Page 33 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

She wanted to bite it, but that would mean he’d have to stop touching her there, and she didn’t want that to happen.

He raised his mouth from hers, and she opened her eyes in surprise, only to close them again when he immediately moved lower to her breast, wrapping his lips around her nipple and giving a hard suck.

It was as though she could feel it throughout her entire body, and she moaned. She felt on the brink of climax, just from this, so she squeezed her legs together and uttered a noise of frustration.

“Patience, Drusilla,” he said in a low tone. “I’ll make you scream soon enough.”

His rough burr, along with what he continued to do, made her even more frantic, and she opened her eyes long enough to glare at him, but he only laughed, then went to her other nipple and repeated the long suck.

This time, he bit the tender flesh of her breast, soothing it with a gentle lick right after.

His cock was heavy and hard against her belly, and she wriggled her hand in between them, eager to make him feel as desperate as she did.

“You want that, hm?” he said.

“I want you,” she clarified.

“Then have me, Drusilla,” he said, and rolled over onto his back, his dressing gown falling away entirely, revealing his body in all of its luscious savagery.

He was as large and as muscular as she’d expected, with dark, curly hair sprouting from his chest and his legs. An arrow of dark hair led down to his penis, which stood upright in a nest of dark hair, a thoroughly masculine presentation that made her mouth water.

She knelt on the bed on top of him. She met his gaze and licked her lips, watching his mouth drop open and his eyes start to track her movements.

Then she reached and took his cock in her hand, feeling the hot throbbing length of him, hearing him hiss as she squeezed.

“Do you like this?” she asked, as she began to stroke up and down.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

She reached her other hand out and cupped his balls, rolling them in her palm. “And this?”

“God, yes,” he said, sounding strained.

“Good,” she said, knowing she sounded smug. She’d paid attention to her past lovers’ likes and dislikes, and had done some salacious reading on her own, so she was fairly confident in her own abilities.

But it was good to have it corroborated.

“And this?” she said, before lowering her head to take him in her mouth.

He uttered a strangled groan, and she chuckled against him as she began to lick and suck, still holding him with her hands, still stroking up and down, then sliding her mouth down, tightening her grip to the base of his shaft and bringing it back up as she raised her head.

He pulsed, and she could taste him in the back of her throat.

“For fuck’s sake, Drusilla,” he said after only a few minutes.

He moved her onto her back again, then got onto his knees, shrugging off the dressing gown so he was in all his naked splendor.

His expression was fierce and ravenous, and she bit her lip, feeling herself ache down there, longing for him to fill her up as he’d promised.

“You’re more than ready for me, lass,” he said, taking his cock in his hand.

“Please,” she begged.

He braced one hand on the mattress, then put the tip of his penis to her entrance. She felt him enter, already stretching her with his girth, the slight discomfort a welcome pain among all the pleasure.

“Are you all right?” he said when he was about halfway in.

She nodded, then put her hands on his arse, urging him inside. “Please,” she said again.

He didn’t hesitate then but pushed all the way inside until they were completely joined.

He lay there for just a moment, both of them panting, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and began to move, to try to find that pressure she knew was possible, the one that would bring her to climax while he was inside.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, as he rose up on his arms and slid out just a bit.

“If you don’t kill me first,” she said, rocking her hips.

He shoved back in again, hard, and she gasped at the delicious impact, flinging her head back as he did it again, and again, their movements strong and rough.

He didn’t forget her pleasure in the chasing of his either; his fingers were there at her clitoris as he thrust into her, and the pressure and rhythmic strokes were building her up to climax at the same intensity, it seemed, as he was feeling.

Soon there was nothing but them, and the rhythm between them, and their harsh breathing, and how the bed creaked in time with them, until he froze, each of his muscles tightening, his head flung back, his hips slowing their pistoning, and he uttered a guttural moan as she felt him spill inside her.

She followed just after, only having to wiggle against him a bit more before feeling herself on that pleasurable mountain, and then drifting off it in a sea of bliss. Moaning his name as she came, though she was able to keep from screaming.

He collapsed onto her, damp with his efforts, and she put her hand on the nape of his neck, the other on that fine arse, and chuckled.

“That was well worth the wait, my ram.”

“Indeed,” he said.

I f he could lie like this for the rest of his life, he would be content.

Her fingers moved idly in his hair as she made soft murmurs in the back of her throat. Her eyes were closed, and he saw her smile faintly as her breathing became more regular.

He eased off her partway, and her eyes snapped open, glancing at him. “You don’t have to go yet, do you?”

He liked hearing that note of longing in her voice.

“No, not yet. I just don’t want to crush you.”

“I am made of sturdier stuff, my lord,” she said. “Or haven’t you realized that yet?’

“Oh, I have,” he replied. She was so strong that she didn’t need anybody—not a husband, certainly, and likely not a long-term lover.

Not even a very good friend. She had Miss Joey, she had her work, and she had her various projects, people like the housekeeper and her daughter, the orphans she’d just taken in, and the family who’d been there when he and Emily had arrived.

She didn’t need him. She didn’t want him. Except to use in this situation, and this relationship would only last so long—as long as it took for Emily to get married or the end of the Season. Whichever came first.

“What has got you looking like that?” she asked. “Whatever went wrong at the party won’t affect Miss Emily, if that is your concern.”

“Oh no, not that,” he said. He hadn’t even thought of that possibility. But— “Will people say anything about it, do you think?”

She snorted, raising one cynical eyebrow. “If there is an opportunity to talk, people will talk. Surely even where you live, people gossip? Such as if you accidentally glare at somebody when really you’re just thinking about your sheep?”

He frowned, and she laughed. “See? Like that. If I didn’t know you better, I would think you were angry with me.”

“I suppose so.”

“I must say, it would be pleasant to be somewhere that was less populated with such...talkative people. And fewer people like Lady Tompson and Mrs. Smithwick.”

“It is nice.”

“Do you miss it?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Now, that was a tricky question; yes, he did, but he also already missed here, because he already missed her.

And he had found he did enjoy being in London, despite his preconceived notions of the city.

Here, he had the opportunity to meet people who were different from him, people who held differing views and looked different.

He supposed if he spent enough time here he would meet people who were similar to him, but that would be boring. He could go home for that.

“I suppose,” he said at last. “At least, there are some things I do miss. But,” he added, pulling her into his arms, “there are things I will miss when I have returned.” It was the closest he could come to revealing how he felt about her.

The closest he would ever come to telling her the truth: that he loved her.

That he wished he could spend the rest of his life with her.

“Don’t you dare get sentimental on me, Ram,” she said, sounding archly amused but also a touch skittish. He hoped he hadn’t scared her.

“Of course not,” he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Where else will I find a lady who is as generous as you without demanding more?” There.

That should placate her. “Or one who has such strong opinions on the treatment of women and children, and is willing to put everything aside to work toward those goals? Nor do I think it possible to ever find a lady who would willingly sponsor a young lady’s debut in exchange for a dilapidated building. ”

“You don’t find me...strident or overbearing, then?”

Her voice was quieter than usual, and she sounded slightly—but only slightly—vulnerable.

It was a rare moment, her revealing her insecurity. He wondered how long she’d kept her concerns about herself bottled up inside, too aware of what the people in her world would do to her if they suspected she had flaws they could exploit.

He had to answer carefully. That she was opening herself up to him like this was a delicate, precious moment he wouldn’t ruin.

“No.” He spoke with absolute sincerity. “You speak your truth, and you don’t shy away from a battle if there is justice to be served. There are not many people who can say that.” He took a breath. “You are true to yourself, Lady Drusilla Courtenay.”

“That’s Lady Drusilla Polyxeni Hester Courtenay to you, my lord,” she shot back, regaining some of her usual spirit. It was clear she wasn’t completely comfortable revealing her vulnerability.

“My goodness, what were your parents thinking?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not much, usually. They acted instead of thought. It caused many problems throughout my life, mostly for my older sister, but I do miss them. They were certainly true to themselves as well. I suppose I inherited that from them.”

“My thanks to your parents, then, if they produced such a fine individual as yourself.”

She was silent for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she said in a low, soft voice. “Thank you.”