Page 30 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Wakefield eased himself inside his lover’s sweet channel over and over again, wanting the moment to last forever, but he was too hungry, too desperate to spend.
His climax beckoned, but still he fought it.
He gritted his teeth. “Come for me again,” he ordered.
And she did, wailing and moaning like nothing more than his command could bring her to ecstasy, and as her exquisite channel gripped at him, spasming around him, Wakefield could fight no longer.
Bellowing his lust to the Roman god and goddess of love overhead, he came on a violent explosion, spurting within the sweet folds of his lover’s body.
Chapter 6
When had Cressida’s makeshift mattress ever felt this feathery soft and welcoming? As if she were floating on a cloud made of spun sugar. The warmth enfolding her was so great, her usually aching limbs were cradled and comforted.
Never.
It was for that reason that the splendor of Cressida’s slumber ultimately awakened her.
Still, she fought the force attempting to drag her away from this bliss.
Cressida had been without a steady source of heat for so long now, she’d forgotten what it was to be anything other than chilled to the bone.
But this beautiful dream—of her enfolded in a thick blanket, which conferred only wonderful, quiescent tranquility, was one she wanted to live in forever.
Alas, there were chores and darning, and as it so rudely—and invariably—did, reality reared its head.
Yawning, Cressida stretched her arms high above her and burrowed deeply into the allure of placidity.
Maybe just a moment more.
Smiling contentedly, she curled onto her side. That slight movement caused a sharp twinge between her legs. She winced and rolled onto her other side. A throbbing pain at the apex of her thighs brought her eyes sliding shut in agony, and a hiss exploded from between her tightly gritted teeth.
All previous contentment vanished and the dream of warmth, comfort, and security remained a memory.
“Bloody hell,” she mouthed inaudibly.
When she and her brother first arrived in London, he’d insisted Cressida learn to ride a horse. As he’d pointed out,her fitting into Polite Society reflected upon him, and that was the only reason he’d purchased the mount. She’d ridden but three times before Stanley accumulated enough debt to merit her lovely mare, Rosalind, going up for sale. What Cressida remembered most about those handful of sessions was the aching discomfort and sore muscles that’d followed for days after. Her body now hurt in much the same way.
With greater care than before, she rolled onto her opposite side. This time the pain eased…some.
Her gaze locked on the soundly slumbering and very naked man next to her.
Cressida froze. Her pulse thundering in her ears, her heart pounding in her chest, she jerked her attention at the ceiling overhead and at the mural of Jupiter and Juno. In that crude rendering, the Roman god and goddess were in the throes of lovemaking, while around the mating couple, other painted gods and goddesses, all in various states of dishabille and sin, copulated and—
Her entire body on fire, Cressida wrenched her head sideways.
She froze.
The pleasantness that’d greeted her this morning became some twisted nightmare.
To verify she was, in fact, awake, Cressida, pinched herself hard on her leg. Her naked leg.
Swallowing frantically, Cressida edged her neck up a fraction to take in the sight of herself. She lay completely naked. Little red marks marred her breasts and chest. Faint bruises the size and shape of a man’s fingerprints marked her upper thighs.
Laying slowly back upon the white satin sheet, she stared, dazed, at the sleeping man beside her. Cressida lay beside none other than the honorable, devoted to his family, patron to worthy, compassionate charities, Benedict Adamson, the Earl ofWakefield—a man she’d fallen more than a bit in love with since she’d come to London. Albeit a gentleman whom she’d only exchanged a handful of words with when he’d courted her friend Lady Anwen, now the Marchioness of Landon.
Panic didn’t allow any order to the rapid questions ricocheting around her brain.
How…why…what’d happened that she’d ended up here beside this man? Granted, it was a place she’d always longed to be, but not in whatever waythiswas.
