When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,106
skin pebble beneath his tongue.
The psalter dropped to the floor.
She tugged the tie from his hair, threading her fingers through the wild curls and breathing, “Make love to me.”
“Messalina,” he whispered, his voice sounding desperate, his lips moving to the base of her throat.
She was trembling—with need. With hope and love.
She cradled his face between her hands, making him raise his head, and looked at him. His lips were reddened, his black eyes wild. “Gideon. Please.”
“Yes.”
His hands actually shook as he pulled at the tie to her wrapper.
But then he dipped his head, catching her nipple through the thin lawn of her chemise.
All thought fled her mind.
He suckled and all she could do was feel.
She arched beneath him, whimpering, and he switched to her other nipple. The first, covered by the wet lawn, immediately peaked further in the chill.
She shivered, but not from cold. She knew how sensitive her nipples were now and could therefore anticipate the pleasure he would give her. Her entire being seemed to be focused on those points of aching, tight skin as he sucked and licked and bit.
She moved restlessly, her center hot and melting. “Gideon,” she whispered. “Please.”
He pulled her until she lay on her back on the settee and she looked up into his black glittering eyes.
He rose again, hovering over her in the dimly lit room, a strange creature conjured by her basest longings in the night.
“Pull up your chemise,” he whispered. “Show me your body.”
A hot thrill swept through her, so strong she pressed her thighs together. She gathered the voluminous skirts of her chemise and raised them, pulling until she had them bunched at her waist.
“Higher,” he growled, his eyes on her naked body.
With trembling hands she drew the thin material up, revealing her peaked breasts.
He simply looked at her.
She felt her nipples contract even more, becoming almost painful she was so aroused.
At last he met her eyes. “Messalina.”
And though it was only her name, in his voice she could hear all he meant to say.
He knelt over her, tearing at the falls to his breeches.
She held up her heavy arms. “Come to me.”
He looked at her as if she were the key to staying alive. As if he might die if he didn’t have her in the next minute.
He finally freed his cock, big and engorged. But when he began lowering himself onto her he suddenly stopped with a bitten-off exclamation.
Her eyes widened. “Your shoulder! Perhaps we should—”
“No. If you help me…” He shifted his weight to his left hand and looked at her.
Oh. She reached between them, taking his hard penis into her hands. For a moment she simply ran her fingers up his shaft, feeling the shocking heat, the soft skin. Then she reached the top and she ran her thumb over the pearl of liquid weeping from his slit.
His penis jerked in her hands and he inhaled sharply. “Messalina…”
She smiled secretly to herself for making his voice so gravelly. Then she wrapped her legs over his hips. The fabric of his breeches felt strange against her inner thighs. She guided his manhood to her entrance, looked into his eyes as his flesh touched hers.
He returned her gaze, watching her as he nudged inside her. He seemed to be telling her something with his eyes, and her heart pounded as she wondered what it meant.
She moaned as he stretched her, slowly, slowly invading her body, making pleasure streak through her. She fought to keep her eyes open, her gaze locked with his. This act was different from the ones before. It felt nearly sacred, a joining of minds as well as bodies.
She could tell he thought the same because he stared at her with an intensity she’d never seen from him before. He flexed his hips and withdrew from her, slow and controlled.
She immediately felt the loss.
“Messalina,” he said, his voice rasping and deep as he drove into her again.
He was blunt and implacable.
She gasped, her hand to his face tracing the arch of his devilish brows.
He looked driven as he made love to her, his eyes black and glittering, lines deepening around his mouth and nostrils. And his silver scar was like a brand on his darkened face.
He might’ve been a demon come for her soul.
But he wasn’t.
He wasn’t.
She arched beneath him, mindlessly turning liquid. Heating from her center as she clutched at his shoulders. She was so close, her peak just out of her reach.