Notorious (Rebels of the Ton #1) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,75

but did not close.

“God, yes . . . just like that.”

Drusilla looked at her hand and blinked: yes, he really was as big as he felt.

His hand covered hers and tightened. “Like so.” He squeezed far harder than she would have believed comfortable, and stroked, from root to tip. He groaned, repeating the motion several times before removing both their hands.

Drusilla frowned. Why had he taken her hand away? She’d just begun to—

“Will you remove my robe?”

She looked from the intriguing bulge to his taut, expectant face and swallowed yet again as she reached for the sash with fingers that trembled with anticipation, rather than fear. A quick tug and the fine fabric slid open. Skin like silk stretched over muscles that were impossibly sculpted and defined. Auburn hair lighter than that on his head dusted his chest, with darker curls at the base of his . . .

“Oh.”

He made a sound of amusement. “Oh, indeed.” His fingers threaded into her hair, and he tilted her face upward. His lips had thinned and were curved in a tight smile, his green eyes black. “Do you like what you see?” His gaze dropped to her throat as she swallowed. And then swallowed again.

“Yes.” The word was a dried husk and his pupils flared.

“Let me in beside you.”

She scooted away from the edge of the bed, and the mattress moved as he lowered himself.

“Ahhh, that feels so good,” he said, stretching out on his side, facing her. Lines of strain radiated from the corners of his brilliant eyes, and the grooves that ran from the side of his nose to his mouth seemed to be deeper. She recalled he’d not slept for at least a full day, and an unexpected wave of tenderness washed over her.

She pulled the covers up over them both, and he smiled. “Thank you for protecting my modesty.”

Her face heated at his gentle teasing. “You are so tired. Are you sure—”

He stroked her hair, shaking his head. “I’m not too tired for this. I am never too tired for this.” His hand slid lower, over her jaw, resting at the pulse point on her throat. “I want to be inside your body.”

She stared.

His hand caressed her side, his thumb lightly grazing her breast, making her shudder. He leaned forward, pushing aside the blankets and exposing her, his lips finding one of her painfully hard nipples. He rolled her onto her back while he knelt over her, straddling her on his hands and knees, his mouth never stopping its teasing, licking, kissing.

One hand lowered over her belly and circled softly, the way she had often rubbed one of the many kitchen cats over the years. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, trying to bite back the sounds spilling out of her as he stroked and petted; no wonder cats made that purring sound.

And then his fingers slid lower.

He lightly grazed the swell of her midriff, not stopping until he reached her mound. Drusilla’s hips quivered, making her realize she’d lifted them off the bed and was thrusting toward him. He parted her curls with a finger, and her body shook as he stroked between her lips.

He continued his caressing, applying a bit more pressure with each pass, her hips straining more and more.

He groaned, the sound one of near pain. “So hot and wet.”

His words caused the ache that was growing between her thighs to throb.

His finger circled her entrance, lightly probing, but not breaching her. She spread her thighs as she pushed toward him, willing him to touch her . . . there.

But he chuckled and teased.

“Please. ”

He paused, making her realize she’d spoken her thought aloud.

“What was that, Drusilla? I did not hear you.”

She could see by his wicked, wicked smile that he was lying.

She didn’t care.

“Please,” she begged, frustration and want overwhelming shame.

“Please what?”

But she couldn’t form the words.

His finger slid to the apex of her thighs, lightly brushing a spot so sensitive her hips bucked. “This?”

A guttural cry slipped from between her lips when he stopped.

She screwed her eyes shut. “Please, Gabriel.” The words were almost a sob.

“Shhhh, ya helo. I want to make you suffer, but you beg me so prettily.” He chuckled evilly. “I’ll give you what you need.” His fingers began to move in languid but rhythmic circles.

Drusilla almost wept with gratitude, her hips pulsing and pushing against his hand so hard the blankets began to slide back. She didn’t care. Her body was shaking and quivering as it had