Ah, hellfire. He was going to die if he couldn’t move. She was there, kissing the head of his cock, beckoning with her hot wet cunny. But if this was to be all they had, he intended to wring everything from her that he could.
He teased her entrance, then withdrew, rubbing himself up and down her slit. “Tell me. Say my name.”
“Theo,” she gasped out, hips circling, seeking. “I want you inside me.”
And then she surprised him by reaching behind her with her right hand and grasping his wrist, urging him on. Showing him with her actions as well as her words just how desperately she needed him. The feeling was mutual.
“Brace yourself on the bed,” he warned. “I’m not a gentle man.”
Gentleness was no longer in him. But he would take care with her. He would see to her pleasure. Still, this would be no meek and mild coupling, and he wanted her to know it.
“If I wanted a gentleman, I wouldn’t have chosen you,” she said, clearly mistaking his words.
But that was well enough. He wasn’t gentle, and nor was he a gentleman. He was a law unto himself, a man of shadows and darkness, forever running from the past, belonging nowhere and to no one.
And he liked her words. Liked that she had chosen him, of the many lords and dandies she no doubt could have had, as her first lover as a widow. He was humbled that a proud woman like her, so proper and careful in her mannerisms and dress, would not just choose him but want him. Desire him. Need him, even.
Her hand returned to the bed, fingers splayed. He nudged her legs a bit wider, notched his cock to her beckoning cunny, and slid inside. One fast, hard thrust, and he was fully seated, so deep inside her. The momentum carried them both onto the bed, her feet leaving the floor as he covered her body with his, pinning her to the mattress. Theo buried his face in her hair, breathing deep as he struggled to regain possession over himself.
But it was difficult. Damned difficult.
She was all tight, silken heat, so deliciously wet, gripping him so hard he thought he might explode after just one pump. He regained his footing, withdrawing from her slightly, his hands finding her lush hips and holding her to his liking. Another thrust, and she cried out.
Loudly.
The sound was throaty and steeped in ecstasy too long denied, and there was no doubt that if anyone overheard it, they would know exactly what was happening within the widowed Marchioness of Deering’s bedchamber. That wouldn’t do. Theo cared for her far too much, and he knew she guarded her reputation fiercely.
“Hush,” he murmured, almost reverting to Boritanian. To the word forprincess.
He was so lost in her, so far gone, that he had nearly forgotten himself. But the name suited her. It was right. It felt right.
And she felt right.
So right.
Fate had brought them together.
“You’ll bring the house down upon us,” he crooned into her ear, reminding her, reminding himself.
He kissed her cheek, the corner of her lips. She turned her head and kissed him too, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, and like every other exchange between them, Theo couldn’t be sure who was seducing whom.
He had to move.
Without breaking their kiss, he rolled his hips, using short, quick thrusts. In and out, quick and hard. He had warned her he wouldn’t be gentle, but she was meeting him halfway, using her balance on the bed to move in time with his hips, bringing him deeper. She was slippery, her cunny clenching on him with such delicious pressure that she nearly squeezed him out.
Pamela moaned into the kiss, and he realized she hadn’t come yet. But she was close. He glided his hand from her hip to her mound, parting soft curls to find what he sought. The throbbing bud was sleek and hot. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, fucking her faster, deeper. Kissing her, his own breaths as ragged as hers.
He played with her clitoris, listening to her cues, strumming harder when she moaned into his mouth and her tongue slid almost drunkenly against his. By some sheer miracle of determination, he remained on his feet, cock sliding rhythmically through her wetness, hand working her nub, mouth feasting on hers.
She spent with a strangled cry that he swallowed, her cunny clamping on his cock so hard that little black stars dotted his vision. In his former life, he had always bedded his lovers with his eyes closed. But he wanted them open now. He didn’t want to miss a single second of making her his.
When the last ripple of pleasure had been wrung from her, she partially collapsed to the bed, all without ending the kiss. He plunged in and out of her. Again. Again, so close, one more time, and…
“Pamela,” he growled against her lips.
And then he jerked his mouth from hers and withdrew from her body, gripping his cock hard as he spent, his seed shooting across the perfect, creamy skin of her bottom as his heart pounded in his ears.
CHAPTER11
