The trace of beard that darkened his cheeks was rubbing her raw. Tomorrow she’d have scrapes all along the insides of her thighs, and she didn’t care. It felt too good to care. It was delicious. As was everything else he was doing.
But she wanted him inside her.
Now.
She clenched one hand in his hair and tried to dislodge him. She yanked, and he reached up with his one free hand and gripped her wrist, tight.
Her climax was almost upon her. Her feet had begun to tingle. Every ounce of her being was contained in the small bit of flesh on which Dauntry was lavishing all his attention.
She gave a choked gurgle as her release swept over her and she tried not to cry out. The room flickered and went utterly black for a moment.
George took a deep, shuddering breath. She shook off his now slack grip, reached down and pulled him up to her by his hair.
This time, he came willingly, lazily retracing his route with his lips, skimming her body with his hands, taking her nightgown up and over her head. He tossed it away into the dark as she drew him up for a satisfied kiss.
George kissed him back, tongue pushing past his, and ran her hands down his back, feeling rock-hard muscles. He was holding himself back, and she didn’t want him to. She wanted the second glorious release that his body promised her, but she was loath to take the lead away from him.
Dauntry was so obviously enjoying asserting himself. And it was wonderful to simply give herself over entirely to someone else. To trust so implicitly.
He nipped at her earlobe, teased her with his lips, teeth, and tongue. George moved her hips against his, giving him just the slightest bit of encouragement. She could clearly feel the hard length of him against her mons. She brought her knees up slightly, shifting so that he was now pressed against the hot, slick folds he’d so recently been caressing. Play was wonderful, but she was done playing.
The sudden movement of her hips, and the low moan she gave as he bit her neck, were all that was needed to get him to understand her need. With the slightest readjustment he slid into her with one long, hard thrust, stifling her moan with a deep kiss.
George locked her feet behind him. Wrapped her arms around him. Held him against her as they established a rhythm. Every thrust filled her, left her gasping.
He knew exactly how to ride her, how to wind her up into a ball of pure need and desire. He gave an extra little buck of his hips at the end of each thrust, grinding into her.
She arched beneath him and flung her head back.
Ivo gave himself over to sensation. To the simple act of two bodies meeting, need and pleasure trumping all else. George was so hot, so wet, he was past coherence anyway.
If he could just keep her in bed for the rest of their lives everything would be perfect. Here, there wasn’t anything to worry about. Here, he didn’t seem to be able to do anything wrong, and anything she did that shocked him could only be to the good.
He vaguely felt her nails digging deep into his back. She was whispering softly into his ear, but the words were muffled. He changed the angle of his thrust and suddenly she was crying out beneath him, strangled, near sobs issuing from her. She clenched around him as she found her release again. The added sensation of her climaxing around him was all he need to attain his own, and with a few more deep, rocking thrusts he came and then stilled atop her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he kissed her again. A long, slow, satisfied kiss. He just wanted to lie there with her, in the small, secure confines of his room. To keep her where she was safe.
Beneath him she sighed, not sadly, but contentedly. She kissed him back, not allowing him to roll off her when he attempted to do so. She held him in place, thighs strong from years of riding, easily able to keep him where he was.
‘Aren’t I a bit heavy?’ He was crushing her down into the bed. She couldn’t be comfortable.
‘Not at all.’ She gave him a soft, lips-only kiss. ‘This is one of my favourite things in the world.’
‘Well then…’ Ivo returned to kissing her. After a few more minutes, he pulled himself off her despite her protests, reached out to twitch the bed curtains shut, and settled back in, wrapping himself around George so that they drifted off entwined, the comforter pulled up nearly over their heads.
It was barely dawn when the sound of the tweeny building the fire woke George. Her eyes snapped open, and Ivo could see the exact moment when she remembered where she was. He’d been awake for what seemed like hours. Just lying there, watching her in the dim half-light. They were lying facing one another, less than a foot apart on the pillow. He smiled and lifted one finger to her lips.
She opened her mouth and sucked his finger in, tongue moving over and around it. Ivo grimaced. She knew he couldn’t respond, not with the maid busy stoking the fire.
He’d been enjoying watching her sleep, studying the faint spray of freckles that dusted her nose, the curves of her cheekbones and lips. He’d never really seen her when she was still. George was never still. Asleep, she appeared soft, almost girlish. The illusion vanished as soon as her eyes opened. Asleep, she was merely pretty. Awake, she was magnetic.
The maid finished laying the morning fire and slipped quietly out of the room, only the
