The Master's Mistress

She felt weak at the knees just looking at him!

‘Put your legs around me, Beth,’ he instructed her as he easily lifted her back up onto the worktop.

She raised her gaze dazedly. ‘What—?’

‘Just do it…!’ he growled.

Bewildered, Elizabeth shifted forward slightly, her hands clinging to Rogan’s shoulders as she wrapped her legs about his waist, groaning low in her throat as the heat of her core now pressed against the hard, silken arousal that had already given her such pleasure.

That same pleasure flooded her again, heated her, and her neck arched in supplication as Rogan bent his head and his lips and tongue took possession of one hard and sensitised nipple, teeth gently biting. The sensations rocketed through Elizabeth’s body to once again centre between her parted thighs.

She felt Rogan against her there, even as he continued to kiss her breasts, the tip of his shaft gently probing her dampness, slowly widening her as, inch by inch, he slid into her, filling her completely until she had no idea where she ended and he began. She arched her hips into him, crying out as he slipped even deeper inside.

‘What the—?’ Rogan stilled abruptly, his startled gaze raised to hers as he felt himself come up against a barrier that had never been breached. ‘Elizabeth—’

‘Don’t stop now, Rogan!’ she pleaded.

‘But—’

‘Don’t stop!’ Elizabeth’s gaze was fierce on his, her fingers digging into the muscled strength of his shoulders, and she was the one to thrust her hips forward, taking all of him, her eyes widening slightly as Rogan tore through that barrier.

Rogan had never experienced anything like being inside Elizabeth. The heat of her. The silken perfection of her as she closed tightly around him. The pleasure that coursed through him as she once again clung to his shoulders and slowly began to move herself up and down the rigid length of his shaft.

Oh, dear God, the pleasure…!

He couldn’t stop now.

He couldn’t…

Chapter Ten

‘WHAT the hell did you think you were doing?’ Rogan demanded accusingly as he pulled on his jeans and fastened them.

‘What do you mean?’ Elizabeth asked as she finished dressing before looking up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the bareness of his chest, covered in the silky dark hair that she had caressed only minutes ago. ‘I thought you were seducing the Britten heiress,’ she reminded him tartly.

A seduction that hadn’t turned out at all as Elizabeth had expected it to!

Oh, there had been the promised pleasure. So much pleasure that Elizabeth still blushed to think of the way she had climaxed over and over again as Rogan had promised she would. The most explosive, the most forceful, being when Rogan had joined her in a climax so fierce that it had left them both breathless and sated.

It was only now, afterwards, that she was confused. Rogan seemed so distant. So angry.

‘I was your first lover, damn it,’ he said harshly, even as he ran an agitated hand through the dark thickness of his hair.

Long hair that Elizabeth had tangled her fingers in only minutes ago, as Rogan had pleasured her until she screamed out loud…

She had to stop thinking about the intimacies they had shared. Had to concentrate on what was happening now. Whatever that was…She shrugged. ‘Your point being…?’

‘You’re twenty-eight years old!’ Rogan exclaimed.

‘What does my age have to do with anything?’ Elizabeth forced herself to remain calm. In control. Knowing that one of them being angry was quite enough for the moment.

Rogan shook his head. ‘I didn’t know there were any twenty-eight-year-old virgins left in the world!’

She grimaced. ‘Perhaps there aren’t now…’

His eyes glittered in warning. ‘This isn’t the time for your slightly warped sense of humour, Elizabeth.’

She gave a heavy sigh. ‘Perhaps if you stopped making such a drama out of everything…’

‘A drama?’ Rogan repeated, still shocked to the core at his discovery that he had been Elizabeth’s first lover. And knowing that had felt so good…!

He had never experienced anything remotely like the ecstasy of being inside Elizabeth. She had been so tight. So pleasurably, erotically tight…

‘The drama, as you put it, Elizabeth,’ he continued, ‘is that I obviously didn’t use any protection! Not that it’s very likely that you’ll become pregnant from just that one time—’

‘You’re right. I won’t!’ Elizabeth glared at him.

Rogan scowled darkly. ‘What exactly does that mean?’

Elizabeth couldn’t believe the two of them were arguing like this. Minutes ago they had been making love together. As Rogan had promised, Elizabeth had climaxed so many times she had lost count. And Rogan’s own release had almost brought him to his knees. Now, instead of a pleasurable aftermath, a sated intimacy, the two of them were all but shouting at each other.

She gave a weary sigh. ‘It means that for medical reasons I’m on the pill.’

Rogan’s eyes narrowed ominously. ‘What sort of medical reasons?’

‘Personal ones—oh, for goodness’ sake, Rogan!’ she snapped as he raised dark brows. ‘I’m not used to discussing such personal things with another person,’ she added awkwardly.

Rogan crossed those muscled arms over his chest. ‘Get used to it.’

Her glare intensified. ‘About five years ago I had irregular and very painful, heavy periods and my doctor prescribed the pill. I’ve been on it ever since. Satisfied?’ She shifted uncomfortably.

‘I guess…’ he muttered.

What had Elizabeth expected to happen after she and Rogan had made love? That he would fall down on his knees and proclaim everlasting love for her? That he would tell her he couldn’t live without her? That he wanted her to marry him before he carried her off back to America with him?

No, she hadn’t thought Rogan would do any of those things.

She had only hoped that he might…

Because she was in love with him? Oh, please God, she couldn’t have fallen in love with a man whose every word and action proclaimed his need for freedom from emotional entanglement!

‘Let’s just leave this, please, Rogan,’ she suggested huskily as his face darkened. ‘It’s a bad time for any sort of discussion about what happened just now, with your father’s funeral this afternoon.’

‘Next you’ll be telling me that’s the reason we made love in the first place,’ he gritted out. ‘A human need to reinforce our own mortality!’

‘No, I won’t be claiming that, Rogan,’ she said quietly. ‘I have no idea what happened just now. Or why it happened. It just did.’ And neither Elizabeth nor her heart would ever recover from it!

‘That’s honest, anyway!’

Her eyes glittered angrily. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever been other than honest with you.’

‘You just forgot until today to mention that you were the Britten heiress!’

Elizabeth stiffened. ‘I didn’t forget, Rogan, I just don’t consider it anyone else’s business but my own.’

Rogan sighed. ‘And to think I wondered—only briefly, I admit—if you hadn’t been the one to take those first editions.’

She frowned. ‘Thanks for the trust!’

His eyes glittered unapologetically. ‘As far as I’m concerned trust is earned, not given. And the fact that you forgot to mention who your mother was, or that you were still a virgin—’

‘Will you just get over it, Rogan?’ she bit out impatiently. She was tired, so very tired, of Rogan’s accusing tone. Especially when she suspected—feared—that she had fallen in love with him. ‘If it doesn’t bother me, I can’t imagine why on earth it should bother you.’

Rogan glared at her in total frustration for several long seconds, before turning away to run another agitated hand through the long length of his hair.

Why did Elizabeth’s virginity bother him? Rogan had no idea. He only knew that it did.

As did the thought of any other man making love to her. Ever.

There had been dozens of women in his life these last fifteen years. In his bed. But he had never been any woman’s first lover before. To know that he had been Elizabeth’s, that she had never shared her body that way with any other man, that no other man had ever seen how beautiful she looked in the throes of pleasure, brought out a fierce possessiveness in him that was totally alien to him. A possessiveness that Rogan didn’t want to feel. For any woman. Least of all Elizabeth Brown, the Britten Heiress!

He turned back to her, his expression guarded. ‘You’re right. Now isn’t the right time for this conversation. You have work to do this morning, and so do I. But—’

‘No buts, Rogan,’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘As you said, twenty-eight is rather old to still be a virgin. And if I was going to take a lover, it was as well for me to take an experienced one, don’t you think?’ she dismissed offhandedly.

‘You really don’t want to know what I’m thinking right now!’ he said.

No, perhaps she didn’t, Elizabeth acknowledged wearily. No doubt Rogan was used to making love with women who knew what they were doing. Practised, experienced women, who knew how to give him the same pleasure he so satisfyingly gave them.