Page 82 of One Night with a Prince

Licking her finger, she rubbed it over her nipple. “You did say you like to watch. Or was that just a lie?”

His cock swelled to unimaginable hardness inside her. “Not a…lie…” With a low curse, he thrust his pelvis up at her. “Come on, Christabel—”

“How am I any different?” she asked again.

She was going to wring it out of him somehow, wasn’t she? That’s what he got for letting her anywhere near his former mistresses.

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“You’re honest and direct,” he bit out. “You don’t play games.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Except in the bedchamber.”

As a smile broke over her face, she began to move. It was slow, but steady, a torturous ecstasy that made him writhe beneath her. “What else?” she prodded.

He was nearly out of his mind already, and she’d barely started to make love to him. For a woman who’d only recently learned how to find her own pleasure, she certainly knew how to make a man work for his. But God, was it blissful work. “You…don’t…treat me like…a never-ending…fountain of gifts.”

She laughed. “Who does that?”

“Every mistress…I’ve ever had,” he choked out. “Except you.”

With a smile, she increased her motions until he thought he would die from the sheer joy of being inside her, hearing her laugh, seeing her face aglow and her eyes alight. For him. Because of him.

“A-Anything…else?” she managed as she rode him harder, her glorious hair a-tumble and her lush breasts bouncing so enticingly that he couldn’t keep from grabbing one in his mouth and sucking it until she gasped. “Why, Byrne?” she whispered. “Why do you…care about…myfeelings?”

He tore his mouth from her breast to rasp, “Because you…make me…want to be good. And no one…

no one…has ever done that.”

She clasped his head to her breast. “That’s odd. You makeme …want to be…bad.”

He could feel his orgasm building, thundering toward the peak. Quickly, he reached down and fingered her between the legs until he felt her muscles tightening around his cock, milking it, urging him higher and higher.

“Then perhaps we…can meet…in the middle…my darling.”

A cry erupted from her throat as she clutched him tightly to her breasts. He followed right after her, spilling himself inside her with a hoarse growl of satisfaction. A long time later, after they’d finished and Christabel lay cradled in his lap, he realized he’d never felt such contentment in his life. The soothing rumble of the carriage wheels cocooned them in a private world he could stay in forever. In the past, being alone with a mistress after making love had made him restless. With Christabel, it felt like heaven.

“Byrne?”

“Hmm?” he asked, stroking her arm.

“Was Lord Stokely right? Did Philip really not have a mistress?”

He sighed. That she could think of her husband right now somewhat dampened his enjoyment. “Does it matter?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlShe lifted her gaze to his. “If he had a mistress, it means I wasn’t enough to make him happy.”

“No,” he said fiercely, “it doesn’t mean that in the least. It means he was too much an idiot to realize what a treasure he held in his hand.”

She eyed him askance. “Is that why all your friends have lovers and mistresses? Because they’re idiots?”

“Notall my friends are incapable of fidelity. Draker and Iversley are faithful to their wives, and their wives adore them.”

“Yes,” she said consideringly, “there is that.”

Therewas that. If his brothers were any indication, fidelity was indeed possible in a marriage. But would it last? Could it?

“As for my other so-called friends,” he said, “their marriages were built on practicality rather than affection. When people choose spouses for the financial and social assets they bring to the marriage, they may not always find ones whose company they actually enjoy.”

Her voice turned bitter. “And sometimes, even when a marriage is built on mutual affection, one’s spouse might come to dislike one’s company enough to seek another’s.”