The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 23
Perhaps she should have hesitated. Perhaps she should have refused. But she didn’t. “Yes.”
He asked nothing more, but caught her chin and held her firm as he kissed her yet again. She lifted against him, clinging to the lapels of his jacket as he reached behind her and pushed the items on the desk away. He lowered her back on the hard surface, his mouth dragging to her throat. He sucked hard there, and she dug her fingers into his hair with a gasp, holding him steady against her flesh.
But he didn’t stay for long. He dragged his mouth lower, over her still-clothed breast, her stomach, her hip. He hooked his hands behind her knees and tugged her to the edge of the desk. She leaned up on her elbows, staring at him. He held her stare with even certainty and she trembled from head to toe.
There was something infinitely wicked in those dark eyes that normally were so unreadable. Her sex twitched at the sight of it, her legs shook. She couldn’t look away as he dragged a chair closer and took a seat. When he opened her legs and pushed up her skirt, she was bared to him. Right there at eye level.
She blushed, resting back on the desk a moment so she wouldn’t have to watch him watch her in this most private place. She felt him do it, though. Felt the heat of his stare sweep across her with as much intensity as his fingers had a few days ago.
She flexed out of pure instinct and he made a rumbling sound deep in his throat. A growl, something possessive and animal. Then his mouth dropped between her thighs and he licked her pussy.
She jolted. If it had been a long time since she had a man inside of her, it was even longer since one did that. And her husband hadn’t had the beard, which scraped along her sensitive flesh and brought her to the edge almost immediately.
He swirled his tongue around her clitoris, sucking until she gripped at the edge of the desk for purchase. Then he backed away, teasing and tormenting every fold of her flesh. She found herself lifting into him, sitting up to cup his head, hold him tight to her as she ground against him in desperation. He clenched her backside, rocking her more firmly against his mouth as he sucked and licked, spearing her with his tongue between tormenting her clitoris. The pleasure built, a wall he crafted with every sweep of his tongue. She wanted it. Wanted him to give her that release more than she wanted anything else in the world.
In that moment, nothing else existed but this. That was the true gift. When he did this, she forgot all the rest and surrendered purely to sensation.
“Please,” she heard herself moan as she gripped his shoulders with her thighs. “Please, please.”
He looked up at her without slowing his pace. Those dark eyes snared hers, holding steady, never wavering. She bucked against him, her entire body tingling, her legs shaking. And then he sucked her harder, faster, and the pleasure rocked her. She cried out, jerking against him so hard she feared she’d harm him. But he didn’t slow. He gave her no quarter, tucking her tighter to his mouth, tormenting her even as she quaked and begged and wept with release.
It felt like it went on for a lifetime. That it would never end because he had no desire to end it, and she surrendered, relaxing back, smoothing her hands over her breasts through the silky gown as her moans eased and the twitching spurts of pure sensation slowed.
Only then did he pull away. He leaned over her, caging her in with his hands, his lips and beard glistening with her release. She reached for him, drawing him down to her, tasting herself on his mouth. She had no idea what would happen next, but she didn’t want this to end. Even though she had no idea what that meant for her, for him, and for the future beyond the next moment.
Chapter 9
Oscar had been with a great many women. Sex had never been something he’d been taught to keep as a secret or a shame. When he wanted, he took. He’d kept mistresses and had shorter affairs over the years. He saw no shame in pleasure, as long as it was given and received by both parties.
But he’d never felt so out of control in any of those affairs as he did in this one with Imogen. Even now, as he caged her in on the desk, she didn’t just kiss him. She licked her essence from his lips and his cock jolted. God, how he wanted to fuck her.
Instead, he pulled away, grabbed her hand and tugged her to a seated position. He couldn’t think straight right now. He needed to think.
She shook her head as he reached out to draw her skirt back down over her legs. “I’ve never met a man like you.”
He backed up a step. “I would wager that’s true. You are accustomed to gentlemen.”
“You think you’re not that?” she asked, tilting her head and meeting his stare. There was nothing artful about her, it seemed. She was never trying to gain some advantage by anything she did. That was such a rare thing that he almost didn’t know how to respond to it.
Perhaps that was why it was more prudent to walk away.
“I’m not that,” he said. “I’m the first bastard son of the Duke of Roseford.”
“Roseford,” she repeated, and her surprise was plain on her face.
He tried not to let his pain be as plain on his own. “Ah, yes. The world knows of his twisted legacy. Of the bastard seed he spread all across the country. I am many things, but a gentleman is not one of them.”
She wrinkled her