Page 43 of One Night with a Prince
she cried out, as they swamped her senses. “Byrne…oh, my word…Byrne…”
“I’m here.” His hand slowed to a sensuous caress, gentling her, soothing her as she shook from the waves of pleasure rocking her body.
And when it was over, and the excitement faded to a sweet contentment, he nuzzled her cheek, and said again, “I’m here, my sweet.”
For a moment, all Christabel could do was breathe and wonder and try to figure out how he—
“You’re thinking again,” he whispered, then laved her ear with his tongue.
“I’m not…I…what on earth was that? What happened?”
Moving his hand from between her legs, he drew back to stare at her. “You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
His lips tightened into a thin line. “Haversham should have shown you, yes. But I’m not exactly surprised that he didn’t.”
His condemning tone stung. She leaped to defend her late husband. “You can’t expect him to have been as wicked as you. He was a respectable man—”
“Who was too selfish to pleasure his wife.” His eyes bored into her, unsettling her. “Unless you found what we just did unpleasant, don’t excuse him for denying it to you.”
She colored. “Perhaps he didn’t…know how—”
“Then he should have learned.” His hands caressed her thighs. “Trust me, that’s the very least that a man…a lover…ahusband should do for his wife. Though plenty of them don’t.”
“I see,” she said inanely. And she did. So very much.This was why married women clamored to play the role of his mistress. They wanted this heady, addictive pleasure that their husbands wouldn’t or couldn’t give them.
He bent to kiss her cheek, then her jaw, then her throat. “Now I see why you balked at sharing my bed. Because you didn’t know what you were missing.”
“That wasn’t why,” she whispered without thinking.
“Then what was the reason?” He tongued the pulse in her neck that still beat so wildly. Because if I share your bed, I’ll lose myself.
She couldn’t say that; it would give him an advantage.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlStill kissing her neck and her hair, he moved in closer, the tip of his erect shaft brushing between her legs. Panic seized her. Oh, Lord, she’d already given him an advantage. He’d pleasured her, but he hadn’t gained his own pleasure. And now he would expect to gain it in her bed. Unless—
Almost desperately, she reached between them to close her hand about his hot, rigid flesh. He groaned. “Damn, that feels good.”
Tentatively, she worked her hand up and down his shaft, rewarded by another heartfelt groan. She’d caught Philip doing this once, watched secretly as he stroked himself to release. If he could do it to himself, then surely she—
“That’s enough,” Byrne growled, catching her hand to stay it. “I want to come inside you.”
“But I want to touch you as you touched me.” Frantically, she searched for an argument that would convince him. “Philip never let me touch him like this,” she whispered. Though it was true, it shamed her to reveal it. Still, if the choice was to let Byrne take her here, in her own parlor, like one of his wanton mistresses—
“Please,” she continued, “let me touch you.”
After a second, his hand fell away from hers. “If you want.” He thrust into her hand. “We do have all night.”
“I thought you had to be at the club.”
“They’ll send for me…if they need me,” he choked out. “With luck, they won’t.”
Then he surprised her by lowering his mouth to suck her breast. It was like tossing kindling into smoldering embers—her blood raced hot again, and that insatiable flesh between her legs began to throb. Oh, no, no, she mustn’t let him arouse…her…again….
Praying she was doing it right, she increased the rhythm of her strokes. His response was heartening. With a choked gasp, he tore his mouth from her breast and began pumping his hips against her hand. She couldn’t believe how fiercely firm he was, yet how silky soft his skin, like liquid velvet encasing steel.
“God…oh, God…yes, lass, yes…” he growled.
