Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,60

stoking the fire, the lust between them.

“Mmm-hmm. I think so.” She gave a wriggle and took him even deeper. “Good God.”

He chuckled, but when she finally met his gaze, the strain was evident. He was holding back, holding still, protecting her.

“Too late to retreat,” she whispered.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Blake shook his head and withdrew a fraction. “But I think we would both be more comfortable on the bed.”

Before she could argue, he swung her around and, as one, they dropped to the warm quilted top. As he leaned on his hands over her, the fire light glistening over his body, Sophie felt her first hint of panic. He was so big, he blocked out the rest of the room as his muscles corded and bunched beneath her hands as she ran them up and down, from shoulder to wrist and back again. Much the same as he did to her.

When her gaze lifted to his, he watched her, intent, unnerving. He didn’t move at all, not even a twitch. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I...” She shook her head to dispel the awful memories trying to push through the lust.

“I would never hurt you Sophie, if you want to stop, you have only to say the word.”

She linked her ankles tighter. “I don’t want you to stop, it’s just...I...”

“Spit it out, woman.”

She glared up at him. “I am always on top.”

His brows rose in question, but she shook her head. “But I actually quite like it here.”

“Only like?” came his reply. “Perhaps I need to try harder?” He withdrew almost all the way and then eased back in.

Once again he stopped her answering words with his mouth and this time she let him. Slowly, so slowly it almost hurt, he withdrew and then slid back in, the friction causing a slow burn inside her as he repeated the action over and over.

In her hazy mind, she realized he was making love to her. This was no furious coupling such that her body wanted. He was going to take his time and drive her crazy. Tears burned her eyes so she closed them, moved with him, against him. After a few minutes of the sweet torture, her body screamed for release and she needed to take control. Tensing her legs and arms, she pushed until he rolled, taking her with him.

“My methods don’t please you?” he asked with a naughty twinkle in his eye.

She leaned down and kissed him, nipped his jaw, licked the side of his neck, all the while pushing down and grinding her pelvis against his. “You might like things my way.”

She lifted, her inner muscles tensed, and then she sank down. If he could tease her by taking it slow, she could do the same.

He sat up, wrapped his arms around her and took a hardened nipple deep into his mouth, flicking the peak with his tongue until she was sorry she didn’t beg him to finish. Unless that’s what he waited for? She wasn’t ashamed. “Please, Blake.”

“You wanted control, minx.”

“Take it back. Take me.” For once, she didn’t want to be the one in control. When had he wrested that kind of trust from her?

With a growl, his arms locked behind her back and he flipped so he was once again on top, in control. The look of determination on his face sent a thrill through her. This is what she waited for.

“God, but you’re sweet,” he whispered, placing feather-light kisses along her shoulder as he withdrew and then slammed back home.

There was no time to answer, no time to argue about her sweetness, about who had control, no time for thoughts of trust or anything else as pleasure built and built inside her. It was hard enough to breathe let alone form words.

Words were unnecessary anyway. Especially between them.

* * *

Sophie’s head pounded. Her tongue lay heavy in her dry mouth. She swallowed slowly and worked to move the lump in her throat. Liquor and she had never mixed well and it seemed last night was no different. A groan next to her in the bed made her freeze to the spot, her eyes still closed. So it hadn’t been a dream? She was terrified to open her eyelids not just because she knew the light would be blinding, but what would she say to Blake?

What could she say? The only thing she knew was that she ached in places that had never ached before. Ever.

Her cheeks warmed at the memories, but even as her