The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

“Giles said…”

“I know what Giles said and did, and it worked for him. And in some ways, I understand why. But you’re not Giles. You don’t have an Ione waiting years to marry you.” She paused and shot him a quizzical glance. “You don’t, do you?”

He chuckled, his chest moving against hers as he did so. “No. No, I don’t.”

“And we have no idea what the ‘Gileses’ before our Giles did. Aphrodite Wolfbridge left plenty of rules, but her letter to the Lady makes no mention of not…not enjoying one gentleman, while having the others…”

Royce’s eyes heated as he stared down at her. “You mean that? You’d have me in your bed?”

She snorted. “Why are you asking? I already have, once. It was amazing. I’ll have you right this minute if you decide it’s what you want.”

He thrust his hips against her belly and she felt the rigid length of his cock pressing into her body. “What I want?” He shook his head. “If you can’t tell…”

She gazed into his eyes, hoping he could read her feelings. “I can tell. And I want it too. I’ve wanted you for what seems like forever…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want your cock inside me, Royce.”

His expression left no doubt in her mind. “I can’t…I can’t resist you, damn you.”

He swept her off her feet and carried her from the room.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Journal of Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge - January 1, 1819

What a wonderful way to begin a new year. Had someone told me last year what my New Year’s Eve would be like, I’d have scoffed and accused them of being quite disguised. Whereas, in fact, I believe I was more than a little disguised myself, although not sleeping and snoring loudly like Evan, Jeremy, Harry and Gabriel.

It is not hard to guess from that sentence that I was left alone with Royce, the two of us sober enough to converse and move around, yet relaxed enough from the whisky to be blunt as to our desires.

And to act on them.

I would never have forced or ordered Royce to my bed. It was his decision and his alone, but I cannot lie and say I was not thrilled to my slippers when he picked me up in his arms and carried me upstairs.

My wits were at war with my heart; I wanted him with a savagery that I could not deny. But I made no move other than to place my arms around his neck. If he had wished to drop me at my door or on my bed and then leave me? I would have missed him sorely and been quite sad, but I would have understood.

However, this was the night that he turned away from what he perceives as the dictates of his position. It was the night he claimed me, something I know I have wanted for no little time. When he kicked my door closed behind him, I knew he would stay. And I can barely describe the excitement and arousal coursing through me as I saw the look of desire on his face.

He let me slide down his body to my feet, making sure I felt his hardness beneath his breeches. Then he kissed me, long and passionately, his tongue delving within my mouth, teasing mine, darting around and finally mimicking the actions he would make on my person in a while. The hot sweet thrusts brought a moan to my throat; I cannot recall such an erotic kiss, such a strong and thorough invasion of my mouth.

But it was not enough for either of us.

He tore off his jacket, a movement betraying his need for me, since he’s normally quite particular about his manners. His cravat, waistcoat and shirt followed, and he unfastened his breeches before toeing off his boots. Then he turned to me, smiling as he knew I had watched him disrobe. I couldn’t help my gaze dropping to his evident arousal.

It would seem that made him happy, since he smiled even more widely, leaned to me and whispered “Patience.”

Then he turned me around and unlaced my gown, helping me push the long sleeves past my hands. The room was warm, so it was no hardship to let the heavy wool fall to the floor, leaving me in my chemise and stockings. I kicked off my slippers and Royce knelt, pulling the dress away from my feet, making sure I faced him again. 

Then his hands slid slowly up my legs and I looked down at his eyes as he untied my stockings.

He seemed intent, focussed, his gaze drifting over my bared thighs and calves. He stroked me with gentle hands, running them over and around my limbs, making me shiver with delight. He tossed the stockings onto the bed and then stood, unfastening my chemise and tugging it down, returning to his knees to help me step out of it. 

He stayed there, looking at me, at my thighs, my hips, my belly and finally touching my womanhood. 

What does one do when a man tells you that you are beautiful there? I know I blushed; I could feel my cheeks burning at his words and his gaze.

When he slid his hands up to my buttocks, grabbing them and pulling me into his face, I gasped and grabbed his shoulders lest I tumble on top of him.

It was a good thing I had that support since Royce’s tongue went to work once more, but this time between my legs. He pressed me close, suckling and licking and teasing the most sensitive of places, making me moan and spread myself wider so that he could do more. I so love this, having the firm feel of a man’s head between my thighs.

The sensation of his tongue, hot and wet, darting