Page 16 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

“It’s intoxicating knowing I’m the first man to touch you here,” he whispered, covering her mound. He cooed her name repeatedly as he slowly parted her thighs wider. She gripped the sheets in her hands and moaned into the still night air as he rested his hand between her parted thighs.

“Don’t be scared, my brave pixie.”

“I’d never be frightened of you. You’d never hurt me.” She prayed that was true. Falling in love with him could hurt her deeply and each time he intimately touched her, her heart cracked open more. Giving herself to him for pleasure was a terrible idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

Before she could gather a breath, his hand ran up the inside of her calf and further up her thigh. She bit back a cry of anticipation. Then his finger caressed her wet, pulsating flesh, gently stroking her secret place.

“Oh, dear, God.”

“So responsive. I was right. My timid mouse is full of passion.” He kissed her lips as he slowly penetrated her with two fingers. Then he took her mouth once more.

She shifted restlessly as he continued to kiss her, his tongue in her mouth and his fingers deep within her. Eyes closed, she kissed him back encouragingly, her whole body beginning to undulate.

With his gently thrusting caress between her legs, in and out, her hips lifted to meet the exquisite torture. She let herself fly free, demanding an ever-faster rhythm.

He lowered his head and began licking her nipple in delicate circles as his clever, coaxing fingers worked a slow, sensuous magic. Wantonness enveloped her, and she suddenly understood why women could be so easily seduced. But the thought of letting any other man do this to her turned her cold.

She spread her legs wider for him, arching helplessly against the slick, expert touch. He took her breast and suckled her. Only Rockwell could make her feel this way. No other man—ever.

She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging deep as his thumb joined his fingers, pressing against her mound as his fingers entered her again and again.

She was wholly under his control. Mindless passion owned her.

Every muscle was tight, poised for the splendid release that she could feel was just a stroke away.

Her eyes closed, and her head fell back on the pillow, her center totally focused on a bright light beckoning her.

She could feel him watching, but she didn’t care. She wanted to fly…

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

She moaned his name as her head thrashed on the pillow. She would never forget this moment. Never forget him .

She bucked and gripped the sheets, gasping in a strangled cry, as explosions of shattering pleasure burst in a series of stars behind her eyes and pulses radiating from her feminine core.

Tingles raced through her limbs, rushing along her nerve endings, flooding her body with a sensation that went on and on.

She closed her eyes as aftershocks of pleasure hit her.

He lay beside her, stroking down her body. “That, my pixie, is pleasure.”

She could hardly get her breath. She swallowed hard, thinking she could happily spend the rest of her life in bed—if it were with him.

“Is it always like that?” she asked in wonder.

“Like what?”

“I think it’s like touching heaven.”

He smiled against her cheek. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. But making love is better than that.”

She felt his erection pulsing against her hip and realized he hadn’t—found his release. She turned to face him and ran her finger down over his chest to his groin.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” she said, but her small hand wrapped around his cock and he shuddered. He shouldn’t want her so, but denying his attraction was difficult given she had his erection in her hand.

He took her hand and wrapped it firmly around him, showing her just how tight she could grip him before moving them both slowly up and down his shaft.

She watched, and she saw the heat flame in his eyes.

His hand guided hers in urgent insistence.

He grew rigid and his hot, silky flesh pulsed as he thrust in time to their hands, his muscled body rippling and straining.

He closed his eyes on a groan and his hand fell away, leaving her completely to see to his pleasure. Her power over him was exhilarating. He was under her command and she loved it.

With another groan, he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her down for a frenzied kiss.

She gripped him harder and was rewarded with another groan, then suddenly he gave a low, anguished cry of release, his back arching off the bed as he discharged the hot shooting glory of his seed, raining it on his hard, flat belly.

Her inner core pulsed. Never in her life had she witnessed anything so erotic and beautiful. He was beautiful. His rigid body slowly relaxed, as if all the tension flowed out of him. He lay on the bed, spent, panting, his expression one of wondrous bliss.

Still with eyes closed, he murmured, “You know when we leave here tomorrow, we can never do that again.”

Her mouth firmed. He might think that, but she had at least a week of freedom left before returning home. She intended to make the most of it.

He cast a forearm over his brow and swept his lashes open, gazing at her from under his arm.

Now it was her turn to smile. That look didn’t speak of never doing this again. It spoke of promises of more wonderful nights in his arms.

With a playful growl, he reached out and pulled her down onto his chest, then pressed a kiss to her lips. “You little minx. Only until we get back to London.”

On a satisfied sigh, she curled into his side and promptly fell asleep.

Rockwell lay awake as she slept beside him, gently stroking her silken skin. What a cad. He’d taken advantage of her sorrow. But you needed her. Besides, she might not have accepted it yet, but there was no escaping this scandal. The only honorable thing to do was to marry her.

He looked down at her beautiful face. Those lips that made him want to kiss her every time she smiled.

He had been right. Hidden behind the shy exterior was a passionate woman who needed the right man to reveal her inner strength.

He was the right man, and the idea of any other man touching her made his blood boil. She was his.

But as that thought entered his head, the horror-filled idea of his freedom being curtailed coiled around his heart. The thought of being trapped made him gasp for air. His life would no longer be his, and he still had so much of the world to discover.

It was his father who had instilled wanderlust in him. Perhaps his father did so because he understood what the life of a second son might be—empty, meaningless.

His father used to bring him into his study and show him the map of the world.

They’d play a game where he’d spin the globe and his father would stop it and wherever it stopped by the marker, they would talk about the country.

His father had told him vivid tales of countries he now understood his father never saw.

He could remember the awe and longing in his father’s voice.

He thought his father was very much like him—a wanderer who could never wander because he was the marquess. Rockwell’s uncle had all the adventures instead, and he wondered if his father resented the life he’d had to live.

Would he?

What a mess. He pressed a kiss to Farah’s head as he finally closed his eyes. He needed sleep, but he thought it was quite a shame that if he let himself, he could easily love this woman curled into his side. But he had a world to conquer first.