There were beads of sweat on his upper lip, and his eyes were wild and sorrowful.
Deserve was an interesting choice of word, and she stored it away so that she could bring it out and examine it later.
so "3">Right now, though, she deliberately licked her lips, tasting his seed, and said, “I want to.” She wanted to bring him peace if she could.
His grip relaxed, perhaps in surprise, but she took advantage by dipping her head and taking his cock into her mouth. Then his hands tightened again, but she hardly thought it was to stop her now.
She sucked on the tip, a salty plum in her mouth, and ran her hand dreamily down the length. She hadn’t a lot of practice at this, and if there was a proper way of doing it, she wasn’t aware, but he didn’t seem to mind. He muttered something unintelligible and bucked his hips. She smiled secretly and let his cock pull out of her mouth with a soft pop. She tested her teeth against the meaty head, stroking faster below. There was no give in his shaft. He was hard and ready and—
He jackknifed up and flipped her beneath him. And then he was looming large and menacing over her, his face dark as he growled, “Do you think me a plaything, my lady?”
She opened her legs wide, planted her feet, and arched her hips off the bed. She rubbed her sex against his length, watching as his eyelids fell in reaction.
“Perhaps I do,” she whispered. “Perhaps your cock is my favorite toy. Perhaps I want my toy in my—”
But he thrust fast and hard, making her lose her words on a gasp of pleasure.
“Wanton,” he gritted. “My wanton.”
And she could only laugh in sheer erotic frenzy. She bucked her hips up, making him thrust harder just to stay on top. She laughed aloud as she rotated and ground against him, the sweat from his exertions dripping onto her bare breasts. He gripped her hips and held her firmly still as he thudded into her, galloping at an impossible pace. Stars lit behind her open eyes, and she threw her head back and gasped in ecstasy. She held on to his slippery shoulders, feeling the heat spread from her center, conscious dimly that she still laughed aloud even as she crested in glory.
It wasn’t until he shuddered in her arms, swearing steadily under his breath, that her vision cleared and she saw that above her his face was a mask of tragedy.
Chapter Eleven
All of the suitors set off after the ring of bronze, and Princess Surcease sighed and went back into the castle. But Jack found a quiet corner and opened his little tin snuffbox. And what should be inside but exactly what he needed: a suit of armor made of night and wind and the sharpest sword in the world. Jack put the suit on his stumpy body and grasped the sword. Then whoosh! Whist! he stood before a lake. Jack was just wondering if this was the right lake, when an enormous serpent rose up out of the water. What a mighty battle commenced! The serpent was very large and Jack very small, but he did have the sharpest sword in the world, and that suit certainly helped. In the end, the serpent lay dead and the ring lay in Jack’s hand. . . .
—from LAUGHING JACK
He’d apparently married a wanton, Ja ^CK
Of course, all that wonderfulness didn’t quite explain why he was riding away from his town house this morning, having once again eaten breakfast without his wife. This came perilously close to cowardice. But while his body was enthralled by her sensuality, his intellect coldly wondered where she’d gained her knowledge. She must’ve had at least one lover—possibly more—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that thought too closely. The image of another man teaching her. Showing her how to take a cock into her sweet, warm mouth . . .
He growled. A passing chimney sweep shot him a startled glance and shied away.
Jasper pushed the thought from his mind. He hunched his shoulders and drew up his collar against the misty drizzle. The good weather had finally broken, and London was a gray, gloomy world this morning. His mind drifted back to last night. He remembered his wife reflected in the black window as she drew her chemise from her tall, slender body. She’d looked pale and otherworldly, her light brown hair swirling about her hips.
She probably thought him a coward or, worse, an imbecile. He’d left her after they’d made love, without so much as a good night, and spent the night on his pallet. He was an ass. But those eyes, watching him as she kissed his chest, watching him as she asked about Spinner’s Falls. God. She’d had no idea what she’d married. Perhaps it was best that he’d left so ungraciously. Better not to give her hope of something more when he didn’t have it in him to be anything more.
And now he didn’t even make sense in his own mind. He looked up to see Matthew Horn’s town house, glad that he could escape these maudlin musings.
Jasper dismounted Belle and handed the reins to a boy, then leapt up the front steps. A minute later, he was prowling Horn’s library, waiting for him to come down from wherever he was.
He’d just bent to peer at a large and dusty volume when Horn’s voice came from the door. “Looking for some light reading?”
“Just wondering why anyone would want a history of copper mining.” Jasper straightened and grinned.
Horn made a wry face. “My pater’s. Not that it did him any good. The mine he picked to invest in failed.” He strolled into the room and flung himself into a large chair, looping his leg over the arm. “The Horns are not exactly known for their financial sense.”
Jasper grimaced sympathetically. “Bad luck, that.”
Horn shrugged. “Want some tea? Seems early for whiskey.”
“No. Thank you.” Jasper wandered to a framed map of the world and tried to make out where Italy was.
“Come about Spinner’s Falls again, have you?” Horn asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” Jasper agreed without turning. Was it possible Italy wasn’t on the map at all? “Have you heard about what happened to Hasselthorpe?”