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Brock closed his eyes, although he wasn’t yet ready to sleep. The sweetness was too precious to cede it to oblivion.

She turned to lie on her side with her back to him. He pulled her closer. Through her shift, his hand cupped one full breast. Her nipple peaked against his palm, and she made a drowsy sound of encouragement.

That throaty murmur made him swell against the lush curve of her rump. He’d been half-hard since coming to bed.

For pity’s sake, he was insatiable. She’d think he was a brute.

He started to pull away, but she caught his wrist and tugged his hand back to her breast. "Don’t stop," she murmured in a voice heavy with weariness.

"You’re tired," he said, hearing how half-hearted he sounded.

She must have heard it too, because she gave a low chuckle. "Not that tired. Fuck me, Brock."

It was his turn to give a weary laugh, as he buried his face in the warm tumble of hair. "Whenever you say that, I go as hard as a rock."

Her hand fumbled behind her to stroke his cock. "Good."

Under her brief caress, he closed his eyes.

"Should I move?" she asked.

"No." His voice was muffled in her hair. "We can manage like this."

He pushed down the top of her shift so he could caress her bare breast. He teased the nipple until she was gasping and bumping against him. "Oh, Brock."

His hand strayed to her hip where he scrunched her shift up, until he could work his way under it to cup her mound. He stroked her cleft until she was wet and ready, and her breath emerged in erratic gasps.

"Part your legs and tilt back toward me." Arousal roughened his voice.

She obeyed with an alacrity that fired his excitement. He caught her thigh and lifted it to give him access. He slid into her with a slick ease that shuddered through him like an earthquake. She whimpered with pleasure and pushed back, taking him deeper.

He paused, drinking in the wonder. The snug clasp of her muscles, the scent of jasmine and aroused woman that enveloped him, the slippery silk of her hair against his face. He burrowed into the cloud of hair until he kissed her nape. She trembled and released a long sigh. He skimmed his teeth across the skin and ended with a gentle bite.

"Oh!" When she tightened, heat blasted him. He started to move in leisurely thrusts, going as deep as he could and lingering at the end of each incursion.

"Brock, that’s…that’s wonderful," she murmured, placing her hand over his where he held her thigh.

"Tell me," he said in a low growl. There was something incomparably exciting about Selina saying naughty things in that precise contralto.

"Tell you?"

"Aye."

"I can hardly think when you’re inside me. Now you want me to talk?"

"I love to fuck you. I want to hear how you feel when I do."

When she shifted, the movement threatened to blast his head off. Then she began to speak. "Your…organ…"

"Cock," he said on a

groan.

She made an incoherent sound in her throat. "Your…cock is so big, I feel like you fill every inch inside me. I love it when you move. When you go fast, you make me dizzy with excitement. When you go slowly…"

He suited his actions to her words, pulling back with a gradual retreat that left her gasping.

"…I feel like we become one person. I feel like you appreciate me the way nobody ever has before. I feel like what we do extends out into…eternity."


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical