His eyes widened. “Rosalinde, are you saying you want to—”
She nodded even as she made a strangled sound. “I want to taste you.”
He swallowed. Most ladies did not wish such a thing. But this was no average lady. This was sweet and passionate Rosalinde, who, as Celia had said, led with her heart in all things. Gave of herself completely.
And he selfishly wanted to take. To let everything good about her bleed into his empty spaces until he was somehow whole again.
He let his trembling hands drop to his trouser waist and unfastened the rough fabric. She slid her hands beneath, her hands warm on his flesh. He hissed out pleasure as she shoved the trousers away and left him as naked as she was.
“Sit?” she asked, motioning him to the soft chair near the fire.
He moved toward it, taking his seat without looking away from her. She drew in a long breath, like she was readying herself, and then slowly moved to her knees before him. She scooted forward, forcing him to open his legs, to create a space for her to rest.
And then they froze. Her gaze was locked on his, her cheeks were flushed, her hands shaking as her fingers moved on him. He waited, not breathing, not thinking, not focused on anything but how she closed her fist around his already hard and ready length.
They both eased out a long breath at the touch, and Gray couldn’t help when his eyes fluttered shut. She began to gently pump her hand over him, her grip just right, her movements perfect. Already he felt close to spending and she had just begun. He tried to think of other things, to wait, but he felt her hot breath on the sensitive head of his erect cock and he couldn’t help but moan.
“Rosalinde,” he began, uncertain what to say, whether to warm her off or order her to take him.
She took the decision from his hands swiftly enough when her lips closed over him and her tongue swept the thick length of him gently.
He made a low sound deep in his chest that was hardly human, hardly recognizable, and he felt her smile against him as he opened his eyes. She was looking up at his face even as she lowered her mouth over him, sucking until his vision blurred.
She was not practiced in this, he could tell. But it was incredible despite her innocence. Or perhaps because of it. She was driven to pleasure him, to do this even though it was foreign. That was how much she wanted him, how much she cared.
He deserved far less, but he greedily took more, tangling his fingers into her dark hair as she moved her mouth more quickly over him, around him. His balls were beginning to tighten, his seed flashing hot through him. He was going to come and he didn’t want it to be this way. Not this time. He wanted to be inside of her, to claim her even though she wasn’t his.
He caught her arms and dragged her away from his cock, pulling her up his body. She made a sound of disapproval, but didn’t fight him as he lifted her into his lap. She straddled him, her eyelashes fluttering as he eased her down over him, feeling her body accept him inch by inch.
“I wanted to finish,” she all but pouted even as her breath came short.
“Next time,” he said, even though he was certain there wouldn’t be a next time. He couldn’t allow it.
But the lie seemed to appease her, for her arms dropped around his neck and she let out a low cry as he seated himself fully inside of her. He clutched her backside, tugging her even closer until there wasn’t an inch separating them.
Then he stood. She yelped in surprise, even though her long legs came around him as if she had been trained to do so. He held tight as he carried her to his bed and settled her upon the pillows, her dark hair spanning the white fabric.
She stared up at him, her blue eyes bright and her slight smile welcoming. He was drawn in, lost in her. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he thrust gently into her welcoming body. She lifted to meet him, but he forced himself to keep his tempo slow, easy. He wanted this to last. He never wanted to let it end.
Her fingernails dug into his arms and her moans dissolved against his lips as he built her pleasure bit by bit, slow swivel by slow swivel. Finally she let out a soft cry, turning her head as her body pulsed around him in orgasm. He watched her through the crisis, memorizing how her face twisted and her flesh grew pink with pleasure.
She went limp against his pillows and he chuckled. He felt so damn close to coming, but that would end this encounter. He didn’t want that. So he withdrew, though it was almost physically painful to do so.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, gripping at his arms.
He shook his head. “I’m not finished,” he promised. “Far from it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gray said nothing more, even when Rosalinde repeated his name. At least, she did until her breath was stolen by pleasure. Gray dragged his mouth down her throat, her chest. He paused at her right breast, laving her nipple until her back arched and she gripped the coverlet beneath her with both hands. This man was magic, pure magic, and he had woven a spell over her that she feared could never be broken. She would be his forever, a part of her never able to let go of these stolen moments, stolen kisses, stolen nights.
Gray smiled against her skin, his dark gaze coming up to hold hers, taunting and teasing. She reached down and touched his rough cheek.
“Please,” she murmured, not knowing exactly what she was pleading for.
“Please you?” he suggested. “Oh, I shall. Don’t you worry.”
“I was never worried,” she croaked.
