Passion for the Game (Georgian 2)

They stared at one another, and she felt the questions between them like another body in the bed. “I wish I knew.”

“Let us find out together, then.” Lifting her thigh, he moved into place, the wide, smooth head of his cock slipping through the folds of her sex. “Take me inside you,” he rasped. “Let me in.”

Was it possible to learn a man’s character through sex?

“Tell me what happened to the witness who would have testified against you,” she whispered.

“Who wishes to know?” he rejoined.

Her breath caught, then grew more labored. “Christopher.”

Could he know? Was it possible? Surely, if he knew what she was about, he would not be touching her the way he was now.

“Let me inside you, Maria.” He nudged against her, pressing against the small slitted entrance to her body. “Make love to me, and I will give you the answers you seek.”

As she settled her leg over his hip and reached behind her to position him properly, her hand shook and her indrawn breath shuddered in her tight lungs. She circled his thickness with her fingers and altered the angle of his penetration. He slipped in a fraction, spreading her wide, making her neck arch in pleasure.

“More,” he murmured. “All the way inside you. As deep as I can go.”

She pressed down, filling herself with his heat and hardness, whimpering at how big he was and how much she enjoyed him.

Christopher caught her chin and turned her head to look upward. “Watch.”

Afraid to look, but helpless against the desire she had to see them together, Maria focused her lust-dazed vision and stared up at their reflection. His large, muscular body dwarfed hers, the top of her head was below his chin, the foot of her straightened leg ended at his midcalf. The skin of his torso and arms was tanned by the sun and seemed impossibly dark next to hers, which had rarely felt the direct kiss of sunlight. His golden hair was even paler when compared to her raven tresses. They were opposites on the exterior, yet inside they were the same.

They were perfect together.

“See?” he whispered, bringing her gaze up to meet his in their reflection. Together they watched as his cock disappeared inside her. Her lids grew heavy with the drugging pleasure of the slow glide, but she refused to close her eyes again. Christopher withdrew, his cock now slick and shiny with her cream, then his buttocks clenched and he sank into her again.

Her gaze lifted as he moved, her attention riveted by his gloriously perfect features, now flushed with lust. As he pumped into her again, unadulterated pleasure swept across his face, and when she looked at herself, she saw the same intensity.

“Now, tell me,” he whispered, in that deliciously raspy voice she adored. “Are we making love?”

She moaned as his hips buffeted hers in a perfect thrust.

“Tell me, Maria.” His gaze locked with hers in the mirror. “I am making love to you. Are you making love to me?” He pulled out and thrust again. Harder. Deeper. “Or is this nothing but sex?”

Could he fool her so well? Was he that expert at deception that he could fake this level of intimacy?

No matter how she tried to reconcile the information she had with the man in her arms, she couldn’t.

Maria wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. It was then she felt the wetness of tears on her skin. Whether they were hers or his, she could not tell.

“It’s more than sex,” she whispered, watching the flare of something sweet and possessive cross his beloved features.

He crushed her against him and began to fuck her in earnest, his lean hips working his cock into her with expert precision. She took him in return, with similar fervor, her gaze locked on the deeply erotic sight of their straining, intertwined bodies and the rigid, swollen shaft that pumped into her so quickly it was scarcely more than a blur.

Her mouth opened on a silent cry, her body tensing in the grip of a powerful, devastating orgasm. He growled and stroked through her spasms, murmured sex words and reverent praise that prolonged her climax until she thought she would die of it. Only when she settled weakly in his embrace did he ride her to his own completion, his cock jerking hard, then spurting harder, filling her, flooding her with his seed.

Breathing erratically, he took her mouth, sharing the air in their lungs.

Making them one.

Chapter 20

Amelia woke to a hand held over her mouth. Scared beyond measure, she struggled against her assailant, her nails clawing at his wrist.

“Stop it!”

She stilled at the command, her eyes opening wide, her heart racing madly as her sleep-fuzzy brain came to awareness of Colin looming over her in the darkness.

“Listen to me,” he hissed, his gaze darting to the windows. “There are men outside. A dozen at least. I don’t know who they are, but they are not your father’s men.”

She yanked her head to the side to free her mouth. “What?”

“The horses woke me as the men walked by the stable.” Colin stepped back and yanked off her counterpane. “I snuck out the back and came round to fetch you.”

Embarrassed to be seen in only her night rail, Amelia yanked the covers back over her.

He yanked them off again. “Come on!” he said urgently.

“What are you talking about?” she asked in a furious whisper.

“Do you trust me?” Colin’s dark eyes glittered in the darkness.

“Of course.”

“Then do as I say, and ask questions later.”

She had no notion of what was happening, but she knew he wasn’t jesting. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded and slipped from the bed. The room was lit only by the moonlight that entered though the window glass. The heavy length of her hair hung down her back in a thick, swinging braid and Colin caught it, rubbing it betwee

n his fingers.

“Put something on,” he said. “Quickly.”

Amelia hurried behind the screen in the corner and disrobed, then slipped the chemise and gown she had worn earlier over her head.

“Hurry!”

“I cannot close the back. I need my abigail.”

Colin’s hand thrust behind the screen and caught her elbow, tugging her from behind it so that he could drag her to the door.

“My feet are bare!”

“No time,” he muttered. Opening her bedroom door, he peered out into the hallway.

It was so dark, Amelia could barely see anything. But she heard male voices. “What is going—”

Moving with lightning speed, Colin spun and covered her mouth again, his head shaking violently.

Startled, she took a moment to understand. Then she nodded her agreement to say nothing.

He stepped out into the hallway with silent steps, her hand in his. Somehow, despite her shoeless state, the floorboard beneath her squeaked, when it hadn’t under Colin’s boots. He froze, as did she. Below them, the voices she had heard were also silent. It felt as if the house were holding its breath. Waiting.

Colin placed his finger to his lips, then he picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder. What followed was a blur. Suspended upside down, she was disoriented and unable to discern how he managed to carry her from her second floor bedroom to the lower floor. Then a shout was heard upstairs as she was discovered missing, and pounding feet thundered above them. Colin cursed and ran, jostling her so that her teeth ached and her braid whipped his legs so hard, she feared hurting him. Her arms wrapped around his lean hips and his pace picked up. They burst out the front door and down the steps.

More shouting. More running. Swords clashed and Miss Pool’s screams pierced the night.

“There she is!” someone shouted.

The ground rushed by beneath her.

“Over here!”

Benny’s voice was music to her ears. Colin altered direction. Lifting her head, she caught a glimpse of pursuers, and then more men intercepted them; some she recognized, others she didn’t. The new additions to the fray bought them precious time and soon she could not see anyone on their heels.