“I don’t care.” Henry pushed her legs apart, adoring every perfect part of her. He tore at his trousers, released his aching cock, and thrust into her waiting wetness. His fingers sunk into the silk of her hair, honeysuckle filling his nostrils as he took her, inch by inch. Roughly. Savagely.
Emmie cried out as he filled her, head thrown back against the coverlet. Her hips met every thrust, taking all of him, until Henry was buried deep inside her. Her inner muscles fluttered against his length, struggling to adjust to him, and he nearly slowed, but the feel of her nails on his back urged him toward a more punishing rhythm. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder.
Jesus.Emmagene Stitch might just kill him.
His fingers moved between their bodies, teasing at the sensitive flesh until Emmie panted, begging for her release. Only when she cried out, arching against him, did he allow his own pleasure to overtake him. A near-violent climax of such intensity Henry felt the power of it to the tips of his toes.
“Emmie.”
Chapter Ten
Emmagene opened hereyes to the canopy above the bed, heart still pounding, body throbbing as the last of her climax ebbed from her limbs. The force of their joining had pushed her across the bed. He lay atop her, his large body firmly wedged between her hips.
“Emmie,” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek. “Are you well?”
She blinked at him.
“Oh, good. I was afraid you’d fainted.” He brushed her lips with his, carefully leaving her and relieving Emmagene of his weight. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Quite the contrary. Emmagene felt absolutely marvelous. She’d never been taken with quite so much ferocity before and regretted not one moment.
The bed creaked as he stood.
Emmagene shut her eyes. He would leave now, she supposed. The sound of clothing rustling filled the room. She waited for him to bid her good night, but the door never clicked. Instead, she heard his heavy tread moving about the room. Her eyelids fluttered open.
Huntly was now completely naked, having removed the remainder of his clothing. He’d padded over to the far side of the room, where a fresh basin of water and towels sat. Firelight bathed the lines of his body, glancing over the curve of his buttocks and the heavily muscled thighs.
He turned and winked at her, a towel in his hand.
The heavy, broad torso was covered with dark-blonde hair along with lines of rippling sinew. Huntly’s stomach wasn’t completely flat but sported the tiniest of paunches, keeping him from masculine perfection. His cock jutted from a nest of hair between his thighs, still half-aroused.
Emmagene stared at Huntly and all his magnificent maleness, wondering how she’d survived being intimate with him. A tiny thrill ran through her at the thought of doing so again.
There was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he returned to the bed, looming over her, massive hand splaying possessively over her stomach before he pressed an openmouthed kiss on the curve of her hip. Taking the damp towel, he washed Emmagene, despite her protests, all the while grazing her hips and thighs with his teeth. When he finished, he tossed aside the towel and trailed his lips along the inside of her thigh, nipping gently at her skin. The tip of his nose nuzzled against her mound, the gesture intimate and incredibly erotic.
Emmagene’s pulse skipped in an unsteady rhythm. “Huntly—”
He tossed her leg over one massive shoulder. “Henry.” His tongue trailed through her folds. “I think it would be appropriate for you to use my first name, Emmie. Under the circumstances.”
She looked down at his shaggy tarnished-gold head of hair nestled between her thighs.
“Henry,” she stuttered as he lowered his mouth once more, tongue teasing at the small bit of flesh that throbbed and ached for his touch. A low purr left her, the sound of slowly unwinding pleasure.
“So responsive,” he murmured against her thigh. “So beautiful.”
His thumb teased along her slit, all the way to the back, pressing and testing.
She jerked at the slight, foreign touch.
He chuckled softly against her, turning his hand to cup her buttock, the sensation retreating. “The things I will do to you, Miss Stitch.”
Frankly, Emmagene couldn’t wait. The things he was doing to her now were so painfully blissful she thought she might actually faint this time. She threaded her fingers through his thick curls and stretched her hands across his skull, pulling at his hair.
“Right here?” he whispered, allowing his words to vibrate against the sensitive, swollen nub.
A whimper was her answer.
He toyed endlessly with her, drawing Emmagene to the edge of her release and then pulling back, until she clawed at his shoulders. When he sucked her completely into his mouth, teeth ever so gently grazing her swollen flesh, Emmagene broke into pieces. She turned her head, screaming out her release into the pillow. The tremors still rippled across her skin when he notched himself again between her thighs.
