Page 59 of The Trick of It

“No,” he said, shifting forward and reaching for her waist. He tugged her toward him, knocking the pelisse to the ground as he planted her firmly in his lap, groaning at the way she gasped, at the straddle of her thighs under her dress, parting around his hips. He held her there firmly, thief’s fingers digging into the soft swell of her hips and sliding the seat of her against the length of his desire. “Here.”

He didn’t let her finish her gasp or orient her vision. He dug his hand into that glorious golden hair and crashed his mouth into hers, his tongue curling out and claiming the sweetness inside her mouth, the faint lingering perfume of tea and sugar and cream. He rocked his hips again, purposefully this time, and consumed the whimper that tore from her throat, licking the taste of it before he swallowed it into his core.

He pulled back, eyes blazing as they took in her dazed face, flushed and half-lidded. He jerked his gloves off, one and then the other, tossing them to the floor with the pelisse, and then pulled her back down for more, devouring her mouth, that taunting, wicked, maddening mouth, while his hands slid along the curve of her backside, rolling her into his arousal in slow, agonizing pulses.

The dress was butter soft under his hands, bunching and caressing against their skin like more of an enhancement than a barrier. He grazed her lips with his teeth, growling into her mouth as he forced himself to steady, to take his time, to savor this the way he had intended to.

He grunted, pulling back so he could look at her, so he could remind himself exactly who it was he had in his lap in this moment, whom he was tasting and touching at his most perverse leisure. His gaze slid down her throat, his core splitting open with a new wave of warmth at the climbing tint of pink that had crawled up from between those gorgeous breasts and spiraled around her throat.

Was that for him? Was that desire for him?

“It would be so easy to slide into you right now,” he whispered to her, dragging his fingers down her throat. “I could finally satisfy an ache that’s been haunting me since I discovered want, and I think you’d like it, Seph. I think you’d let me, wouldn’t you? You’d let me untie my trousers and pull my cock out and thrust it up inside your pretty body?”

She responded only with a whimper, her hands clawing into his jacket. “Rhys,” she managed, shifting her weight, pleading without specification.

“You told me to say anything,” he reminded her. “Whatever came to mind. That is what’s on my mind, but I’m not going to do it, Seph. I’m not going to take you right now.”

She blinked with some effort, her lashes weighing her shiny, rouged eyelids down as she took in his face, memorized his eyes, lingered over his mouth. “Why not?”

“Because when you’ve waited this long for something,” he told her, wrapping his hand gently around the thin column of her throat before fanning his hand out as he slid it down, exploring the bounty of her cleavage, “you want to do it right. Did you pack those ropes?”

She nodded, licking the taste of him from her bottom lip, chewing on it.

He shuddered, giving a broad, one-handed squeeze to her bust. “Good.”

They both looked down, watching as he touched her like this, as he filled his hands and fingers, stroking and squeezing, their breath thin and harmonized.

“Tell me how you like to be taken,” he said, pressing forward to taste her mouth again. “Tell me what you like, how to unmake you.”

She hesitated, gasping in three shallow draws of breath, and shaking her head.

It made him smile against her mouth. “Go on, Seph. You said you wanted to talk. Talk.”

“I don’t know what I want …” she managed, gasping and wriggling in his grip. “I haven’t done this before. There’s never …”

He paused, drawing back slowly, his hand going still against her heartbeat. She looked caught, wide-eyed and pinched, her breath held captive in her lungs while he stared at her in disbelief. “That can’t be true,” he rasped, wrapping a hand around her waist to pull her tighter. “How could that be true?”

She sighed heavily, stopping and slapping her hands against his shoulders. “Does it matter?! Right this very instant?!”

“Yes!” he said, trying not to laugh at the collision of dazed desire and sincere annoyance on her face. “I would have never said such filthy things to a virgin!”

She inhaled very, very slowly through her nose, her eyes narrowing. “Right,” she said, attempting to tumble off of him, blustering in outrage when he refused to let her budge. “Rhys!”

“Seph!” he mocked. “Answer me! I don’t understand. How could no one have ever even tried with you looking the way you—”

“Plenty tried,” she squeaked, slapping at his arms uselessly. “I declined!”

“You were never even tempted to—ow!” he hissed, snatching his arm away briefly to shake off a pinch she’d given the skin, then shooting it back around her before she could do anything clever. “Be still!”

“No!” she snapped, but she sagged, anyway, her limbs going slack. “Of course men tried. Traveller girls are supposed to be the easiest prey in the forest, after all. It is not a characterization that makes one feel particularly desired for oneself, rather than as a … Well. As a ready port in the storm, as it were.”

She was averting her eyes from him, her cheeks red, clearly waiting for him to laugh or riposte or tease.

When he didn’t, her gaze snapped back to him impatiently and she huffed. “I’ve been busy!”

He did smile then, slow and curling and incredulous. “‘Busy,’” he repeated, giving an immediate laugh when she swatted him. He gathered her closer, pleased she was starting to squirm again, that she hadn’t withered entirely away, and he nuzzled against the bare curve of her throat, inhaling that warm scent she was wearing. “This raises many new questions,” he murmured against her skin.

“No, it doesn’t,” she protested half-heartedly, sighing into the sensation despite herself.