He dipped the head of his cock into her wet cove, teasing them both. “More. I want you raw and wild for me. Say the words.”
“I want your cock inside my cunny.”
He groaned, his hips instinctively lurching in a shallow thrust that sent him deeper. Her wet heat engulfed him. “You want me to fill you and fuck you.”
“Yes.” Her hips shifted beneath him, undulating, bringing him deeper. “Fill me and fuck me, Robin.”
The false name should have killed his ardor, but he was too far gone to care. The reminder that none of this was real was the equivalent of a pail of water being thrown on the Great Fire of London.
No effect whatsoever.
Like that conflagration, he was aflame. Beyond control.
He thrust hard and deep. One pump of his hips, and he was seated within her.God, it was good. She felt like heaven, squeezing him in the wet grip of her cunny. He kissed her again as they moved together. She clung to him as he rode her, harder and faster. The tenderness which had marked the beginning of their lovemaking was gone.
This was a furious fuck.
And he was going to come.
It had been too long since he had lain with a woman, and the drawn-out desire between himself and Tilly—a week in the making—coupled with the way she felt beneath him, around him, her wetness, the purrs and sighs emanating from deep in her throat, the crush of her soft breasts against his chest, her hard, hungry nipples prodding his flesh… It was too much.
He told himself he would withdraw soon. One more thrust. But one more turned into ten, and when she clenched on him, her cunny tightening on his prick with such carnal splendor, he did not have the time to pull free from her body. His climax was instant and thunderous. They remained joined as his seed jetted into her.
White stars speckled his vision as she milked him, and he kept thrusting, slowly and deliciously, drawing out the pleasure for both of them. She came again, the pulses of her sex around his cock enough to make his deflating length thicken again. The blend of them—his essence united with hers—was a pure decadence he had not experienced since he had been a married man. And it was prurient and wrong, but he reveled in the intimacy of the act. For those moments, he was merely a man. Not himself. Not Adrian. And she was a woman. Not forbidden, not the bride of another. But his.
Just his.
He withdrew from her body at last and rolled to his back.
She curled against him and pressed a kiss to his neck, just above his madly racing pulse.
Chapter 6
You will agree to the requirements outlined in this letter. Failure to do so will result in your forfeit of the ten thousand pounds. Your secrecy is paramount. To that extent, you must introduce yourself, and at all times answer to Mr. Robin Carstairs, one nephew to the Duke of Longleigh.
~letter from the Duke of Longleigh to Mr. Adrian Hastings
The gardens at Coddington Hall were nothing short of palatial, but unlike the immense, opulent interior of the home, the plein-air did not retain nearly as much pretension. It was one of Tilly’s favorite places to be whenever she was in residence. But never had she enjoyed the beauty of the space before as much as she did now, with Robin at her side.
They walked through the boxwood maze, their fingers linked. The day was once more doused with sunshine, the air ripe with the freshness of summer flowers in bloom and freshly mown grass and various flora. She was wearing one of her aesthetic dresses once more, simple of form, no corset required. Her headwear was far less grand than the one she had worn on the boat that day, the brim just broad enough to shield the sun.
Then, she was not certain she needed a hat at all.
Robin liked her freckles. All the time they had been spending exploring the park together had turned her skin golden, and Robin liked that, too.
“A man could get lost in this bloody wilderness,” he commented lightly at her side.
He was dressed informally in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat and country tweed, and he was as ridiculously handsome as ever. There was no hat upon his head, for he had told her he preferred the warmth of the sun shining on him to the shade of a gentlemanly brim. And she could not deny that she liked looking upon him, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling at her, brimming with mischief and seduction.
It was a potent, heady combination.
“It is hardly a wilderness,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze.
Here in the haven of the maze, they could be far freer with each other. Yet another reason to spend most of their time out of doors. There were no servants in danger of interrupting a forbidden kiss or touch.
Or more.
And in the days following their first incendiary night together, there had been plenty of opportunity for more. Whether it was the knowledge their affair possessed a finite end or the force of their mutual attraction, they had been desperate for each other, making love more than once a day.
