A Knight of Passion - By Tarah Scott Page 0,14

the sure, long strokes. Her channel walls tightened.

For so long she had only pretended pleasure. Sir Bryant roused more, whispered a voice. The man whose fingers fucked her cunt was almost as large as the knight. Could he rouse passion in her? Might this task be pleasant? She closed her eyes, but instead of the warden, she saw Sir Bryant’s emerald green eyes, dark with passion as they had been only a few hours ago. The warden thrust his finger deeper inside her.

Had those hours with the knight been a taste of what could have been, God's punishment for not being strong enough to resist the duchess’ threats? When faced with one’s sister being defiled by the Duke of Arundel, blind faith had a sting the priests failed to mention.

The warden inserted a second finger inside her and quickened the thrusts while sucking harder on her nipple. Riana gasped. He shifted his mouth to the other nipple. She moaned, reaching deep for the pleasure that had come so easily with Sir Bryant. She became aware of the warden’s shaft, hard, insistent, rubbing against her mound.

Riana reached down and brushed her fingertips across the velvety tip. He groaned and grasped the hand touching him. His fingers closed over hers as he wrapped them around his warm shaft and thrust into them. He broke off from her nipple and covered her mouth with his. Riana twined her free arm around his neck, drew him close until his chest pressed her breasts flat beneath the steely muscle.

He flicked his tongue against her mouth and she opened for him. He plunged inside and their tongues twirled, his thrusts in time with his fingers inside her. She sucked his tongue hard and stretched his cock tight with the downward motion of her hand around him. He groaned, working his fingers faster, harder. She worked him faster, harder.

Who was this man? Her heart squeezed and shame washed over her. She didn’t even know his name. He thrust into her palm, his rod hard and thick. The rhythm of his fingers faltered and his body spasmed with pleasure. His seed filled her hand. His hand covered hers and squeezed his cock harder. He froze for an instant, then relaxed. He didn’t move for a long moment. When he released her hand, he gently wiped her fingers clean on his tunic, then braced himself over her, and stared.

“Perhaps you are worth risking the hangman’s noose.”

“Sir!” a man shouted on the other side of the doorway.

The warden’s head snapped in the direction of the door.

“Out of my way, fool,” came another male voice.

Riana bolted into a sitting position. “Sir Bryant.”

Chapter Eight

Bryant took in the sight of Riana sitting naked on the desk, her shocked expression as she stared at him over her shoulder—and the man who stood between her thighs. Fury raced through him like a bed of red hot coals. He reached for his sword and started forward. Strong fingers clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him back.

Sir Dunbar stepped up beside him and whispered, “He could not know.”

Blood pounded thunderously through Bryant’s head, but he forced his fingers to relax on the sword hilt.

He locked his gaze with the warden’s. “Take your hands off my betrothed.”

Shock flashed in the man’s eyes in unison with Riana’s gasp. His gaze snapped to her, and doubt flickered across his face. Bryant took three steps to where her clothes lay on the floor, scooped up the dress, and tossed it onto the desk.

“Clothe yourself.”

The warden stepped back and Bryant was surprised to see his cock wasn’t hanging from his hose. Had he arrived before it was too late?

Too late? What was too late? Even if the man had fucked her, Bryant would bathe every inch of her, then kiss her, touch her, suck her, until she understood that anything she’d experienced with this stranger couldn’t compare to what he could do for her. Bryant shifted his gaze to her to find her staring at him. She hadn’t budged.

“Clothe yourself,” he ordered again.

Her eyes narrowed. “I have no need of another master.”

“Mayhap you should do as your future husband suggests,” the man said.

Her head jerked back in his direction, then she looked back at Bryant. “I have business here, sir.”

“I am well aware of your business,” he replied.

Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet and faced him, marbled nipples jutting from her swollen breasts. Lust shot through Bryant.

“By God,” Dunbar burst out. “I see the attraction.”

“Did the duchess send