quiet torture and a means of staying sane. He wanted to take her, to rip her clothes, tug her hair, make her scream.
Bloody hell. How dare she be so contrary to what he had planned?
And yet he refrained, because she remained such an eager little devil. She played with fire without realizing he could burn her to cinders. Susannah had been terrified of his passion. Any lady of consequence would have been. Only Georgette had been able to keep pace with his needs. What did that say about him? No matter the expensive clothes he wore and the fine company he kept, he remained a beast who deserved to lie with a courtesan, not a woman born to a good, God-fearing family.
Catrin needed to know that. Now.
He crisscrossed his arms behind her back and her bum, then lifted her straight up from the chair. She gasped against his cheek. Any momentary shock dissipated as she sank more deeply into his embrace.
She bit his lower lip, her smile returning in force. “So strong,” she whispered against his wet mouth.
William’s vision wavered at the edges. He was trying to intimidate her, not impress her, yet her breathy compliment sent a thrilling jolt to his cock. Yes, he was strong. He had forged himself into a man no one would challenge. Yet this tiny, curious woman shoved at his control with more determination every time.
He wanted to shove right back.
Far, far too much fabric separated her thighs from his hands, but her bodice was wide and generous in its display of creamy skin. He stripped off her bonnet with one quick flick of ribbon, then laid her back along the desk. No softness or sweetness now as he suckled kisses down her throat and across to her delicate shoulder. Her intake of breath urged him without words, as did her squirming, gently thrusting hips.
William adjusted their position so that she stretched flat against the unforgiving mahogany. His legs tucked against the yards of satin between hers. He bowed up and over her body, and pressed her shoulders back against the ink blotter. She arched into his hold, thrusting up her bosom.
He feasted.
She was milk-and-honey sweetness. Hot. Soft. Firm and resilient. The dip of her bodice revealed the plump swells of her breasts. He skimmed his teeth across her skin, flicked his tongue beneath the hem of lace. The gasped sound of his name on her pretty apricot lips tempted him to keep taking more of this delicious treat. With two fingers, he tugged the lace down to reveal hidden secrets—the secrets she was more willing to reveal than what had taken place on that doomed ship.
He sucked deeper. Her pelvis shuddered beneath his, then met him in a long, hard grind. The mark he left on the upper curve of her left breast gave him a heady, uncomfortable shiver of ownership. He banished that thought, tugging again to expose her nipple. Perfectly pink, hard, petite. He took the bud into his mouth and licked until she fought free of his hands and grabbed the back of his head. The deep, sharp strokes of her fingertips along his scalp spoke in a language he never thought to share with such an unassuming young woman. The language of dark places.
Her other nipple was as responsive as the first. He tickled with his tongue, then tugged with his teeth. All the while he cupped and kneaded those small, beautifully formed breasts as she sought his touch. She behaved like a woman without limits. That thought transformed his prick from merely hard to insanely so. His breath was hot against her skin, radiating back against his damp mouth and the sweat along his upper lip. Another blazing kiss bubbled away rational thought.
Hands. He needed his hands on her backside, and he needed her hands flexing against his chest. Heedless of the barriers, he fought his way under her skirts and pushed past her thin cotton drawers. She moaned as she dipped the crown of her head back toward the desk. All he saw was the elegant stretch of her neck and her fiercely aroused nipples. He kissed down her jaw, down her
Bloody hell. How dare she be so contrary to what he had planned?
And yet he refrained, because she remained such an eager little devil. She played with fire without realizing he could burn her to cinders. Susannah had been terrified of his passion. Any lady of consequence would have been. Only Georgette had been able to keep pace with his needs. What did that say about him? No matter the expensive clothes he wore and the fine company he kept, he remained a beast who deserved to lie with a courtesan, not a woman born to a good, God-fearing family.
Catrin needed to know that. Now.
He crisscrossed his arms behind her back and her bum, then lifted her straight up from the chair. She gasped against his cheek. Any momentary shock dissipated as she sank more deeply into his embrace.
She bit his lower lip, her smile returning in force. “So strong,” she whispered against his wet mouth.
William’s vision wavered at the edges. He was trying to intimidate her, not impress her, yet her breathy compliment sent a thrilling jolt to his cock. Yes, he was strong. He had forged himself into a man no one would challenge. Yet this tiny, curious woman shoved at his control with more determination every time.
He wanted to shove right back.
Far, far too much fabric separated her thighs from his hands, but her bodice was wide and generous in its display of creamy skin. He stripped off her bonnet with one quick flick of ribbon, then laid her back along the desk. No softness or sweetness now as he suckled kisses down her throat and across to her delicate shoulder. Her intake of breath urged him without words, as did her squirming, gently thrusting hips.
William adjusted their position so that she stretched flat against the unforgiving mahogany. His legs tucked against the yards of satin between hers. He bowed up and over her body, and pressed her shoulders back against the ink blotter. She arched into his hold, thrusting up her bosom.
He feasted.
She was milk-and-honey sweetness. Hot. Soft. Firm and resilient. The dip of her bodice revealed the plump swells of her breasts. He skimmed his teeth across her skin, flicked his tongue beneath the hem of lace. The gasped sound of his name on her pretty apricot lips tempted him to keep taking more of this delicious treat. With two fingers, he tugged the lace down to reveal hidden secrets—the secrets she was more willing to reveal than what had taken place on that doomed ship.
He sucked deeper. Her pelvis shuddered beneath his, then met him in a long, hard grind. The mark he left on the upper curve of her left breast gave him a heady, uncomfortable shiver of ownership. He banished that thought, tugging again to expose her nipple. Perfectly pink, hard, petite. He took the bud into his mouth and licked until she fought free of his hands and grabbed the back of his head. The deep, sharp strokes of her fingertips along his scalp spoke in a language he never thought to share with such an unassuming young woman. The language of dark places.
Her other nipple was as responsive as the first. He tickled with his tongue, then tugged with his teeth. All the while he cupped and kneaded those small, beautifully formed breasts as she sought his touch. She behaved like a woman without limits. That thought transformed his prick from merely hard to insanely so. His breath was hot against her skin, radiating back against his damp mouth and the sweat along his upper lip. Another blazing kiss bubbled away rational thought.
Hands. He needed his hands on her backside, and he needed her hands flexing against his chest. Heedless of the barriers, he fought his way under her skirts and pushed past her thin cotton drawers. She moaned as she dipped the crown of her head back toward the desk. All he saw was the elegant stretch of her neck and her fiercely aroused nipples. He kissed down her jaw, down her
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