Sea of Ruin - Pam Godwin Page 0,95

my legs were shifting, readjusting with the help of his hands. We moved together, bringing our bodies as close as possible on the chair.

I settled onto his hard, powerful thighs, straddling his hips—all of which gave his mouth better access to mine.

With my fingers in his hair, and his arms holding me tight, he kissed me through vast, unexplored eternities.

I poured everything into the union. Every part of me filling with heat and giving it back to him ten-fold. He mated with my mouth as though the connection was all he wanted, all he needed. I sank into his passion, welcoming his hard body between my legs as he rotated his hips and ground against my aching.

He felt wonderful, so solid and male and him, the man I’d slept next to for a week. I flicked my tongue against his, whirling, teasing, tasting the sky and the sea and every desire between.

“Touch me.” He panted against my mouth, his hand sliding down the front of my stays.

His lips feasted, and his palm covered my breast, encouraging me to explore.

I didn’t slow at setting my fingers upon the muscled meat of his abdomen, but glided my touch downward, reaching into the space between our spread legs. There, I clutched his throbbing response.

“Christ.” His sharp grunt fanned against my lips, and his hand tightened on my breast.

Holy mother, he was enormous. I traced the swollen outline through his breeches, following the hard curve along his thigh. The length of him stretched from my wrist to my fingertips and farther still. He was thick, too. Thick enough to feel for days after he impaled it.

“Are you pleased?” He grasped my arm, holding my hand against his erection.

“What?” I didn’t like the sudden clip in his tone or the meanness in his grip.

“Does the size of my hunger meet expectations?”

“Exceeds, I should think.” I pulled on my arm. “If you unhand me, I’ll show you my appreciation.”

His fingers opened, and I lifted my hand to cup his face.

“You feel incredible, Ashley.” I searched the chilling blue of his eyes. “Not just the hard parts of you. But the tender ones.” I leaned in and tasted his full sweet lips. “I find your softest parts the most pleasing.”

His gaze warmed, his chiseled features losing their sharp edges as he kissed me back. He molded his hands around the back of my head and rubbed his mouth against mine, watching me between the unhurried, languid rolling of our joined tongues.

Magic pulsed between us, producing marvels with every touch. My entire being assimilated to the harmony of his, joining us on a level neither of us understood. I knew he felt it. He wore the thunderstruck look of a man who was sinking fast and forgot how to swim.

The temperature of our licking grew hotter, more carnal, and soon the air dripped with fire, spitting sparks across my skin. I wanted to slow it down, to savor the moment and capture the intimacy.

With my hands framing his face, he mirrored my pose, holding me the same way. We lingered in that embrace, kissing, sharing eye contact, as hidden forces bound us closer and tighter together.

Until he pushed back.

His arms fell to his sides, and something snapped between us, twisting a dark, helpless feeling within me. Slowly, our connection frayed and broke. A wall went up, emptying his expression. Then he shoved me off his lap and onto my knees.

“Unlace my breeches and take me out.” He rose from the chair, towering over me. “Don’t make me wait.”

Kneeling at eye level with the erection straining beneath the fabric, I knew what this was. Detachment under the guise of possession. The ugly kind of possession that had no obligation or respect for the object possessed.

A cold sensation, wrapped in hurt, knotted in my belly. I wasn’t prepared for the humiliation. Wasn’t prepared for my body’s trembling betrayal or the tears that swarmed my eyes and cascaded down my cheeks.

He reached down and caught a droplet with his finger. “What’s this for?”

“I don’t want us to be like this.” I flung him a sharp look, and more tears fell. “I don’t want to be your whore.”

I was ruining everything, sabotaging my own plan.

He rubbed my tear between his fingers, studying me with a tedious mien of righteousness. At length, he gripped me under the arms and set me on the chair. Then he disappeared into the aft cabin.

My stomach sank as I cursed my foolish, irrational behavior. What the hell

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