The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 54
She stared down at him from her perch on the settee. Their eyes met, and he saw the wicked spark in her eyes. She pushed her legs open wider and reached down to spread herself for him.
He was fully clothed and had hardly touched her, but he could have spent in that moment. Instead he leaned in and pressed his fingers against hers, forcing her even wider before he leaned in and licked her.
She jolted against him with a gasp, and he doubled the pressure of his tongue as he repeated the action. How fast could he make her come? That was the question. He counted the seconds in his mind as he sucked her clitoris, swirling his tongue around the nub just the way he knew she liked it. Her breath shortened and she began lifting into his mouth, seeking what he offered, grinding to garner more pleasure.
She jerked against him at last, the waves of her release rippling on his tongue as he continued to stimulate her and force her to cling to the edge of the settee. At last she fell back, panting with relief. Only then did he unfasten the placard on his trousers, freeing himself.
She looked down, licking her lips as he stroked himself once, twice. She opened wider, a wicked groan exiting her mouth as he aligned his hard body to her slick one. He entered her in a long thrust. She was tight around him, perfect and heated and made for him.
He braced himself against the settee cushions, lowering his face close to hers but not kissing her, even when she lifted toward him. He expected her to whimper or demand, but instead she chuckled. A low, rough sound that made him grind his hips in a circle against her.
“Hard,” she demanded, meeting his gaze. Her voice was softer now, more tender despite the question. “Hard, please.”
He lost all sense at that demand, said so sweetly. He lost control for the third time that day. But this kind of surrender was perfect. He tangled his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so she’d watch him the entire time he took her. He placed his opposite hand against her throat, squeezing ever so slightly and loving how her body tightened around him as she moaned.
And then he did as she asked. He fucked her hard, losing himself in the never-ending edge toward release, losing himself in how her eyes glazed over and her cries echoed in the library. He lost himself in the grip of her pussy and the slickness as she came a second time, clawing at him and screaming his name.
His own pleasure arced, like lightning in his veins, and he only barely withdrew from her and came against his hand, making a keening cry that joined with hers before he collapsed against her and kissed her once more.
If he expected her to perhaps broach the topic of Roddenbury or the future or his emotional reasons for seeking out danger, she didn’t. She just wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. As if she knew as well as he did that nothing good could come from exploring a future that couldn’t be. A surrender that couldn’t be.
A love that couldn’t be.
And even though he should have been pleased by that silent capitulation, even though it should have made him feel better that she wouldn’t find a way to break both their hearts, there was something hollow about the victory. Somehow he’d lost, even if he’d won.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was plan for the meeting with her friend in a few days, and how and where he would put Imogen next in the hopes of saving her life.
Chapter 19
The three days until her meeting with Aurora both flew and dragged. Dragged because her lockdown in Oscar’s home had become far more desperate. Even the gardens had become off-limits, and she could see he got nervous when she even put a toe on the terrace. Flew because she felt her time with Oscar swirling away like sands through an hourglass.
He kept talking about sending her away from London after she met with Aurora. He said it was temporary, but they both knew better. She’d already begun to come to terms with the fact that her life as she knew it was very much over. Whatever happened next, it would be a different chapter. Perhaps it would come with a new name and ultimately a new home. A new life. As what, she couldn’t imagine. She’d be useless as a servant thanks to her privileged upbringing. She had no idea how she would ever land a position as a lady’s maid without references or a history.
Perhaps if she went to the continent, she could continue with her original plans to become a courtesan. Only when she thought of another man touching her ever again…not Oscar, who knew her body like it was an instrument and he a virtuoso…
Well, she wasn’t thrilled by the idea. How could she pretend when all she’d do for the rest of her life was compare every man with the one who made it clear he didn’t want her, at least not forever.
But now here they were in his carriage, on the way to his club, where he’d agreed to let her meet with Aurora. Imogen sighed and hoped she was keeping her maudlin thoughts from her face. Oscar was staring out the window, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t entirely aware of her. He always seemed to be.
“We’re here,” he said, his voice rough.
He leaned away from the window, and that gave her a place to look. She leaned in as the carriage pulled up to a beautiful building with intricately carved pillars and a sweeping marble staircase