Page 56 of The Dove
“Dinnae think this makes us friends, me and you” he groused.
She gave him a sly smirk and choked down a giggle. “Oh, never that, Niall.”
Grunting again, he picked up the burgundy and stalked out of the room, leaving her behind. She pressed a hand to her stomach and took a deep breath, her mind eased now that she had an accomplice. Next, she must enact the first part of her scheme … ensuring Adam was placated enough to trust her out of his sight and outside Fairchild House.
Squaring her shoulders, she left the room and set off to the drawing room. If he thought that she’d given up, then he might believe she truly meant to passively accept his dictates. There was only one way she could do that.
Pushing open the drawing room door, she found him still seated before the pianoforte. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she lingered in the doorway and observed him. His posture, hunched over the instrument in only his shirtsleeves and breeches, the brandy decanter resting within reach. She was surprised to find he’d drunk very little, seeming to get enough succor from creating the music that seemed such a part of him.
He went still, his fingers pausing on the keys just as they had that fateful night in Dunnottar, when he’d attacked her, dragging her to the music room to dispose of her virginity with all the savage passion roiling in his veins.
She shivered at the memory, frozen in place as he threw one leg over the bench and turned to face her. She felt certain she hadn’t spoken or made a sound; yet, he’d responded to her presence in the room as if he were as aware of her as she was of him.
Leaning back against the enclosure covering the keys, he inclined his head, studying her in silence. Despite having just been immersed in his favorite pastime, tension stiffened his body, showing in the taut cords of his neck and the firm line of his mouth. He simply sat looking at her, seeming to wait for her to do or say something.
So, she obliged him, closing the door behind her and making her way toward him. Her steps were light and sure, her anxiety melting away as she drew closer and noticed the evidence of his lust—his cock a mouthwatering outline through his snug breeches. As always, she marveled at the strength of his desire at only the sight of her.
His gaze bored into her as she came to a stop just before him, then sank to her knees on the carpet. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but kept her eyes down, her head dipped in submission. His long legs were spread, bent at the knee, allowing just enough space for her to fit between them, her hands resting on his powerful thighs. The hard muscles relaxed against her palms, his breath coming more rapid as she caressed him—smoothing her fingertips down toward his knees, then up toward his groin. Every inch of him that she could see relaxed and unwound, and she could not help a little smile.
He’d needed her, even if he did not wish to admit it. He might not care for her, but there was something about her that he needed, craved even. Why else would he so relentlessly keep her bound to him even when she fought?
There would be no fighting tonight. When he reached out toward her, she arched her neck, laid her cheek in his palm, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into a place of surrender. It was what she needed to do to gain his trust.
Perhaps it was even what she needed to assure herself she was doing the right thing. She was doing it for him … all for him.
Her skin prickled with warmth as he stroked her cheek, his thumb caressing her lips. He tilted her head back so she looked him in the eye, his expression open and portraying his lust, his need, the conflict he likely did not wish her to see. The warring emotions that made him such a volatile mix of love and pain, pleasure and torment, right and wrong.
She opened her mouth for him, flicking her tongue out to lap at the pad of his thumb. They groaned in unison, eyes locked, a shudder seeming to afflict them both at the same time.
He slipped his thumb between her lips, and she fastened her mouth around him, closing her eyes and suckling.
“Fucking hell, little dove,” he whispered, his voice tinged with lust and awe. “You’ll drive me mad before long, you know. I fear you already have.”
Her chest ached at his admission, the part of her that craved his affection blossoming and growing as if bathed with light. In his own way, it had been an admission of his weakness for her.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him again, releasing his thumb and edging closer. So close, she could lower her head into his lap. Which was exactly what she did, bringing her palm over his erection and pursing her lips to kiss the tip of it at the same time. He groaned, bucking his hips as she massaged him through his clothes, nuzzling him, drawing in his scent and reveling in the feel of him growing harder at her fingertips. Before long, he reached down and snatched open his fall, gripping her hair in one hand and his cock in the other.
Shutting her eyes once more, she surrendered to his control, relaxing her jaw as he shoved toward the back of her throat. He groaned, his hips coming up off the bench as he pressed her head down, choking her, trying to go as deep into her as he could, mindless now from the pleasure.
She let him use her, closing her lips around him and suckling, offering no resistance against his control. Her nipples tingled, drawing into tight nubs, her cunt pulsating and clenching from hunger and need. A hunger he would sate, but only after he’d had his way, gotten what he wanted. He fucked her mouth for what felt like hours, groaning and shuddering before spending in a rush, muttering oaths under his breath and stroking her hair.
“Such a good little dove,” he whispered when she released him from her mouth and fell against his leg with a gasp, fighting to catch her breath. “So good.”
She nuzzled against his thigh, reveling in his praise, his satisfaction becoming her own. Even as her body screamed for release, she found contentment in his relaxed state, at having been the cause. They sat that way for a long moment, his fingers soothing her stinging scalp and rubbing away the abuse from his yanking fingers.
Then, he was grabbing her beneath her arms, lifting her into his lap. She gasped when he spread her legs to hang over his, snatching up her gown and grasping her buttocks, pulling her so they were connected, his cock flaring back to life against her mons. He sighed, burying his face in her neck, nuzzling, kissing, biting, all while grinding her against him, coating himself in her wetness.
She shuddered in his hold, closing her eyes and tipping her head back as he bit her shoulder, causing stars and pinpoints of light to explode behind her eyelids. He snatched down the front of her bodice to expose her breasts, his breath racing against her skin as he brought a hand from under her gown to cup one, kneading it and pinching the nipple until she cried out. Then, he was soothing her with flicks of his tongue and soft pulls of his lips, before going back to inflicting his brand of torment, scraping her with his teeth.
By the time he’d grown hard enough to enter her again, he’d reduced her to a writhing, panting animal. She clawed at him, undulating in his lap as he nudged his way as far as he could reach, touching the parts of her that never ceased to send lightning strikes of pleasure deep into her womb.
Cupping her buttocks, he dug his fingers in, dragging her pelvis against his at the perfect angle to stimulate her clit. She gasped, already so close to falling apart that she could hardly fight it. He seemed to realize it, too, keeping his gaze on her face as he did it again and again, moving her the way he wanted, his hips rolling in sweet counterpoint to hers. He panted against her cheek, his lips and teeth nipping at the line of her jaw. Then, he was kissing her, his tongue invading her mouth and his lips smothering her moans.
The kiss proved her undoing, triggering her release. She shook violently, groaning into his mouth as her hips bucked against his, her insides squeezing him, drawing him in deeper. He made an answering sound, but went on drinking from her mouth, refusing to pull away until she had spent completely, going silent and still atop him. She could only cling to him then, her head lolling against his shoulder as he stood and fell to his knees on the floor, then laying her on her back and coming on top of her—all without dislodging their connection. She spread herself wide for him, dropping her knees open and arching her back, opening her hands when he fit his palms against hers.
He held her hands for a brief moment, squeezing her fingers, then shifted his grip so that he had her wrists pinned above her head, her arms pulled taut. Then, he was fucking her in earnest, his body colliding with hers, pounding her into the rug. Another climax loomed on the heels of her first, and a scream burned in her throat, trapped by the breath she held while waiting for it to wash over her.
Adam lowered his head to capture a breast in his mouth, sucking with pulls she felt deep in her core, exacerbating the pounding spasms threatening to overtake her. The insides of her thighs grew sore, and she’d be bruised in the morning, her shoulders aching from being held this way, her neck and breasts marked from his mouth and teeth. But she wanted it all, wanted Adam just the way he was now … cruel, and demanding, and beautiful.
