Page List


Font:  

"It’s permitted?"

Her uncertainty made him smile. "It’s required."

She gave a shaky giggle. Then shock shuddered through him as she released his shoulder and reached down to curl an unsteady hand around him.

He suffered her clumsy caresses until stars exploded in his head. "Selina…stop now," he growled, catching her hand and pulling it away.

Wide brown eyes met his. "You don’t like me touching you?"

"I like it too much." Hands rough with urgency, he caught her hips. "Take me."

He’d expected her to balk when the moment came, but she showed no reluctance. She gripped his shoulders and after some heart-stopping wiggling, she positioned herself over him at last.

With a voluptuous sigh of pleasure that would echo in his dreams, she sank over him. He closed his eyes as he basked in the tight, wet grip. He was a large man, but she took all of him.

For one reverberant moment, she sagged into his body and he felt her trembling reaction. Then she straightened and shifted upward. Another long glide of sexual pleasure. His balls tightened, and he was already teetering on the brink.

"Hell and damnation," he growled as she descended again. Lightning raged behind his eyes, but somehow he remembered that he’d promised to save her from getting with child.

"Selina, don’t take me inside you after this," he said on a gust of breath. He suffered another glide of her body, then twisted, until her back hit the leather seat. "Hold your skirts up."

With shaking hands, she obeyed. He kneeled over her, one hand gripping the back of the seat to keep his balance. With his other hand, he grabbed his dick, as his heart crashed into his ribs with dizzying force. He pressed down, his cock pumping onto her bare stomach. The sway of the carriage added another rich note to the glorious release.

A glorious release that he was mortified to acknowledge was a one-sided event.

Brock sat up and swore, running an unsteady hand through his hair. "I’m sorry, my darling."

He wanted to tell her that this had never happened to him before, but it sounded too much like a lying excuse.

Flushed, ruffled, beautiful, she sprawled half-sitting against the side of the carriage. Her gaze was dark and confused as she stared at him. His seed shone wet on her stomach. He dug in his pocket for his handkerchief and began to clean her up.

"You want me that much?" she asked in a husky voice, as she lay still beneath his ministrations.

"Aye," he said, crumpling the square of white linen and shoving it back in his pocket. "Can you forgive me?"

To his surprise, a delighted smile curved her lips. "That you want me beyond reason? Yes, I think I might find it in my heart to forgive you."

Shocked, he stared at her. "You’re damned tolerant."

Selina sat up and touched his cheek. The small gesture of comfort eased his raging self-disgust, and he believed she really did forgive him. As she smoothed her skirts, she afforded him another view of those spectacular legs. "You can do better next time."

He gave a rueful laugh. "I can. I will."

Brock studied her. Her bodice remained buttoned to the neck, all demure modesty. His hands curled into fists on his lap, as the need to see her breasts surged through him. When he got her into bed, he’d keep her there and climaxing until today’s disappointment became a dim memory.

In fact, why wait for the hunting lodge? "Right now," he said.

"Now?" She waved a hand toward where his prick spilled from his open breeches. "Don’t you need time to…"

"There’s more than one way to skin a cat, sweetheart."

To his surprise, sensible, proper Mrs. Martin burst into a fit of enchanting giggles.

***

Selina gained control of her amusement in time to watch her devilish lover tuck himself back into his breeches with a leisurely lack of self-consciousness. Brock was built on impressive lines. She’d known he would be.

When she’d taken him inside her body, she felt like he filled every lonely space in her heart and soul. The effect had been extraordinary. He stretched her more than Roderick ever had, and in a way she couldn’t explain, that powerful claiming had reached beyond the physical realm. Even with the disappointing finish, Brock’s possession offered an emotional sustenance she’d never known before.


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical