A Lady and Her Magic (Faerie 1)

She nodded. “Ruined me for anyone else.” She heaved a sigh. “In your world, innocence is something that can be kept a secret. In mine, it’s not.”

“Yet you let me have it anyway.”

“One night,” she declared, tugging his hair to make him look into her eyes. “I needed one night.”

“One night,” he repeated. He probably sounded like an idiot.

“One night,” she whispered. Then she parted her thighs beneath him and rocked her hips. “Make it a wonderful night. One I’ll always remember.”

He lodged the head of his shaft inside her. But then he swiped a hand down his face and withdrew from her. She cried out beneath him, “Blast it, Ashley,” she groused.

“You’ll be ashamed of the time you spent with me,” he guessed. He rolled to his back and she climbed over him, looking down into his face.

“If you get a case of the vapors over this, Robinsworth, I will never forgive you.” Her hair hung down, draping them both in her auburn curls. Then she smiled at him and spread her thighs, settling over his manhood, rocking against his length. “Who would have thought you would be prone to fainting at the thought of taking a lass’s innocence?”

“When all my blood rages away from this head,” he said, pointing to his hair, “I suppose I could be prone to fainting.” He forced himself to match her playful mood.

“I like the path your blood has traveled,” she said as she lifted herself, straightening her arms, her breasts bare and high. He reached for one and tweaked her nipple. She spread her thighs farther, and the heat of her touched his shaft. He rocked his hips and slid his hands down her sides until he could reach between them and lodge his shaft at her entrance. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it.

“Since I have already ruined you, I see no need to repent at this point,” he growled, as he raised his hips and pulled her down to sheathe him in one solid stroke. She gasped, the noise rocking his very soul.

“My dangerous duke,” she cried out.

He was about as dangerous as a mouse, except to her, it seemed. To her, he was dangerous. He’d ruined her life. And now he insisted on taking even more from her. “Tell me you love me, again,” he ordered, rolling her beneath him.

“I can’t,” she cried out as he thrust inside her and retreated slowly, watching her face as he brought her pleasure.

“You can,” he urged. “Tell me. Just once more.” He reached a hand between them and began to rub that little nub he knew would take her over the top, while he moved slowly inside her wetness. She arched and cried out, drawing his mouth down to her breast. He teased her with his tongue against her nipple.

“Tell me,” he said. Then he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked it harshly, laving it with his tongue as he continued to torment her, continued to stroke within her. Continued to love her.

“I do,” she cried out. He hastened his fingers and sped his thrusts, and she wrapped her legs around him, locking her feet behind him.

“Tell me how you feel,” he grunted, ready to spill himself inside her, but he needed more from her before he could. He needed to know. He needed to know she loved him. Because, by God, he loved her with everything he had.

Sophia’s legs began to shake around him, and her arms quivered where she held tightly to his forearms.

“Tell me,” he grunted by her ear, thrusting in and out of her.

It wasn’t until a moment later, when she finally broke with the force of him loving her, that she screamed it. “I do love you,” she cried. Her lips touched his forearm, and then he felt her wicked little teeth nip at him. She squeezed his manhood in her quivering sheath, yet he forced himself to continue stroking her, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure she had from her very being. She lunged within his arms, the force of completion rocking them both as he came inside her, as he gave her everything he was, making them one in his heart and his mind.

When she stilled within his arms, and her arms fell away from him, and her legs lowered from around his waist, she stilled against the mattress as though he’d taken her very life. But then her eyes opened and she smiled at him, a sleepy little smile full of wicked intention.

“I do love you, you ninnyhammer,” she said with a grin. Then she tucked herself into his side and fell into an immediate and peaceful slumber. He drew her to him, ready to join her, but he couldn’t sleep yet. There was still too much to do. He had to keep her with him. And he had a mere few hours to figure out how to do so.

Twenty-Eight

A noise, soft and blunted, but loud and dangerous at the same time, jarred Sophia from sleep. She lay wrapped around Ashley’s long and lanky body, one naked calf tangled with his. She sat up on her elbow and looked down at him. Goodness, the man was beautiful in sleep. His face held none of the weariness that usually provoked a scowl. Sophia pulled her body back from his, and he reached for her in sleep.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Sleep.”

He grinned without opening his

eyes. “You’re still here.”

“For a few more moments,” she whispered back.

“How much longer?” he murmured.