Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

Another of those fiendish strokes. Another flash of response that pushed her to the edge but didn’t tumble her over into relief. Every muscle was on fire and only Jonas had access to lakes of cool water to ease her fever.

“You leave me no pride.” She stretched up in an instinctive attempt to snatch her bliss.

“I want your hunger.” For the first time, through the thunder in her head, she heard the strain in his voice. This long seduction wore him down, too. He wasn’t far from losing control.

“I hunger,” she admitted, hardly aware what she said.

“Not enough.”

“Will you tease me until I cede everything?” she grated, flattening her heels on the bed to change the angle of those satanically tormenting caresses.

“Hell, yes.” He bent to her nipple.

The rough friction of his tongue made her jerk against his stroking hand. She raised her hand to his head. This time when he thrust his fingers into her then retreated, she tugged sharply at his hair, eliciting a grunt of discomfort.

“You’re a beast.”

“Do you want me, Sidonie?” Demand throbbed in his voice.

He kissed her breast with such tenderness that it blasted a chasm in her heart. A chasm she suspected might never knit. He was a devil indeed.

And she was damned alongside him.

He kissed her other nipple with the same breathtaking tenderness. The hand in his hair relaxed into caress. Her pride seemed a paltry thing compared to this need. The desire. The admiration. The… affinity which she refused to dignify with a more potent name.

“Curse you, Jonas, of course I want you,” she admitted on a rush.

Finally he touched her where she needed him and release crashed down over her in a headlong torrent of rapture.

Chapter Eighteen

Jonas gave Sidonie no chance to recover from her climax. He inched inside her, feeling tantalizing resistance. Her hands clenched against his shoulders and she bowed up on a moan to take him deeper.

“Are you all right?” he asked roughly, holding still so she grew accustomed to his size. He’d hurt her last night. He couldn’t bear to hurt her again. The delay before she replied extended for a millennium. He prepared to withdraw, although stopping would break him. Then miraculously her body flowered around his and she inhaled on a shaky breath.

“Sidonie?” he prompted, although he felt how perfectly they fit.

“I’m fine.” Her choked laughter vibrated through him and almost made him spill himself. “More than fine.”

Thank God.

He buried his face in her shoulder, his senses replete with Sidonie. Her musky scent, her choppy gasps for air, the softness of her skin, the burnished flow of her hair. He shut his eyes and basked in the knowledge that in this instant she was unequivocally his. Their communication was silent and complete. They existed in a radiant world separate from harsh reality.

If only this connection could last forever.

Her hands relaxed against his shoulders. He relished the play of muscles around his cock as she caressed him from the inside. He’d never felt so cherished. He tightened his buttocks and pressed farther. She made a sound low in her throat.

“You’re… smiling,” she said breathily, stroking his arms down to his hands.

“How do you know?” He linked his fingers with hers, leaning his weight on his elbows. The union, body to body, hand to hand, mind to mind, was unearthly. She touched every atom of his being.

“I can feel it against my skin,” she said huskily. “It’s… nice.”

“What about this?” he asked gruffly, lifting his hips.

Again she met him. She gave another of those intriguing murmurs of pleasure. A man could become addicted to those murmurs the way an opium eater turned slave to his drug.

Very slowly he withdrew, relishing the way she released him inch by inch. She exhaled on a shivery sigh then sighed again when he thrust. Immediately there was that ineffable heat. How would he live without this? He’d been cold all his life. She made him feel alive.