The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 28
And then he backed her away from the same edge until she was clawing at him, begging him, wanting what he could provide more than she wanted anything in the world at that moment.
He laughed as he licked her one final time, still not allowing the release. He caught her behind the knees, his fingers tracing patterns there as she writhed, and tugged her to the edge of the bed. He loomed over her, this naked man, his face cloaked in dark shadows that made his dark beard even more of a mask. He stared down at her with wicked intent as he aligned his cock to her ready sex.
He claimed one inch and she clenched at the coverlet with both fists. He was thick, and he stretched her, but it was such a delicious sense of sensation. He claimed another and another, and she lifted toward him, forcing yet more. She wanted all of him. All of him and then she wanted more still.
His expression shifted as he acquiesced. He was watching her so intently, his dark gaze flitting on her face, almost reading her or memorizing her in this moment when she was so damned vulnerable to him.
He dug his fingers into her hips as he fully seated himself, and shuddered out a sigh. The connection of their bodies was perfect, and she gave a sharp cry at how instant and heated the pleasure became. She could come in less than a minute if he kept doing that.
So of course he didn’t. Still teasing, he ground against her, then pulled back for deeper thrusts. He fell into that rhythm. Grind, grind until she was desperately on the edge, then long thrusts. She was sweating, panting, calling out his name.
“What do you want, Imogen?” he asked at last, his voice impossibly rough and dark. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come,” she admitted. “I want to come and then I want to make you come.”
His eyes widened slightly at the second declaration. As if she’d thrown him off his plan. But it gave her what she wanted. He braced himself on the bed, one hand on either side of her head. He never broke eye contact as he stopped the deeper thrusts and merely rolled his pelvis against hers.
She slid her hands along his spine, down to cup his hips, increasing the pressure of her fingers as if she could control what was happening. The pleasure was right there, so ripe for the picking, so close. But it had been close before and he’d denied it. Would he now?
He answered her question by grinding even harder, and the molten pleasure finally peaked. She jerked against him, her body clenching at his as she came. He continued to work at her, his gaze so focused on her face that she almost got lost in him as the sensation overwhelmed.
It was only when she relaxed back, sated, that he drew almost all the way from her and then took her with a full thrust again.
“You want my release?” he growled. “You want to make me come?”
She nodded. “I do. I want to see it.”
He leaned farther over her, threading his fingers through hers as he held her down on the bed. His mouth claimed hers, punishing and hard and filled with all that passion he normally restrained.
And he took her. She’d heard the act described as that before, but had never experienced it in those terms. He took with hard and heavy and never-ending thrusts. She gripped her legs around his hips to find some purchase, angling her mouth to suck his throat as he grew more wild and needy.
She felt him close to the edge. His neck strained, his legs shook, and then he pulled out of her and stroked himself once before he came, his come splashing across her stomach as he called out her name into the quiet like it could somehow bring him home.
He collapsed over her, his mouth finding hers as they scooted up the bed, their arms and legs tangling. She cuddled into his side, reveling in the warmth of him, in the strength of his arms around her. In these moments, both the pleasurable and the quiet, it felt like she could be…still. Safe.
Even though she wasn’t. She wasn’t safe. This thing between them was an illusion in the end. Something temporary, something that would never involve heart or feelings or anything more than this magical meeting of bodies.
She couldn’t ever let herself want for more. She’d learned the hard way what kind of pain that brought.
“Your thoughts are so loud,” Oscar said, his fingers threading through her hair, stroking against her scalp. “Was I so terrible at bringing you pleasure that you immediately go into analyzing your next move?”
She rolled partially over, her hip thrown over his, her arms against his chest and her chin resting there as she looked up into his face. Good Lord, but he was handsome. Even more so with his hair mussed from sex.
“It certainly isn’t that I wasn’t well pleased,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt something like that before. Ever wanted release with such a keen sharpness. And when you gave it? I was floating, utterly weightless.”
He arched a brow. “But?”
She sighed. “But the facts of my situation are still the facts, aren’t they? I’ve been almost…avoiding thinking of them the last few days. Because when I did, I had the physical sensation that I could start screaming and never stop.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault,” she whispered. “However, after that…after what we just did, it’s almost like the edge has come off the fear. I’m sure