Chapter Eighteen

Rosamunde swallowed down the scream that hovered, waiting for the right moment to escape. This was Bryn, the man who’d defended her to her own family.

Right? Yes, yes he was.

The man who had delivered her to such ecstasy.

And yet, it wasn’t.

His blue eyes were hard as ice. Nothing was soft on him, in more than just his physical appearance. Before she’d often been able to see a hint of levity in his expression as he teased her or his friends. That no longer existed.

His strong jaw was firmly clenched, showing how much he struggled to keep from yelling. The desire was there, she knew the look well. So yes, he was right, it was too late.

For either of them.

And he’d been correct on something else. She was scared, she wasn’t used to this side of him. Even when he boxed, she watched his power and grace. The man had a tight hold on his emotions, never allowing that control to slip. She no longer saw that in him.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

Flames flickered in his eyes as that stone jaw somehow grew harder. “Not helping your case.”

Her stomach flipped over and words rushed out in a desperate attempt to get him to understand she had a legitimate reason to be down here. “We got a new baby at the orphanage, they said her mother had worked here. An Indian woman. I think. She’d been beaten and died from her injuries.” She lifted her chin. Was the woman someone he’d been with?

Why does it matter? You’re here to help the baby, not to find out about the women he takes to his bed.

“And what, you thought you’d just come down here and demand the owner help out a whore’s baby?”

She gulped. “You’re an ass. I don’t like you right now.”

His laugh held no humor. “I don’t care. You came down to this gaming hell, demanding to talk to one of, if not, the most dangerous man in London. What the hell were you thinking, woman?”

She didn’t flinch from the fury in his tone. Despite his anger, she didn’t fear for one moment he would hit her like others in her life did.

“I was thinking the baby should have someone stand up for her since apparently men like you think it’s okay to fuck then toss a woman to the side, who cares if she has another person to take care of in her life. It’s a woman, she means nothing so long as she spreads her legs like a good whore and doesn’t complain about the beating laid on her.” She shoved him. “Right?”

“Now’s not the time to push me, Rosamunde.” His words escaped on a low thread of fury.

“I don’t care,” she bit off, pounding her hands against his chest.

He rumbled low and moved closer, his thick thigh finding its way without hesitation between her legs, no matter all the clothing around them. Bryn thrust his thigh up, lifting her on her toes. Her body clamored for her to rock her hips against his hard muscle. Seek the relief that this man had provided her once before.

“You should.”

Defiance filled her as she tipped her head back to hold his smoldering gaze. “Was she one of yours? Is this where you come to find pleasure?”

The blue of his eyes deepened and swirled with warning. “Stop while you’re ahead, lioness.”

Wisdom told her to heed his advice. However, when she opened her mouth to reply, she bit his chin.

A low growl rose from his chest, vibrating through her where they touched, even that most intimate of places.

“Let me go,” she snapped at him.

He gripped her chin, tipping her head back, and put them nose to nose. “You bit me.” A bit of shock lingered. Even so, she couldn’t deny the hunger there either.

She had, hadn’t she? Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that fact. Nor to be embarrassed or shocked by her behavior. Something about Bryn brought to life a wildness within her. One she didn’t know if she could, or wanted to, control.

“I want to speak with the owner.”

Fury rippled along his frame and if anyone had asked her, she would have sworn there was a wild animal in the room with her. Seconds later, thoughts stopped as his mouth covered her own.

He didn’t ask for permission, Bryn took.

Took everything she had and demanded more from her. Fingers curling into his shirt, she gave him all he asked for without even considering refusing. The edge to him, the anger, the vibration in the air all around them, increased with danger each second their lips were together.

He engulfed her. His tongue thrust deep, tangling with her own, twining around it only to dance away and demand she follow. Heart thundering in her chest, all she could do was as he insisted. Bryn didn’t give her the opportunity to lead and honestly, she wasn’t sure where to go.

This man was so much. In every sense of the word. Callused fingers gripped her chin, angling her head where he wanted her. Then he delved deeper.

Rosamunde groaned as she surrendered to his mastery. Whatever he wanted, she didn’t care, he could have it all so long as he continued to make her feel like he was doing right now. Spreading her fingers out against his shirt, over his chest, she marveled at the muscles playing beneath it.

She jumped when his teeth sank into her lower lip and she opened her eyes, finding that dark swirling blue focused on her. Holding her gaze, he released her and allowed his tongue to sneak out and flick along the spot he’d just bitten.

When he released her face, she whimpered only to gulp when his large, strong hands settled against her waist. Seconds later, he’d lifted her against the wall and placed his hardness between her legs, like her skirts weren’t any hinderance to him knowing where he wanted to go.

His shaft rubbed against her, hard and blatant. She gasped as he claimed her mouth once more. Heat coursed through her, burned her. His taste poured into her, soothing part of her even as it ignited another craving, a much deeper one.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for more, for something only he could provide her. His chest pressed tight to her, smashing her breasts and yet at the same time making her hunger for it to continue. For their clothing to disappear and for them to be skin to skin.

He tasted of smoke and a hint of warm whiskey. Tearing his mouth off hers, he levered kisses against her face and down along her exposed throat. She tipped her head back so it too, rested against the wall as she offered more of herself to him.

Bryn grasped her hips and slid his hands along the backs of her thighs as he encouraged her to wrap her legs around him. Wait, when had he’d gotten his hands beneath her skirts?

He didn’t hold her like he feared she would break. Rosamunde figured she’d have bruises from where he gripped her. Like if he didn’t hold her tight, she may slip away. Honestly, she relished that feeling, relished knowing he was desperate to keep her close.

Admonishments from his mouth gave her pause right until he slammed his mouth back over hers. He licked and savored her all while he mentally yelled at himself. Her legs threatened to relax completely with each different slant of his lips on hers, and she had to constantly retighten her grip on his waist. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think past the feelings he roused within her body.

The stubble covering his jawline roughed up her skin as he slipped from her lips to the overly sensitive spot behind her ear and nipped.

“Bryn.” His name whooshed out from her.

He reared back, almost like he feared he’d harmed her. The eyes that met hers weren’t the same as they’d been seconds ago. The hunger and need in them had been banked. Not anymore. Now there was nothing but raving need.

For me.

She rocked her hips against him, bringing her core against his hard length.

“Don’t do that,” he moaned, jaw clenched so tight the cords on his neck stood out. Cords she wanted to bite. Even as he told her not to, he angled her hips, bringing more of a connection between them.

She couldn’t stop it if she wanted to. And she didn’t.

Bryn grasped onto the last shred of his control with every single bit of strength he had within his body. This woman, this voluptuous woman with curves for days and a spirit that made him smile so much, was against him. Had her pussy against his cock and he wanted nothing more than to rip away the thin barrier between them and submerge himself fully inside her heat.

And he knew it would be hot. Tight. And fucking unbelievable.

Another inch of his grip slid away.

She nibbled on her lower lip and he felt like an ass as the doubt began to creep into her gaze. He’d done that to her. Made her doubt her beauty, her desirability, her worth . Somehow, he just knew. It wasn’t the place they were. It was his hesitation. Sure, her family had done one hell of a number on her as well but this was different. He’d been the one who released the passion in her and now he was the one who’d made it fade.

He couldn’t live with that. No matter what the future held for them both. And in his heart, which was at war with his brain, he didn’t think they had one together. Didn’t matter. He had to make this right. Had to show her she was perfect.

For me. This woman is perfect for me.

Shifting his weight so his cock settled more directly against the linen covering her, he flexed one hand on her hip, ignoring the weight of all her layers, making sure his fingers dug into her. He needed her to know how much she was wanted, by him.

Ghosting his mouth over hers he murmured, “You’re too fucking good for me, Rosamunde.” He nipped her jaw like she’d done him, reveling in the way her entire form shivered. “The things I want to do to you. How filthy I long to make you. Fill you full of my seed. Put my marks all over you. Make you hoarse from screaming my name.”

He slid a hand between them, not bothering to hide the moan of pure pleasure he got from finding her soaked.

“You’re going to kill me, baby.”

She grabbed his shoulders, her short nails digging into his flesh. Her full lips parted as she rocked her head back a tiny bit more, offering up the smooth skin of her neck.

The red abrasions on her creamy skin, made by him, pushed him over. His control snapped.

Cupping her heated core, he slammed his mouth over hers. Needing everything from her and demanding nothing but that. She moaned as his fingers rubbed her through the cloth, determinedly searching for the slit in her undergarment keeping him from his treasure.

He drew on her lower lip, moving back until he could see her eyes, hazy from want. Holding her gaze, he paused at her core then pushed through the damp curls into her heat.

The tightness choked his finger…and his cock thumped an unpleasant reminder that it didn’t much care to be neglected like this. Her wetness coated his digit as he set a slow pumping rhythm.

Lips parting with a gasp, she panted as her hips worked instinctively with his thrusts. A fistful of her ass and he pulled out of her wet slit, and pressed the hard line of his shaft against her, even though it still remained behind his trousers. Thumb on the taut bundle of nerves, he circled and rubbed as he continued to provide her friction against him.

She tunneled her fingers into his hair and tugged as she panted his name like a prayer. Or a curse.

“Give it to me, baby.”

Yanking on his hair, she glared at him. “Take me.”

Holy Christ, he didn’t have a shred of honor left, not defiling her in this manner, but for one thing—he’d not taken her virginity.

“You deserve to give that to your husband.”

Anger sparked, dampening the desire in her gaze. “That man will be my jailor. If you don’t…”

A growl of anger rolled from him. Yes, he’d brought it up, but hearing her talk about another man while she was grinding against him, using him to chase her orgasm, pissed him off to no end. This was his woman and fuck it if another was going to have the pleasure or the fucking privilege of seeing her in such a manner.

Hands around her ass, he walked them from the wall to the medium-sized bed against the other wall. Following her down, he kissed her and started to remove his clothes.

“Fuck me,” he muttered as he lavished kisses along her throat and over her breasts.

With a frustrated growl, he ripped off the fancy lace over top of the dress, keeping her covered from neck to neckline but offering himself a tantalizing peek at her pale, smooth skin.

He knelt over her, his legs between hers. Her skirt sat rucked up around her waist as she allowed him to continue pressing into her core. Hooking his finger in her neckline, he tugged. Once.

Bryn groaned as a bolt of pure lust slammed him sideways. Full breasts with rosy pink nipples. More than a handful, and he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on them.

“Bryn,” she whimpered.

Readjusting so he wouldn’t crush her, he used both hands on her full breasts. Hefting them, plumping, teasing. With his thumb and forefinger, he tweaked her already hard nipples.

She shifted beneath him, those pretty little moans that had him harder than iron growing louder as she moved against his dick. Holding her gaze, he dipped his head while lifting one breast to suck her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh God!”

He settled on his heels, using his free hand to hook her leg around his waist, needing her as close as possible. Bent at the waist, he lavished attention on both breasts, not leaving them alone until they both shone with his kisses and had to burn from his facial hair on them. Marking each one. Marking her.

As she panted harder, he slipped his hand between them once more, pushing unerringly back into her wetness.

“You’re so fucking wet, lioness. And it’s all for me, isn’t it.”

He wasn’t asking. He knew it was and he wouldn’t share for the world.

A few shallow pumps of his wrist and he avoided her reach so he could inch down her body, using his shoulders to keep her legs spread.

“You can’t.” Her protest fell on deaf ears.

The scent of her arousal on his fingers had driven him crazy enough, but now, right there, he wanted more.

“So fucking pretty.” He shifted and got his hands on her clothing before he yanked, ripping her undergarments wide, leaving no further barrier between them.

“You… You…”

“Yeah, baby. Me. I did.” Dragging his hand over her cleft, he paused when she dug her hands into his hair once more. Pain, a delicious erotic pain, sliced along his scalp, and he blew on her.

Wet. Pink. Intoxicating. This woman didn’t have a clue of the hold she had on him. Then again, perhaps she did. Wedging himself into a bit more comfortable a position, he cupped her full ass in his hands and lifted her to his mouth. Then he tasted Rosamunde Fletcher.

Son of a bitch . He’d not been prepared. Honey and spice. A flavor he wouldn’t ever get enough of. Lifting his head, he took two deep breaths.

“Look at me.” He gave the order, refusing to be denied.

She lay sprawled out on the bed, her bunched-up skirt a barrier between his gaze and hers. He wasn’t okay with that, needing her gaze on him.

Rosamunde lifted her head and set it back down.

He nipped the tender skin of her inner thigh and repeated his demand. This time she lurched up, resting on her elbows, face flushed and eyes begging for something he didn’t doubt she didn’t have the confidence to voice.

Making sure their gazes remained locked, he moved his chin down and used his thumbs to spread her wide before allowing himself a long, slow lick up her center. She trembled and his cock punched into the bedding beneath them.

“Fucking addicted.” He dragged his tongue up once more, circling her clit before he sucked it into his mouth. Her chin trembled as she shook, trying to keep herself up.

“Tell me to stop, lioness, and I will.”

She ran her tongue along her lower lip, mimicking his move to pull in more of her unique taste. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Good, because it would have been hell to find the strength to do so.

Retaining his hold on her gaze, he rotated his hand and teased her opening as he sucked her clit into his mouth. Rosamunde arched her back, head dropping along with her gaze. Those chestnut strands gleamed in the fire and lantern light in the room, tousled as if he’d already spent the night pleasuring her.

The primitive side of him longed to demand she watch him. See who was doing this to her, but he didn’t. Instead he slid one finger deep inside her, paused, then added a second. Much like he had in the tub, he pumped, twisted and turned them, making her thighs tremble. The velvet muscles rippled around him and he knew she was just about there.

His need to see her lose all control for him bit at his heels and without thought he dipped closer and sucked her clit into his mouth, flicked it with his tongue then nipped. She exploded around him, arching up, nearly dislodging him as she screamed his name to the room. He didn’t relent as she rode her release out and sagged back to the bed with a soft satisfied sigh.

Unwilling to stop yet, he continued his assault on her, but he did so with a gentle touch. Nearly petting. Helping her settle after the fall. Only when she had released his hair did he pull away from her, her essence on his face, her taste forever embedded in his soul.

This woman could very well be the death of him.

His dick hurt it was so hard but he ignored his discomfort and kissed his way back up her body until their lips once again tangled together. Then he pulled her to him.

“You didn’t find pleasure.” Her words were soft and he would have sworn he felt the heat from her face against his chest.

“Seeing you fall apart by my touch was pleasure for me, lioness. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you give yourself completely to me. It’s a treasure I will never forget.”

Her body remained limp and sated beneath him and he curled around her, holding her close until her deep breaths evened out.