The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 38

He pulled the dress again, and nudging it down between them until it hit the floor at her feet. He pressed a hand to her back, pushing her into her original position, bent over for his pleasure. Now she braced, ready for the slap again.

“You’re not going to know when it’s coming,” he promised, as if he could read her mind. “That’s part of the pleasure.”

“For you,” she choked out as a laugh.

He chuckled in response. “I know when it’s coming. Now…please behave, Imogen.”

She found herself lifting up on her toes, seeking what he was resistant to giving. “I’m sure you’ll make me.”

That did earn a slap, a little harder than the first one. Her bottom tingled for a moment and her fingers clenched at the sensation, especially when he cupped the place he’d struck, tracing the mark he’d surely left with his fingers.

He reached between her legs with the opposite hand and pressed a finger to her clitoris, flicking the hood away and exposing the nerve. She bucked against his hand, squirming against the pressure as pleasure mounted between her legs. He increased that pressure in response, stroking her as she ground against him, rocking herself toward release. Just when she was right on the edge, ready to fall, he slapped her backside once more, and she jolted against him with a cry.

The pleasure was so intense she almost pulled away from it, but he held her firm, continuing to play her like an instrument. And then she felt it, his thick cock at her entrance. She had been so lost in her release, she hadn’t even realized he’d freed himself from his trousers, and now he slid in inch by inch, her still-clenching pussy welcoming him.

The sensation changed with his cock to grip on. She pushed back, taking him to the hilt and pulsing against him as she buried her cries against the mattress. She felt the tension in him, even though she couldn’t see him. Felt him trying to maintain control over himself, over her. But the more she keened and ground against him, the more his fingers tightened at her hip, clenched against her clitoris.

He started to thrust with a harsh moan, and as he took, he slapped her backside. Over and over. Gently, but continuously, punctuating each swivel of his hips with the contact of his palm. She met his thrusts with wild ones of her own, never letting him fully control what was happening, and surrendering herself to every sensation overloading her mind.

When the second orgasm hit her, fast on the heels of the first, she didn’t care if she screamed the house down. She bucked, squeezing so tightly she feared she’d hurt him, letting her fingers join his on her clitoris. His thrusts grew deeper and harder, the slap of skin on skin now his pelvis hitting her backside rather than his hand. Only when she collapsed against the edge of the bed did he withdraw and come against her back with a grunting sound of relief and pleasure.

They leaned there together a while. She had no idea how long, still suspended in pleasure and release. Eventually, he pushed away from her and she rolled over to look at him. He was still fully dressed but for the fall front of his trousers, and she licked her lips at how lewd that felt. To be naked and covered in sweat and his release while he stood there looking almost pulled together. He had done this animal thing with her, but he still looked like a gentleman.

Almost a gentleman.

“Look at me like that and you might not like the results,” he growled.

She reached up to catch his lapels and brought him closer, leaning over her, caging her in. “I think I proved I like the results just fine, Mr. Fitzhugh. Are you certain you’re not the one afraid of what will happen if I keep testing your control?”

He didn’t respond. His nostrils flared and his expression hardened before he dropped his mouth to hers for a fast, punishing kiss. She surrendered to it, and to him as he pushed her further up on the bed and stepped away to strip out of his clothing.

For the moment, at least, all the vulnerability he’d shown in the carriage was gone. She had allowed him to hide it back under this shield of passion and pleasure and command. It didn’t mean, however, that she had forgotten what she’d seen. Or that she didn’t know that the bond they had begun to forge on the ride from his mother’s wouldn’t eventually have consequences. It was plain it would for them both.

Only she didn’t want to think about that now when he was offering her pleasure so they could both forget the past, both forget the pain…both forget anything but how perfectly their bodies moved together. The rest would come later.