The Infamous Rogue Part 26

More!

He wanted more from her. He wanted to unleash every desire she had buried, every pa.s.sion she had smothered inside her. He wanted her to ache and throb and weep for him. And him alone.

You can't live without me.

He slowly raked his fingers along her leg, tickled the hollow at her knee. He caressed her warm thigh, stroked her b.u.t.tocks as he licked her quim. He thirsted for the heady juices.

She cried out in pleasure.

Louder!

She twisted his hair around her fingers, pinched his scalp. She pressed him harder against her core.

"Oh, James!"

That throaty cry; it made him burn. He gripped her b.u.t.tocks with both his hands, kneaded the plump flesh as he feasted on her most sensitive part.

She lifted one leg and draped it over his shoulder, giving him greater entrance to her pulsing arousal. He could feel her belly heave and quiver against his sweating brow, each gasp a soft cry of bliss, urging him to work faster, harder to give her release.

He slipped his tongue into her quim, so hot.

"Yes," she screamed. "Yes!"

He was hard. So hard for her. He pul ed back and licked his lips, still hungry for her. He grabbed her hips, twisted her around, and pressed her against the door.

"What are you doing," she demanded breathlessly.

"Trust me, sweetheart."

He grabbed the knife.

She stiffened.

He sliced the back of the shift. She gasped again. He stabbed the wall with the blade before he tore the rest of the garment, exposing her delicious a.r.s.e. The cheeks so white and creamy, he grunted in pleasure.

He kissed her b.u.t.tocks. Nibbled.

She writhed against the door. "James, please!"

He wrestled with the b.u.t.tons at his trousers and parted the flap. He lifted to his feet.

He was stiff and ready for her. "Open for me, sweetheart."

Sophia thrust out her a.r.s.e. He was taller than she, so she had to stand on her toes, while he had to bend his knees. He grabbed her hips and guided her over his erection.

She sobbed with pleasure to feel that familiar thickness inside her again. The heat. The powerful heat.

Like no other.

"Tell me, sweetheart." He thrust once. Twice. Slowly. Deeply. "Does it feel good?"

She gasped. "Yes."

So good!

So very good!

James rocked against her b.u.t.tocks. It took him a minute to find the right rhythm. Their rhythm. But once he had recovered it, he moved within her with purpose. Strong and steady thrusts.

Sophia pressed her cheek against the door. She let him take her. Fill her. Blood throbbed through her veins. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s ached and swelled as she undulated against the barrier. The friction teased her nipples, so sensitive, and she reached for the cords at her bodice to relax the garment.

But James was there first. He slipped his robust hand along her midriff and cupped an aching breast, making her moan with delight before he gripped the lacing between his fingers and pulled.

The bodice stretched. He shoved his fingers inside the material and kneaded the sore and tender flesh.

"Yes!" she cried.

She placed her hand over his. Their fingers worked in harmony to give her the pleasure she longed for.

She had missed him. She had missed the man's intimate touch. He moved inside her the right way. She didn't need to tell him what she wanted or even how she wanted it. He knew. He just knew.

He let go of her breast. She made a grousing noise before she cupped the raw flesh and kneaded it herself. But he'd had to let go. He grabbed her hips again. He needed both his hands to properly guide her over his erection, to keep the thrusts strong and steady.

He pressed his thumbs against her backside. The man's fingertips gripped her hipbones as he maintained control, pumping into her quim with measured strokes. Not too slow.

Not too fast. He was teasing her senses. She cried out for more.

Take me.

The energy inside her welled and welled. It was ready to burst. She had held it in for so long, since the night of the ball. She had seen him for the first time in seven years that night. And slowly it had been building. Slowly the need had been working its way through her bones and muscles, her heart and mind. And now it was time. Now it was time to let go of all that energy and frustration.

Take me.

She clenched her quim.

He grunted to feel the tightness. He liked it tight. The man had control. He had the power to take her slowly-or swiftly. But she knew him, too. She knew how to get what she wanted out of him without a word.

"Tell me, James," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "Does it feel good?"

He grunted again. The hard and raspy breathing, the guttural groans as he worked harder to get inside her, thrilled her. The burning pressure within her strengthened as she heard him making love. He was loud. She liked it loud. She liked to hear from his lips what she was doing to him.

Take me.

He thrust harder. Deeper. Swifter. He lifted her toes off the ground as he plunged into her. Again and again.

"Yes," she screamed. "Yes!"

He touched every sensitive part of her. He snagged her wits, her senses, and she responded to his every command.

Take me!

She surrendered to him. She gave him everything. He sensed the capitulation, for he undulated in quick and piercing strokes. It was a dance. A wild and quick dance. In sync.

In harmony.

The o.r.g.a.s.m came. Her muscles throbbed. So sweet and hot. She cried out as the energy poured through her veins and tears filled her eyes. Tears of joy. And satisfaction. The afterglow was intoxicating, the sated feelings so incredible, she started to weep.

Sophia cried freely as he grinded his hips against hers, seeking his own desperate release. And with a feral cry he found it. He poured himself into her, the moist heat fil ing her. She tightened her muscles again, giving him the friction he needed to come.

She was so weak. She had lost everything to him and she wanted to sink to the floor, but he maintained a st.u.r.dy hold of her hips.

"Oh, sweetheart."

He pressed his heavy chest against her sweating back and dropped his chin on her shoulder. The man's breath was loud and fierce beside her ear. She matched his savage gasps. Together they breathed. Together their hearts beat as one.

He kissed her cheek.

She shuddered.

He had a tender side. It was achingly soft at times, but it was so well concealed. It was only in times of great peace that he dropped his iron front and let the tenderness show.

He wrapped a stout arm around her midriff, keeping her close. He circled his other fingers under her chin and guided her features to meet his.

She did as he silently bade. She pressed her cheek against his throat and lifted her mouth. He lowered his head and touched her lips, kissing her softly, gently...lovingly.

The tears came fresh. Not tears of satisfaction, but tears of pain. Such raw and aching pain, she sobbed.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

He stroked her chin, her trembling lips with his thumb. He kissed her temple, taking in the briny tear that had spilled from the corner of her eye.

Why? she screamed in her head. Why wasn't I good enough for you all those years ago?

"Let me go, James."

She b.u.mped his hip, telling him to step aside. He curled both his arms around her instead. And squeezed. Tight.

Hold me.

She wanted to step inside him, to shed her skin and become one with him. He'd want her then. If she was a part of him, he'd care for her. She would be good enough for him then.

She jabbed her elbow into his gut. "I said let go!"

He didn't.

"I know who you really are, Sophia. You will never be happy in this world with anyone else but me. You are your true self only with me."

She gasped at the words, burning in her ears.

No!

"You want me," he said roughly. "You belong with me."

She wanted him privately, quietly, intimately. But not publicly. Never publicly. The pirate lord's wh.o.r.e? No! She would never be that again.

"I belong with the earl," she said defiantly. "I belong with anyone else but you!"

His belly ballooned against her back as he took in a sharp breath of air. He let her go.

She pressed her body against the cold door for support.

He stepped back. The chill was biting. She didn't look at him, though. She didn't have to, for the man's brutal expression, his cold eyes were there in the air; they pierced her spine.

She pressed her face against the door and quietly cried.

Chapter 16.

S ophia stared at the rows of boxes. The structures flanked the quiet street. Impressive.

Uniform. But one town house stood out from the rest. A few months ago, it had needed repairs. Lady Lucas had been living in poverty for many years. But now it looked so officious and grand: a solid structure of grace and superiority. Sophia had funded the refurbishment. The edifice was three stories high, pristine white, and surrounded by a spiked iron fence.

Keep out.

She curled her fingers into her palms, staked her nails through the skin. The sharp pain eased the stress in her belly. Would she be welcome inside the abode? A grisly darkness enveloped the slumbering city. There was no one in the street to whisper snide comments or to offer sneering looks. Was she ruined? There was only one way to determine the truth: she had to confront Lady Lucas.

Sophia opened her fists and pulled in a deep breath. She was back on land, but she sensed the ground moving beneath her feet, making her woozy...She sensed the pirate lord's eyes on her, too.

James was part of the interminable darkness. He lurked in the shadows. He waited for her to enter the house. She had asked him not to come with her. She had asked him to remain aboard the Bonny Meg. But the stoic captain had rebuffed her request. Not in words. He had uttered no words. He had simply followed her off the ship. She had sensed his presence throughout the cab ride to the city. And she felt him now. He remained elusive. She didn't see him. But he was there. She knew it.

You are your true self only with me.

The words danced in her head, resounded in her soul. Even now the snug accoutrements squeezed her lungs and she ached for breath.

Was that all there was in life? To breathe and be free? She didn't have to hold her tongue or purify her thoughts with James. She didn't need to wear pinching corsets-or anything at all-with James. She didn't need to act or stand or sit in an uncomfortable manner with James. But no one would respect her if she remained with the pirate lord.

Not as his mistress. Not even as his wife, for the man was a pariah.

And yet her own social footing might be lost in England. She might already be a pariah, too...like poor Imogen.

Sophia swallowed the tart taste in her mouth. Freedom wasn't worth ostracism. She looked into the darkness.