He was behind her immediately, his cloth-covered manhood a burning weight against the base of her spine. His hot words poured into her ear. "I will. But you'll have to ask for what you want. Tell me your desires, love, and I'll give them to you."
"Your cock. I want your cock inside me," she sighed.
She heard the faint rustle of material and then he was there, his blunt head nudging her swollen lips. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, rubbing against her in exquisite torment. "You make me hard, Marianne—make me want to bury myself in your lovely pussy. Where are the letters?"
Bliss spun her senses. "In the drawer… by my bed."
"Wait here. Don't move."
Anticipation jangled her nerves as she stood there, shivering and exposed. Empty and aching, living for the instant when he would return to her. Her breath puffed against the wall as her imagination soared with each sound. The drawer opening and closing. Heavy footsteps. The soft crinkling as he sheathed his cock...
Her eyes shut in ecstasy as he penetrated her. His pace was maddeningly slow. He made her feel every unyielding inch—his thick girth stretching her, filling her, making her crave more and more of him. At this angle, it seemed his manhood had no end, nudging ever closer to her deepest secrets. He kept his rhythm steady, giving her cadence after cadence of pleasure… but he did not allow her crescendo to build to that critical peak. Moisture gathered on her brow as she strained against him, silently asking for more.
"Aye, love, I'll give you what you want. But you have to trust me," he muttered at her ear.
"I do. I do," she whispered, her palms slick against silk. "God, just make me come."
In the next instant, he left her. Before she could protest, he spun her to face him, lifted her against the wall. He brought her down hard onto his shaft, and she moaned at the devastating impact. She clutched his flexing shoulders as he took all her weight, her shoulders rising and falling against the wall with his steady thrusts. Her control began to unravel as the whirling tension built, gathering in the wanton peak that throbbed for his touch.
"Give me everything. Don't hold back any longer." His eyes burned into her, his guttural command and fierce rhythm brooking no refusal. "Trust me."
Her scalp rocked against the wall as the maelstrom raged higher. As the need for relief grew and grew until there was no holding back. No resisting his intent eyes, his plunging cock, the way he kept her teetering on the precipice of release.So close.
"Kent,please." The plea scraped from her throat.
"Everything, Marianne," he said, and she knew what he wanted even as his hips twisted, making her groan. "Let go. Let me help you."
"I… I…oh God." The words broke from her as he searched out her pearl. He plucked and stroked in concert with his pistoning shaft, giving her everything she wanted. Everything she needed.A man I can trust.The last of her defenses gave way.
"My daughter. I want my Rosie back," she sobbed.
The next instant, the storm shattered within her. She flew apart, rent asunder by pleasure, by relief too potent to bear. Kent pounded into her a final time, his muscles bunching, his guttural shout filling her with euphoria. With a sigh, she let herself float gently away on the tide, warm and safe in her lover's arms.
24
Ambrose cradledhis lover close in the bed, stroking her hair as she slept. Her breathing had the deep, even quality of a babe's. His arms tightened protectively around her, his chest aching with the knowledge that the woman dozing in his arms had suffered entirely too much.
Marianne has a daughter.
She'd guarded her secret well. From this, he surmised that her little girl had not been the product of her union with the much older Lord Draven. Had Marianne had an extramarital affair? The knot in Ambrose's chest tightened as he recalled her anguished words.
I want my Rosie back.
What kind of blackguard would be so cruel as to separate mother and daughter?
Long silken locks slid against his arm, and Marianne's thick lashes fluttered as she came awake. Her gaze wandered about the room, the drowsy quality fleeing when it encountered him. Her lips parted; roses bloomed in her cheeks.
"How are you feeling?" he said tenderly.
He knew the moment everything returned to her. Her body tensed against his, panic darkening her eyes. She struggled to get up, to flee; he kept her in place by rolling atop her, taking care to leverage his weight on his arms.
"Don't go," he said quietly. "Not yet. Talk to me, sweetheart."
"I've already said too much." Her voice was thick, her breathing quick and fitful as she shoved at his shoulders. "Let me go."
"Not until you tell me about your daughter."
Her tresses spilled across the pillow as she shook her head vehemently. "You don't know what you're asking. Please, just get off of me…"
