Page 7 of Pride: The Rogue
Dynevor crooked a finger.
In an instant, an even grander beauty than Ariel, materialized.
With unbound, red-tinged brown curls, enormous breasts, a thick waist, and even thicker hips, she had the look of a fertility goddess. And—by the sly glint in her darkly lined, cat-shaped, eyes—the boundless, wild, lust of Venus, too.
“Ariel didn’t succeed in seducing you, Latimer. I wager you won’t manage the same restraint with Venus.”
Ah, Venus. Latimer chuckled. “Apt name.”.
“You have no idea.” The earl flashed another cynical grin. “But you will.”
Venus looked to her employer for approval.
Like a benevolent lord, he motioned for Venus to carry on. “It’s business foryou,” Dyvenor noted, as the lush beauty leaned over Latimer and pressed her big breasts against his chest. “But for Venus here, it’s all pleasure. Both of your needs will be met.” He wagged his blond eyebrows. “In your case,allof them.”
Venus bit the shell of Latimer’s ear; rough, as he’d always liked his bed sport. As such, he couldn’t stop his breath from increasing slightly.
Enough for the other man to notice. “Go. Take her.”
This time, Latimer let Dyvenor’s beauty take him by the hand and lead him through a nearby door.
Just as they made to leave, the earl called over. “Tough work, isn’t it?” he asked, laughing.
A short while later, in one of the private suites, with Venus kneeling between his legs, and working magic with her mouth upon his cock, he notedthiswas anything but work.
Latimer’s breath grew ragged; he tangled his fingers in the seductress’s wild curls and set the pace he loved.
Now, he understood the power of what Dynevor was selling.
His ballocks tightened and his eyes slid closed.
Before he emptied himself into Venus’s throat, he had but one thought—this empire would thrive again, and Latimer would be at the helm.
Chapter 2
Rain slanted down against the carriage window with such force, in such blinding sheets, it was a wonder the panes hadn’t shattered, long before now.
The unrelenting deluge and remorseless wind battering the conveyance could only portend death or a certain other doom.
Which, given the journey Miss Livian Lovelace currently made, proved hopeful. Not, however, when considering, she currently journeyed to meet her future husband.
“Or, find a future husband,” she muttered under her breath. For, that would be the most accurate way to describe her current circumstances.
After all, the sole reason for her even attending a dreadedtonhouse party was so that Livian could meet a gentleman to marry. All the lords who’d be in attendance were aware of the purpose of the gathering.
And whether Livian liked it or not, for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death did part them, she’d be bound to a powerful peer.
Until death did part them.
Shivering, she rubbed her trembling hands together hard.Or maybe it won’t even come to that, she morbidly reminded herself.
Given the way the plodding conveyance jolted and swayed from left to right and bounced violently in deep holes and puddles, Livian’s surviving the trip remained anywhere from dubious to doubtful to unlikely—to impossible.
A jagged, streak of lightning ripped across the night sky.
This particular strike hit so close, the slow-moving carriage rumbled.
Heart racing, Livian jumped.
