“As much as I like that, you are making me dizzy,” he said with a chuckle. “Slide over.”
She did so, watching him come into the bed. He rolled on his side to face her and she touched his cheek. “We could just lie together if you’re—”
“Oh no,” he said. “I’m not such an invalid that I can’t do exactly what I cannot wait to do.” He pushed back so he was seated in the bed and then motioned to her to his lap. “Please, Your Grace.”
She hesitated a moment and then moved to straddle him, gripping his cock to align him to her body. But to her surprise, he pushed her hand away. “Not yet, sweet,” he whispered. “I have so much more I want to do before I feel you take me.”
She settled onto his lap, his cock against her backside, and leaned in, bracing her arms on the headrest on either side of him. He cupped the back of her neck and they kissed again. She lost herself in that kiss, in him, in his flavor, in the way he flexed beneath her, in the way her body changed beneath his touch.
His dragged his mouth back to her throat, back to her breast, massaging the right with his hand, sucking the left until she saw stars of pleasure. She dropped her head back, arching to offer him better access and surrendered to pleasure, to him.
And oh, what pleasure he offered, swirling his tongue, sucking gently, drawing his free hand down the apex of her body, until he found her thigh. She ground against him, hissing out her breath, longing for his touch as much as she’d ever longed for anything in her life.
He lifted his head from her breast and watched her as he smoothed two fingers against her sex, massaging her outer lips lightly. She jolted at the sensation and forced herself to lower her gaze to his, to hold there while he touched her, spread her, breached her wet body with one finger, then two.
“Roarke,” she whimpered, and he nodded as he began to curl those same fingers inside, stimulating her as she rocked against him. His thumb found her clitoris and he teased it in time, building pleasure in her that bloomed and warmed her entire shaking body.
She wanted more. She wanted it all. When she found it, she dropped her head forward, muffling her moans against his shoulders as she flexed against his fingers in a never-ending waterfall of pleasure. When she had stopped twitching, he drew back, removing his fingers. He lifted them to his lips and licked them and she felt her body respond to that wicked action.
She felt herself wanting to do something just as wicked in return. She caught his hand and pulled it to her own mouth, tasting her release on his fingers as he stared at her in wild wonder.
“I think we’ve both waited long enough,” he grunted, his voice harsh now, rough. He caught her hips and she squealed as he lifted her, maneuvered her. She reached between them, and this time he didn’t push her away when she pressed the head of his cock against her entrance. All he did was moan her name as she slid down his length in one wet slide, filled completely by him.
It had been a long time since she done this. And it had never been like this. Never so wanton or desperate or filled with wild pleasure that seemed to rule every part of her quaking body. She couldn’t wait, she couldn’t be demure, she just needed to ride this man.
So she did, gripping his shoulders tightly as she began to rock and grind over him. He swore, his fingers digging harder into her hips, marking her, she hoped. She wanted to be marked by him, she wanted to mark him in return.
She cupped his cheeks, kissing him with all her passion as she rolled her hips over him. Their bodies slapped as they met and parted, a wet sound that aroused her even further, made her sink into the animalistic want that echoed through her entire being. He was hers, this was how she made him hers.
She nipped his lower lip and he rose harder in her from beneath with a heavy groan. And that sound of pleasure from this man who so obviously had far more experience than she did was enough to send ripples of pleasure to mount through her. She gripped him with her body, demanding more, taking it, and then she was soaring all over again, crying out without thought to who would hear. She didn’t care. Let the house know she was well-pleasured. As long as he didn’t stop.
And he didn’t. He took her harder, faster, his hands digging into her thighs, his eyes wide as he watched her ride the crest of her pleasure. And only when she slid down the other side, her body weak with release and her mouth softer on his, did he lift against her few more times, pull from her body and spend between them in a hot gush of pleasure.
She rested her head against his shoulder, panting with exertion. His arms folded harder around her and he held her, smoothing his hands along her spine, his soft breath against her ear as he gently kissed any exposed skin he could find.
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Did I hurt you?”
He choked out a garbled laugh and shook his head. “I feel no pain, Flora, I promise you that. And if I do later, it is entirely worth it.”
She smiled and kissed him once more before she slid from his lap and onto the bed next to him. He faced her, and they lay like that for she didn’t know how long. Just watching each other, their fingers flexing along each other, measuring the other person’s form.
Finally, she sighed. “I heard Callum saying that if a person has a blow to the head, it’s sometimes good for them not to be alone afterward. Just the first night.”
Both Roarke’s eyebrows lifted and he winced. “Ugh, well, I can see why. I know there can be consequences to a blow to the head. Although I’ve only felt better in the hours since we were attacked.”
She moved her hand to his chest and touched his pectoral, tracing the muscle there, then smoothing her fingers across his nipple and loving how he took in a sharp inhale. “Still,” she said, holding his gaze. “Since you saved me, I think it might be best that I stay. Just to be certain. As long as that is something you would want.”
His expression softened and he leaned into her, kissing her gently, then not so gently. He hardly parted his mouth from hers at all as he said, “I think you know best, Flora. I am at your mercy.”
Then he kissed her even more deeply and soon proved that if anyone was at anyone’s mercy, it was her. And she couldn’t have been happier in that knowledge.
CHAPTER 20
The next two days seemed to fly by for Flora. Despite the threats against her and Roarke recovering from his injuries, the time they shared was magical. When they were with her friends, he was pleasant and interesting, and she could see them all slowly coming to forgiveness for what he’d done. Even Valaria smiled more often at him now and no longer glared.
As for her, he was always honest, always direct. And when they were alone, even more so. She’d learned more about his father, his mother. They’d even talked about Stuart. The fact that he’d cared about a person she’d loved only seemed to bring them more together.
And at night? Well, those times were even better. Roarke might still be bruised and his stitches still red and swollen, but he was certainly capable of passion. He made love to her over and over, drawing pleasure from her in ways she hadn’t even known were possible. Then they’d lie together afterward, whispering about the future, about the past, about anything at all before he swept her up and started all over again.
She was falling head over heels in love with him. She hadn’t said so yet. The uncertainty his lies had created weeks ago remained around her heart and she didn’t want to jump too soon and put herself in an even worse position. But when she pictured her life, she was having a harder and harder time picturing it without him.