At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“Make me wh-what?”

“Never mind.”

He resumed his oral teasing, each caress bringing her closer to something she desperately needed. Greystone continued the devilish antics until she could no longer control her breathing. And then he pulled away.

“No. Oh, Lord, not yet.”

A wicked smile graced his sensual mouth as he came up on his knees. “I’ll not leave you unsatisfied if that’s what you fear.” He unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them down past his hips. His shaft sprang free. Hard. Solid. Magnificent. “Sorry, it was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.”

Lydia gulped.

Greystone caressed her thigh, inched higher and higher, slipped one finger into her body, slow and teasing. But it was not enough to satisfy the ache in her core. He withdrew, only to plunge deeper this time.

A hum resonated in her throat.

“You want more?” Greystone said, his voice as rich as velvet.

“Yes,” she begged.

When he entered her again, she felt it more keenly though it wasn’t enough.

With the pad of his thumb, Greystone massaged the sensitive bud and continued to slip his fingers inside her.

“Do you want me, Lydia?”

Oh, how she loved the way he said her name. “Want you? I—I have never wanted anything more.”

All the muscles in her body wrung tight. She was close to something, close to—

She came apart. Waves of intense pleasure started in her toes and rippled through her body. She shuddered, swept away by the sheer magnitude.

“How was that?” He arched an arrogant brow.

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“Divine,” she replied breathlessly.

“Good.” He sat on the bed, removed his breeches and climbed on top of her.

The glow from the fire cast a golden light over the ridges in his abdomen, over bulging biceps and his jutting erection. Greystone wore masculinity like a suit of armour—with strength, with pride, with the promise that he was a master of all things, the champion of her heart.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he muttered in her ear as he sucked her lobe. “If we continue now, there is no going back.”

“I know.” She might never meet another man like him. She might never feel this all-consuming need. She might never feel … feel love. “I want you, Greystone. If I’m to lie with a man, I want it to be you.”

A growl of appreciation rumbled in his throat. “Call me Miles.”

“Miles,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek—and yet he would always be Greystone. “Join with me. Show me the world that exists beyond these walls.”

Without further comment, he kissed her until her heart soared. The room’s red walls and furnishings and the fire’s flickering flames created a setting ripe for seduction. As Greystone settled between her thighs, she imagined they were in the Orient, in an exotic location far away from Society’s critical eye. There, they could indulge their desires. She could lie naked in his arms while he read to her. They could feed each other fruit, savour the sweet juices. Make love beneath the heat of the midday sun.

The first nudge of his manhood at her entrance drew her from her musings to send her nerves scattering. But then he pushed inside her, and her body sparked to life. The pleasure gleaned from her fantasy paled in comparison.

They were one now.

A primal need to own him—the urge to claim him as her own—took hold.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he commanded.