to her sleep, Sabine silently exited the room. She wanted to know where Lord Severn was, when he had slipped from the bed, and why.
Wandering the hall, she took her time examining the paintings. Several were clearly of ancestors; the men had the same long nose and penetrating deep brown eyes as Aiden Merryck, Marquess of Severn. The women, hmm, no she couldn’t detect any resemblance to the Merryck women’s soft features and laughing eyes.
Maybe around the lips—they all had full, sensual lips. While Severn’s lips weren’t full, they were sensual. And oh, how he knew to use them!
She understood that now, understood that look and all it promised. Licking her lips, barely aware of the movement, she remembered Severn inside her. Taking her virginity, making her feel things she was unaware existed. She wanted him again, despite her body’s tenderness.