She glanced up. “Yes?”
He nodded, his words choked. “Oh, yes.”
Encouraged, she took the tip into her mouth, rewarded by the grip of both his hands in her hair, destroying the remnants of her hairstyle. His fingers weaved into the curls, tugging relentlessly, which sent a new wave of arousal through her body.
Questions. She hadso manyquestions.
She pushed him deeper into her mouth, setting up a rhythm similar to what he had used on her. Goose. Gander.
Thomas whispered her name, and she felt his body began to tense, the muscles of his abdomen and thighs tightening under her hands. He took over the rhythm then, his hips moving up toward her face. While it surprised her a little, she knew how frantic she had been as her peak had approached, and she relaxed, holding tight but letting him set what pleased him the most. Guidance, while she still had the control.
In what felt like mere moments, he cried out, pushing her away. Rose fell back on her arse, stunned and annoyed for an instant. Then she watched as he took his cock in hand and turned away from her, a white stream shooting out over the mosaic.
Fascinated, she got to her knees again as she stared at how far the stream went, how much there was of it, and how suddenly Thomas seemed to collapse in on himself, breathless. His erection began to fade, and as he caught his breath, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat, cleaned himself, then tucked everything away, pulled down his shirt, and buttoned the fall of his trousers. He slumped against the bench, his hands at his sides.
“Boneless?” Rose folded her hands in her lap.
“Not even a metatarsal.”
“I did that?”
“You did indeed.”
“Thomas, I—”
“Yes?”
“I haveso manyquestions.”
He studied her. “I’m sure you do. I, on the other hand, have only one.”
Rose peered up at him, twisting her fingers in her skirt, half-afraid she knew what it was.
“Why?”
*
Thomas watched Rose’sface gyrate through a half dozen emotions, never looking at him. She stared at the tile beneath the bench as she finally whispered. “Is it not enough that I wanted to please you?”
“I am honored that you wanted to please me that way, but that is not all there is to it.” Her silence continued, and Thomas leaned over and grabbed her arms, pulling her back to the bench. She settled in beside him, her hands still clenching her skirts. “Rose, does this have anything to do with—with what happened at the ball?”
She shrugged, staring out at the tall hedges surrounding them, as if what had once been a sanctuary was suddenly a prison. “Beatrice said—” She stopped, chewing on her lower lip. She glanced down a moment, and he knew her gaze was fixed on the remnants of his climax.
Thomas waited.
She swallowed hard, then continued. “Beatrice talked about how much she and her husband enjoyed—what I did. But she also said it was the only time she felt completely... in charge.” She looked down at her hands. “What he did. I could not stop him. I could not have stopped any of it. He was going to hurt me.” Rose put her hands over her face, and her shoulders hunched forward with the first sob.
Thomas put his arms around her, pulling her close, one hand urging her to put her head against his shoulder. She resisted at first, then relented, slumping into him as one hand clutched his coat. He tried to keep his voice even, even as a renewed fury at Roger Bentley began to build in his gut. What that man had done to this extraordinary woman...
“No one could have stopped them that night. No one alone.”
She looked up at him. “You did.”
“Because they were not prepared. And I was armed.”
“But I could not have stoppedyoueither. I have never seen anyone like that. That angry. That fierce. The way you moved. It was over in seconds.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes, confused. “Why would you have wanted to stop me?”
