He fumbled for his handkerchief and spilled into it. When he’d finished, he released a quivering sigh and collapsed against the red leather upholstery.
Tremors of bliss still shook Selina. She’d just soared to heights of rapture she’d never imagined existed. "You’re a considerate lover."
"I promised." Weariness weighed his answer, as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He took care of her, as he vowed he would. It was rank stupidity to feel cheated at the waste of his seed outside her body. Yet cheated she felt. But she wanted him so much. Part of that wanting was for him to give her everything.
"Is it satisfying to pull out like that?"
Without opening his eyes, he raised expressive black eyebrows. "I find it preferable to using a sheath."
"What’s a sheath?"
A hint of fondness softened his smile. "You’re such a damned fascinating mixture, Selina. You take me to heaven and back by riding me like you were born to service me. It makes me forget how innocent you are."
"I’m unworldly," she said with a hint of grimness, sitting up gingerly and sliding her feet to the floor. "Not innocent. There’s a difference."
This time he focused those acute green eyes on her. "Aye, you’re right. Nobody who has been through what you have could be called untouched."
"So what’s a sheath?"
"Sewn sheep gut that covers the cock and stops the seed reaching the woman."
"Ugh!" she said with a grimace. "Doesn’t it slip off at the height of…"
His grunt expressed amusement. "You tie it on with ribbons."
She couldn’t contain a giggle. "Good Lord."
"Aye, it’s quite a sight."
Selina stared down to where his organ lay flaccid. Even now, it was impressive. Brock must have noted her concentrated attention, because his rod twitched and began to harden.
She’d have thought the prospect of further congress would hold no immediate appeal after that last volcanic encounter, but even so, a spark stirred. She loved having him inside her. The degree of intimacy in their joining had astonished her. Whenever Roderick had used her, she just felt lonely and awkward. After what she’d just shared with her wicked lover, she felt like a goddess.
Brock fastened his breeches and pulled his watch from his pocket. "Later. We’re too close to the hunting lodge."
She blushed, which was absurd given she’d just passed the most abandoned hours of her life. "You’re turning me into a libertine."
He smiled at her with a lazy appreciation that only bolstered her sensual interest. "I do hope so, lassie."
Still blushing, feeling ridiculously shy, she bent to pick up her drawers then wondered what to do with them.
"Put them on," he murmured. "I want to watch you."
"Brock…"
His smile intensified. "It would give me untold pleasure to see you cover up the places that I have plans to uncover again as soon as I can."
"Very well," she said, but her hands were unsteady as she wriggled back into her drawers. Brock had to help her with the tapes. The brush of his fingers on her bare skin set off little explosions of arousal inside her. He seemed to find the experience just as titillating.
By the time he finished, they were both breathing in uneven gasps. He rested one elegant hand on her mound then released her.
"Will you help to make me decent?" she asked. "I must look like you’ve dragged me through a hedge."
His eyes appraised her with more of that unfettered approval. He could have no idea the potent effect that expression had on her. Both Roderick and Cecil viewed her as a project that required constant improvement. Whereas Brock acted as if he beheld an unparalleled masterpiece.
"I have no interest in making you decent, my darling." Another of those secret smiles. "Not when I’ve just discovered how ravishing you are when you choose to be indecent."