been too long since he had last pleasured her, and she did not last. She came gloriously, crying out, her fingernails digging into his shoulders through the silk of his banyan.
He rose to his full height and claimed her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue as he kissed her. They fell into the bed together, and he worked his way to her beautiful breasts, sucking, licking, and nipping, while he played with her cunny. Slipping a finger deep, then another, working and stretching her. Toying with her pearl until she spent again.
At last, he guided his cock to her entrance. “I love you, Felicity Winter.”
“Oh,” she said on a moan, body arching from the bed as he entered her in one swift thrust. “I love you too. So much.”
They came together, her sheath tightening on him, the white-hot desire taking him by surprise. Heat licked up his spine, and he exploded, burying himself to the hilt and filling her with his seed.
Breathless, boneless, and mindless once again, he collapsed against her, reveling in the tandem pounding of their hearts, the closeness of their bodies, the intimacy of skin on skin. Her arms went around him, holding him tight.
He had found the place where he belonged. With this woman.
Nothing had ever felt so real, and nothing had ever felt so right.
She was his, and he was hers.
Forever.
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Winter’s Whispers! I hope you loved this tenth book in my The Wicked Winters series and that Blade and Felicity touched your heart and made you laugh along the way. We all need more laughter, don’t we? And love. We need that, too. I also hope you enjoyed the glimpses of previous couples in the series. If this is the first book you’ve picked up in the series, you can catch the happily ever afters of all the other couples mentioned in Winter’s Whispers in books 1-6. As always, thank you for spending your precious time reading my books!
Please consider leaving an honest review of Winter’s Woman. Reviews are greatly appreciated! If you’d like to keep up to date with my latest releases and series news, sign up for my newsletter here or follow me on Amazon or BookBub. Join my reader’s group on Facebook for bonus content, early excerpts, giveaways, and more.
There are more Winters on the way. If you’d like a preview of Winter’s Waltz, Book Eleven in The Wicked Winters series, featuring fierce, eccentric, breeches-wearing Gen Winter and the ne’er-do-well lord she’s about to reform, do read on.
Until next time,
Scarlett
Winter’s Waltz
The Wicked Winters Book Eleven
By
Scarlett Scott
The Marquess of Sundenbury needs to stay out of trouble. Genevieve Winter needs a favor. What could go wrong? Only everything…
Sundenbury has a gambling problem. Genevieve has a Sundenbury problem. Namely, she has been tasked with keeping an eye on the scandalous lord. Gen has plans to open a ladies’ gaming establishment, and while she’s saddled with London’s biggest ne’er do well, he has to make himself useful. In exchange for her aid, the marquess must help her gain the ladylike polish she requires to lure in her lucrative clientele.
Max, Marquess of Sundenbury, is the undisputed black sheep of his family. With his gambling debts mounting and a ducal father who has cut off the purse strings, he needs to reform his reputation and find a wealthy bride. His plan? Take a month away from society, give the wagging tongues time to settle down, then reemerge a changed man, and all that folderol.
But he never bargained for the hellion in breeches who amazes him with her sharp wit, sharper tongue, and undeniable beauty. Gen wants nothing to do with a handsome scoundrel like Max, no matter how sinful his kisses or tempting his embrace. An independent lady gaming hell owner and a penniless lord who can’t stay away from the hazard table could not be more wrong for each other.
Or mayhap, just mayhap, they could not be more right.
Chapter One
East London, 1815
The Marquess of Sundenbury was not going to last more than ten minutes in the East End. Genevieve Winter was never more certain of it than when she found him seated in her chair at her desk, his polished boots propped upon her ledgers, grinning like the stupid, handsome fiend he was.
He was not going to last because she was going to murder him.
Poison, she decided. He was too pretty to suffer the agony of gunshot or the blade. Mayhap she could slip hemlock into his tea.
“Miss Winter,”