“We table our fights until we’re mutually satisfied—but guns on the side table.”
“I am satisfied with this arrangement.”
He flipped her, the action so smooth she went from being astride him to below with his body firmly settled between her thighs. “You’re not satisfied yet. But I promise, when I’m done, you will be.”
“For tonight, at least.” She dared him with the verbal challenge.
Slanting his mouth over hers, he answered the challenge with a hot, open-mouthed kiss that demanded all of her attention. His hands seemed to be everywhere. He teased her nipples, even as he ground his hips against her sex. The press of his erection was a torment, trapped behind the fabric of his slacks. Digging her nails in, she wrestled for control only long enough to free the snap on his trousers, then the zipper.
He abandoned her a brief moment, shrugging off his clothing. Rising on her elbows, she enjoyed the view of compact muscles shifting with his movement. He’d added a touch of weight to his waist, the ripped abdominals having softened.
Somehow, it made him all the more real—all the more hers.
“I’ve missed you.” Though she’d already confessed to the longing, she wanted him to know again. No more barriers between them. No more emotional demilitarized zones.
He pressed a finger to her lips. “No more, Addy. My heart can’t take anymore. I’ve waited for this moment far too long.”
The tension cording her spine relaxed, and she raised her hands to him, curling her fingers in invitation. He sheathed his cock in a condom, not wasting any time, and for that, she was grateful.
She didn’t need foreplay or teasing. They’d had years to amp their anticipation. Crawling up the bed from the foot, he pressed a kiss to her knee, then to the inside of her thigh—then to her sex. His tongue stabbed inside of her, and she closed her eyes. He didn’t linger, though he spent a moment to trace her clit in a slow, sensuous swirl before grazing his teeth across the bundle of nerves.
Shocks arced along her spine, and she let out a soft moan. The sound escaped her before she could silence it. Another slow suck, one that had her vision dimming and her body tensing, coiled on the edge, and he pulled away to kiss a path along her belly to her breasts. Every glide of his skin against hers sizzled her senses.
His lips finally brushed hers, the taste of her still on his tongue as he eased into her. The agonizing slowness of his thrust made her crazy. She longed to feel him sink to the hilt, to fill her with abandon, then to drive into her with force. But not even her groans or the encouragement of her hands on his ass hurried him along.
Inch by glorious inch, he slid into her. His tongue teased her with a thrust of its own, as though he sought to distract her from the agony of his torture.
Frustrated and anxious, she shifted her grip to his shoulders, then wrapped her legs around him. His head lifted as though he sensed what came next, but she twisted and flipped until it was his turn to be on his back.
“Demanding wench.” The growl stroked her, a caress she felt all the way to her pussy, and she lifted her chin.
“I want to ride,” she told him, even as she arched her hips, then plunged onto him with the force she’d craved. His hiss of pleasure encouraged her. His hands came to her thighs, and when she rode up this time, he helped bring her down.
“As m’lady wishes. Ride me to your heart’s content.” It shattered her, the ease of his surrender to her. She wanted to give her all to him.
In no time, they found their rhythm, and she pleasured herself riding his cock as he thrust deep within. His stamina drove her mad, but her orgasm was so close. When he pressed two fingers to her clit and gave the barest of twists, she lost all sense of balance. Her control turned to ephemera, the world brilliant as ecstasy swamped her.
Thank God for Sam. He took over, controlling her ride. With every glorious glide of friction, he sent her higher and higher. His orgasm stormed him, and with a shout of pleasure, he surged upward, wrapped her in his arms, and drowned her in his kiss.
When they finally collapsed, she trembled. The soft caress of his hand along her back quieted the blissful quivering still shaking her from the inside out.
“Better?” A veiled challenge lay within the solitary inquiry.
“Some,” she admitted, accepting the offer. “I think we can do better.”
“Agreed.” He gave her hip a light tap as he rolled free, and she ached for the loss of him. “On your knees, m’lady. I have work to do.”
For once, she didn’t argue.
Chapter 8
Sam paced the room in a slow circle, the target of his ire sitting silent and quivering in the chair.
“You’re having far too much fun with this,” Addy criticized from where she sat on the opposite side of the room. Dressed in a tailored morning suit, one leg crossed over the other, she looked perfectly rested and quite ready for the tea she had sitting before her.
“Well, looks can be deceiving, my dear,” he assured her. “I grew quite bored with this entertainment several hours ago.” With that, he turned to look again at the Earl of Bonneville. Robert Carlisle had ceased offering him money, then resorted to threats. When both proved unsuccessful, he’d settled on begging.
“I don’t know what you want from me.” The man’s voice rose half an octave. “You have the wrong person.”