The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,75

away. The rustle of clothing reached him.

God, he wished he could see.

She shifted again, and then warm breath caressed his ear. “Put your hands on me, Winter.”

At the sound of his given name, this time, he couldn’t hold back the shudder that dissipated like lava through him. A shudder that turned into a full-on quake when his bare hands met soft feminine flesh. Her hips. Her naked hips. His greedy palm slid around the satiny curve, cupping the firm arse he’d drooled over before, her velvety skin making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“Sit,” she ordered, pushing a palm to the center of his chest and urging him back into the seat behind him. Hell, he loved the sound of her voice. Her breathy commands. And then she straddled him, thighs bracketing his. Fuck this charade, he had to see her. Had to take her in.

Winter reached up to remove the blindfold.

“Take it off and this ends,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase as she settled her weight over him.

“Isobel, please.”

“No,” she said. “I barely saw you our first time in Chelmsford, I had to feel. That’s all you get now.”

This was it, he really was going to die.

But he didn’t die.

Not when she slid down onto him with a gasping moan, working his entire straining length into her ready warmth. Not when she began to move with short, erratic movements that told him she was as flustered as he. Not even when he had to force himself to think of anything—puppies, vicars, estate accounts—to not spill his seed instantaneously.

“How much do you want this?” she whispered.

“Badly,” he grit out.

His cruel wife rose and stilled, hovering over his tip. “Then beg for it.”

“Please,” he groaned, mindless with pleasure as she swirled her hips, teasing him like the ruthless lover she was. Christ, she felt fucking glorious. The sensation of her body owning his, taking him inside and grasping him there, was beyond anything his frenzied dreams could have ever conjured. He’d fantasized about the heated clench of her body for years, been tortured by the excruciating push and pull between them these last weeks, but the reality was beyond imagining. He wanted to be lodged deep within her where he belonged. The latter part of the thought bludgeoned him, but he shoved it away before he could think too deeply on what it meant. It’d been in the heat of the moment, that was all.

She halted. “I’m not actually sure that you want this, Winter.”

“I do. Use me. Fuck me. Please.”

He could sense her gratification as she sank down like the tightest glove. It was heaven. With his sight taken away, all he could do was feel. She lifted and then drove down again. The clench of her body surrounded him like wet silk, her slick channel gripping and releasing him with every pass. His hands went up to fill themselves with her breasts, grazing over the hard buds and pinching them. Her gasp was his gift, make her speed up her movements.

But Winter could only let her take control for so long. His hand slid to her back, climbed the knots of her spine and drew her body down to his until her breasts rubbed against the hair on his chest. His mouth found hers unerringly, licking into those delicious depths and finding that brazen tongue. He kissed her as she rode him, slowing her pace and drawing it out.

He would make every minute of this exquisite torture last.

Return the favor.

“Winter,” she moaned against his lips, rearing back to pleasure herself against his groin at every downstroke, grinding against him. He wished he could see her face, but he could only imagine it. Head thrown back, lips parted, skin flushed with arousal. He slid his thumb down her soft belly to the apex of her sex, her keening cry his only warning before her body shivered and broke around his in powerful waves.

“Fuck!”

And then he was there with her, a scant moment later, chanting her name and growling like a feral beast as he yanked himself free to spend on his belly.

In the aftermath, they panted against each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually, Isobel moved to shift off of him. Cool air settled upon the damp skin of his abdomen, and Winter reached up to remove the blindfold. By the time his eyes adjusted to the light from the lamps, Isobel had already donned her trousers