The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

It wasn’t as if she could deny it. She nodded.

Glancing down, she saw that his cock was fully ready for her, long and hard and bowed up from his hips, the crown touching the hard, flat surface of his belly as he arched over her. Inside, her body rippled and clenched, reacting to the sight of his male virility.

“Instinct is a great thing, and when it leads to mutual pleasure I see no reason to deny such urges.”

Recognition pumped through Maisie. Whether he knew it or not he’d tapped into her true essence, because it was one of the fundamental beliefs of her kind. Passion was deeply connected to nature, and those who welcomed and explored it would be gifted with its bounty. The lingering embarrassment she felt was only because it was all new to her, but deep down she knew it was right and true.

Passion bound them to nature, and to each other.

Her breathing hitched.

She must not be bound to any man. That was why it had to be a stranger. The captain was a passionate man, a worthy man. Luck had been on her side. Meanwhile, at her center, her body ached for him again, the tenderized flesh freshly slick with wanting. Meshing her fingers in his thick hair, she did not attempt to resist calling him closer, inviting him to take her again. “Please,” she whispered. “Let us be as one again.”

He smiled roguishly. “Now that your maidenhood is gone, you find that you enjoy the bed tousle?”

Her hips rocked of their own accord, and she gripped his hip with one hand, eager to be undone while he was inside her again. “Sire, you know I cannot deny that. You are surely jesting.”

“A lusty wench you are.” He gave a low chuckle. “Lady or no, you cannot deny your nature.”

It was impossible to reply, because his comment said more about her than he realized. How strange it was, Maisie reflected. But it was more than empowerment. She had expected that, the enrichment of her magic. She felt it swelling within, powerful and ready. What she did not expect was the desire, the delicious desire for ravagement and completion.

“I cannot deny it, but you would not want me to, for you are also ready, are you not?” She nodded down at his engorged cock.

“Brazen, too,” he responded, then wrapped his fist around his erection, moving it up and down while she watched.

The action made her wild, the longing she felt doubling instantly. Moaning aloud, she lifted one knee, re

sting her foot flat to the bed, exposing herself.

“Oh, yes.” He ran the fingers of his free hand over her bared folds.

“Captain...” she pleaded.

His fingers stilled. “You must call me Roderick, or I will not answer.”

“Roderick,” she breathed. “Please.”

He smiled. Moments later he obliged her.

Moving over her, he arranged himself between her open legs, then kissed her mouth passionately. Lifting her easily with his hands beneath her bottom, he eased inside and filled her again.

His cock slid against her sensitive flesh more readily this time. For a moment there was soreness and pain, then she was flooded with pleasure. Clinging to him, she had never felt more grateful. He was a good lover, and Maisie knew she’d made a lucky bargain.

When he pushed deeper still, his hard length stretching and kneading her at her deepest point, she met his gaze. He stared down at her, admiration shining in his eyes, while he stayed still for the longest moment—right there at the place where she seemed to feel most sensitive to his manhood.

Emotion welled in her. She fought it back, focusing on the act, the carnal act and the joy and enrichment it would bring.

This man is someone I have done a trade with, nothing more.

Then she flung her arms around him, and urged him on.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was not long after dawn when Cyrus Lafayette’s carriage arrived in Mayfair and he requested an audience with Edward Russell, the first Earl of Orlford, a former member of the cabinet and first admiral of the British navy fleet. Cyrus and the earl were well acquainted, and Cyrus went to his London residence meaning to use that acquaintance to his advantage.

Because of the early call, he waited for almost an hour before he was granted an audience. Frustration drummed at his temples.

“I trust this is important, Lafayette,” the earl said as he received Cyrus in his chambers. He was hastily dressed and scowling.