His eyes widened. “Are you intending to…”
She nodded. “Oh yes. Most definitely.”
He moved so fast that his cock bounced out of her hand. She laughed at his ardor and he smiled down at her in turn. It was such a remarkable thing that even in the midst of what was a fraught, emotional situation in every way, he could make things so…easy. The only person in her life to have ever done so.
She pivoted, settling herself onto his chest so that she faced his cock. He smoothed a hand over her bare arse before he grabbed her hips and maneuvered her.
“Oh, this is a fine view,” he drawled. “You arse-up in my lap, that sweet little pussy just perfect for devouring.”
“Then devour away, Cam,” she murmured. “If you can maintain enough focus.”
She lowered her mouth to him and swirled her tongue around his length. He swore loud and long, but then he wrapped an arm around her hips to hold her in place, spread her open with two fingers, and licked her in return.
She bucked back and he laughed. “Oh, we’ll see who can focus.”
They were silent after that, both giving everything they had to pleasing the other. As he nipped and licked and sucked her clitoris, she swirled her tongue around him, taking him as far as he would go into her throat. She was drunk on his taste, addled by the way he tensed beneath her. And addled in return by his expert mouth. He knew every route to her pleasure. They were well-traveled roads for him by now and he didn’t neglect a one. Soon she was bucking back, sucking him with less finesse as the waves of pleasure increased and then overwhelmed.
She moaned around him and then let him fall from her lips. Pleasure bordered on pain as he tormented her, lapping her up like she was the finest wine, forcing her to give and give until she flopped down against his legs, still shaking from release.
She fought to catch her breath, to refocus on doing to him what he’d just done to her. But before she could, he caught her hips and flipped her over onto her back. He shifted over her, pushing his hips between her thighs.
“Oh, Cam, I wanted to?—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “But I need this. I need you.”
There was something so real in that statement. So true. He needed her. And there was no way she could ever deny him. She didn’t want to.
“Ready for me?” he whispered, always seeking consent no matter what she had already willingly, enthusiastically surrendered. Yet another thing to adore about him.
She pulled him in for a kiss, tasting her release on his tongue. “All my life,” she murmured back.
His kiss deepened at that admission. They both knew what she meant, even if she couldn’t say the words he wanted to hear. The words she knew would hurt him as much as they pleased him.
He shifted and the hard head of him nudged her. She lifted and he took her in one slick slide. He gathered her closer, clutching her like she was something precious he never wanted to lose. He delved deep into her still-quivering body, his hips rolling against hers, hitting her sensitive clitoris with each thrust. She met him, moaning his name over and over between kisses as the pleasure he had just given rose all over again. This time quicker and sharper thanks to her earlier release.
When she came, he pulled back, watching her as she writhed beneath him. There was no show this time, no playful teasing with her reactions as she’d done at the beginning of this night. No, there was no choice but to give everything to him then, all that she was, all that she had.
It was only when the waves shortened, when her breath slowed a fraction that he dropped his forehead to hers and thrust a little harder. This was for his pleasure now, finally after all he’d given. She gripped him with every thrust, trying to return what she’d received. She felt him balance on the edge and then he fell, gloriously, powerfully, with a roaring cry that seemed to shake the very room.
For a brief moment, she wished he would come inside of her. Fill her with himself, merge them entirely. But he didn’t. He withdrew and spent between them. He collapsed over her, his breath shaky against her skin.
She held him close in the quiet dark, smoothing his flexing muscles, their panting breaths matching at last. After a little while, he rolled off, gathering her close to hold her. Little by little, she felt his breathing shift. Slow. And soon she realized he was asleep.
She lifted her head to make sure of it and found his eyes closed, his handsome face relaxed. Younger somehow, like his troubles had eased in his dreams. After all they’d been through, all they’d done, all he had yet to face, of course he was exhausted. She settled her head back against his chest and rested her hand on his flat stomach.
“Ripley,” she said softly, then shook her head. “Cam. I love you, too. I love you.”
He didn’t stir, which was by design, of course. She could only confess the truth of her heart when she knew he wouldn’t be able to respond. When she wouldn’t stir whatever hopes he had that could only cause him heartache in the end.
But she had to say that she loved him. And she had to hope she loved him enough to save him in the end. Even from herself.
CHAPTER 17
The next morning, Ripley sat in the parlor of a home he’d ridden by over the years, casting side glances at its fine pillars and white stone facade, wondering who stood behind its windows, but never stopped at. His father’s home. Or one of them. The Earl of Pottinger had several, of course. His grandfather, the duke, even more.
And all while Ripley’s mother had lived in her little house, mourning the loss of a love that had been so cruelly snatched from her. Eventually dying with Pottinger’s name on her lips.
The hatred Ripley felt was like a fire in his chest and it was only Jane’s gentle hand in his that controlled it. She smoothed a thumb along the top of his hand.
