Page 123 of Pride: The Rogue
“Lachlan,” she begged.
“You want to come so bad,” he whispered, jerking his hips up hard enough to pull an anguished cry of desire from her lips.
He swallowed the rest of her lusty scream. “Shh, darlin’, we cannot make noise,” he enticed. “Or we’ll be forced to stop. You don’t want that, do you?”
She panted and keened.
“Of course you don’t,” he crooned. “You love when I’m filling you.”
Livian grew crazed, rising and falling violently on his cock.
Somehow, through the agony of unslaked lust, a tight smile formed on Latimer’s lips. Words may have failed the beauty in his arms, but with the violent way she rode him, like a prized stallion she’d tame or die trying, none were needed from the enchantress.
His smug, male amusement proved short-lived.
His cock twitched and the ache in his ballocks grew.
Gritting his teeth, Latimer drew on a lifetime of strength and restraint to keep from spending, wanting her to climax first—hers mattered most and more.
Her unbridled passion threatened to drive him mad with lust. Before Livian, none of his encounters touched his soul and now, every sexual encounter between Livian and Latimer went all the way through his soul.
Their thrusting took on an erratic frenzy.
Sweat slicked their skin. At the noisy slap of his flesh against hers, his balls drew up so tightly he gritted his teeth to keep from driving hard and fast until he flooded her with his seed.
“Would you even be able to stop were a guest or servant pass by and hear us making love?” he tempted her with the forbidden. “Or would you come long and loud for all to hear?”
Livian’s eyes grew almost feral.
As he’d known would happen, the wicked painting he’d given sent her over.
Latimer swallowed her screams as she wept in his mouth, and came in long, rippling waves; the walls of her tight channel clenched about him.
Their rhythm took on a greater urgency. They arched and strained and mated like the beasts he’d told her they were, while Latimer felt like the weakest mortal as he made love to her.
He jerked.
With a stunned gasp, he found himself coming with her in an orgasm so explosive his feet curled up and cramped, and white light flashed in his vision, blinding him.
“Yes,” he hissed. “So. Fucking. Good.”
Groaning, he kept coming in deep, unending rivulets, flooding her with his seed just as she reached a second climax and collapsed in his arms.
They remained that way, clinging to one another; their ragged, uneven, breaths filled the music room, then settling into a soft, more measured tempo.
“Good?” he whispered, kissing her lips.
She rested her head upon his shoulder and gave one of those shy, little nods that would never not drive his desire through the ceiling.
Burying his head against the curve of her neck, Latimer sucked and suckled her skin wanting to mark her.
Nay,needing to, so the world knew she belonged to him.
If even just for this short time.
Latimer held her; his arms wrapped about her trembling frame, the same way she held her slender limbs about hisquakingbody.
Their ragged breaths came in a matching time.
