Page 43 of Peasants and Kings
I didn’t reply. Instead I closed my eyes and focused on his hands and the desire they were eliciting.
“Want me to stop? I’ll stop.”
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”
“Then tell me you liked watching them.”
I’d never wanted to come more in my life. Every stroke from him caused a new tremor to race between the juncture of my thighs.
“I liked watching them.”
No sooner had the words spilled from my lips than Hadrian slid a large finger into my waiting, welcoming body.
He said something in a foreign language.
I focused on the feeling of him inside me. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more.
His finger was ruthless as he thrust it in and out of me. And when he added another finger, my violent orgasm made me clamp around him as all the stress of the evening and my primal instincts came together in a fantastic release. My legs turned to jelly, and I would’ve sunk to the ground, but Hadrian braced me against the wall of his chest.
He left his fingers inside of me until I stopped quivering, and only then did he leave my body. Before I could say a word, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me off into the night.
Chapter Ten
My cheek rubbed against Hadrian’s lapel as I breathed in the spicy, aromatic scent that clung to his skin. I wondered what he smelled like beneath the cologne.
I was in a post orgasmic, catatonic state. It was the only logical explanation for why I was doing what I was doing.
He hadn’t said anything after he’d lifted me into his arms. Instead, he’d carted me like I weighed nothing as he walked around the glass gazebo and eventually entered the other side of the garden maze.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, my voice coming out low and strained. Like I’d spent hours screaming my pleasure.
“To the carriage house,” he said.
His brogue was sinful, a potent caress.
We finally came to the end of the maze and I saw a structure—far larger than the gazebo—made of wood and brick.
Hadrian managed to open the door with me still in his arms and then gently set me down onto the floor. He closed the door, standing in front of it for a moment, staring at me.
I looked everywhere but at him, taking in the gas fireplace and the expensive leather furniture in the overtly masculine living room.
“It’s nice, but what is this place?” I asked.
“It used to be a carriage house, but it’s been converted to a small guest house.”
“Are we allowed to be in here?”
“I’m…an associate of the man who owns The Mansion. He won’t mind.”
Though the carriage house appeared small by The Mansion’s standards, it was just as grand. An expensive rug covered the floor of the front room. Artwork hung on the walls and ornate trinkets adorned the mantle of an elegant fireplace.
Without a word, Hadrian brushed past me into the living room and went to a silver and glass bar cart.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Ah, I’m not supposed to drink on nights that I work.”
“I won’t tell.” He picked up a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of amber liquid.
