her in long, firm strokes that had her gasping for breath. He growled against her, the vibration bringing her up on her toes with pleasure, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Mmm,” he said against her. “Show me where you like it.”
She shook her head, the hard oak door at her back a comfort in the storm he wrought. “I don’t know,” she whispered, gasping when his tongue found a glorious spot.
He stilled, then said, his voice filled with satisfaction, “I do.”
And he did. He worked at that spot, his tongue flat against her, rubbing softly back and forth, again and again, until she felt as though she might scream from the pleasure. Until she was rocking against him, her grip holding him to her, lewd and lush.
“Please,” she whispered, unable to summon more than that word. “Please.”
And he stopped. The man stopped.
“No!” Her eyes flew open and she looked down at him. “Why?”
He didn’t reply. He was too busy looking at her. “This . . .” he said, softly, setting that wicked, wonderful finger to her. Stroking over her most private part—the part that seemed to no longer be hers, but his instead. The part she would cede to him happily if only he’d finish what he started. “. . . is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She closed her eyes at the words. “Beast—”
He leaned forward and licked her, long and lush, lingering at the bud he’d been tempting. Stopped again. “This is what I was thinking about,” he said. “This wet heat. This straining clit—so eager for me, innit?” He did look up to her then, his beautiful eyes full of heat and promise. “Aren’t you?”
Her hips moved in lieu of her answer, undulating into his touch.
That barely-there smile of his flashed. “Mmm. Wild thoughts, indeed.”
And then he resumed his kiss, spreading her wide as she pressed herself to him, and he was licking and sucking, and his wonderful tongue had her nearly—
The wall behind her moved. No. Not wall. Door.
She squeaked, her hand coming down to slap the wood behind her. He was still working at her, and she was still coiling, and there was—
A knock sounded at her ear.
She stiffened. “Stop.”
“No.” He redoubled his efforts.
She gasped at the immense pleasure, plateaued and now rising once more. “Yes,” she whispered. “There.” A delicious growl vibrated through her. Her fingers found his hair again. “Yes. Oh . . . oh, my . . . yes.”
“Oy! Beast!” the American was shouting from scant inches away, beyond the door.
He pulled away from her, growling his impatience before raising his voice to say, “Not now, American.”
Through the door, the barkeep said, “You’ve rooms of your own not one hundred yards away.”
His eyes found Hattie’s when he replied, “I was proving a point.”
And well.
A pause. Then, amused, “Sounds like there is a both of us after all, Bastard—make it quick—and bring a crate of bourbon when you come.”
Hattie’s eyes went wide. “He knows what we’re doing.”
“Mmm.” He leaned in and kissed her again, until she sighed. “Do you care?”
“Not—entirely.” She rocked against him. “More. There.”
He growled, his tongue stroking hard, in circles, firmer and tighter until he was working the place where she was desperate for him, and she was on her toes, shaking with a pleasure beyond any she’d ever felt. He was devouring her, eating her alive, and she didn’t care as long as he gave her what she—
She flew apart, her hands in his hair, her hips grinding against him, and her whispered words as wild as the sounds he made, pure sin at her core. He stayed there, on his knees, against her, gentle and firm, until she released the long breath she’d held at the end, her grip relaxing from his hair, and the strength stealing from her legs.
He caught her in his arms as he stood, one strong hand capturing her face and tilting her up to him so he could kiss her. She tasted the sweet tang of herself on his lips, and he growled when she opened for him, licking deep until she was whimpering from the pleasure of the kiss.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, it was to say, “In my wildest thoughts, I didn’t imagine you’d taste like that.”
She dipped her head, embarrassment stealing through her. And still, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Like what?”
He kissed her again. “Delicious.” It was he who was delicious, she wanted to say, but he was kissing her again, stealing the words and