Page 87 of Reluctantly Rogue

I was an idiot if I thought I was going to leave Washington, D.C., without touching her. This might be the biggest mistake of my life, but I’m only a man. I like to think I am a good man, stronger than most, all of that, but we all have our limits.

Linnea Olsen is mine.

I was right that there is a light on in here. The light in the closet is on. I wonder if my duchess doesn’t like full darkness. That works out well because I want to seeallof her tonight. I cross to the bedside table and click on the lamp.

She doesn’t say a word. Where some women protest having too much light, she just watches me. So far, so good.

“The only word you need to stop what we’re doing is ‘stop’,” I tell her. “I’ll decide what to show you, what you’re ready to try, but if you don’t like something, you can stop any of it at any time.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I glance at the closet again and smile. Oh, I have a fantastic idea. I can’t fuck her tonight. Not this first time. There’s so much more to show her first. She’s a virgin. I cannot forget that. Ihaveto be one hundred percent certain that she’s ready formeto change that. There’s no undoing that.

But I’m now sure that once I see her naked and see and hear her come, if she asks me for more, I’ll say yes. It kills me to think of someone else being her first.

We are going to have a lot of fun tonight, though.

I stand by the side of the bed, looking down at her. Her hair looks even darker against the stark white of the sheets. Her pajama top has pulled up on her toned stomach and that strip of skin makes my mouth water. Her legs shift restlessly on the sheets.

Christ. Where to start?

She’s watching me with wide green eyes, pink cheeks, mouth open as she nearly pants.

We are definitely doing this my way. We’re going to find out what Linnea Olsen likes, but if she doesn’t like the way I do things, that would be good. And save me a lot of time fantasizing about all the things to teach her. Because from here it getssomuch better. Or worse.

Guess we’ll see.

“I talk,” I tell her. “Lots of words. Dirty ones. I love women’s bodies. I love exploring, looking, touching, tasting. Sometimes I like it fast and dirty, sometimes slow and dirty. But always dirty.”

“Okay.”

“You sure?” I am positive. No one has ever said the things I intend to say to this woman.

“Totally sure.”

I put one knee on the mattress and lean over. I stroke a hand up her leg. “You’re okay with hearing me talk about your pussy? Saying things like I can’t wait to feel you come apart all over my tongue? Tell you that I’ll bet your sweet, tight cunt is so wet for me right now?”

My fingers are dragging back and forth over her inner thigh and she’s watching me raptly.

I palm her thigh and squeeze. “You have to talk too, Duchess.”

“Oh. Yes. I want all of that.” She licks her lips. “I’m good with anything you say.”

I move my hand higher. “You’re telling me that I might be telling a future queen that I want her to grind her pussy harder against my mouth?”

She blows out a breath. “Yes.”

“So dirty talk definitely goes on your Things I Like list.”

I run my hand up under the bottom of her shorts.

No panties. Just hot silky skin.

“Take your top off.” I need to see her tits. Now.

She reaches for the bottom of her cami. She wiggles a little as she slips it off over her head, making her breasts bounce.

Fuck. Me.

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