CHAPTER TWELVE

Drake's agile tongue traced her slit, skimming through the dark curls but never reaching the place Wren needed him.

"Deeper… Please… More…" If someone had told her last month that soon she'd be brazen enough to beg a notorious rake to lick her pussy, Wren would have collapsed from shock.

But something had changed within her.

Drake's focused attention watered the seeds of her confidence, and she'd bloomed like a flower reaching for the sun. He viewed her as a woman. A desirable woman worthy of clandestine meetings and exquisite bouts of lovemaking.

With Drake, Wren wasn't a spinster or a wallflower or part of the eccentric Preston family.

She was his little bird, meant to fly and relish the freedom his passion brought her.

"If you want more, darling, then hold yourself open for me." The rough command made her feel wanton, something she didn't think she could feel more of considering their current position. Considering their past positions.

Sliding hesitant hands lower, her thumbs slid between her slick folds, gently parting them for his touch, her hips canting forward again.

" Please. "

"My pleasure." The devilish grin on his face disappeared as his head dipped, and this time the rasp of his tongue licked over her sensitive flesh, no longer teasing but savoring with long, languorous strokes.

Wren moaned, widening her legs so his broad body could get impossibly closer.

It never felt like enough. No matter how many times they satisfied their lust for one another, a hollowness remained.

At first, she ignored the small hole that opened in her heart. Then, it grew. Each kiss of his lips, stroke of his hand, stretch of his cock. Each moment of camaraderie, laughter, and stimulating banter. The pieces piled together and chipped at her walls until her heart gave way, and an emptiness spread.

She liked Drake.

Could love him if given the chance.

But he wanted Miss Sharpe.

His friend's betrothed was the only reason Wren had a chance to experience the passion her life had been missing. She was only a diversion—a role she agreed to play.

And as the familiar crest of release rose within her, Wren clung tighter to Drake.

If this was all she'd ever have, then she'd extract every bit of pleasure she could from it. Perhaps it would dull the loss of Drake's friendship and desire once the house party ended and they went their separate ways.

Please.

This time she begged for a different reason. Wren prayed it would dull, or else she feared a future of unrequited longing.