Her own voice shocked her, but Robert smirked into her neck. “That’s it. Let me hear ye.”
Two fingers slid against her, parting her folds, circling the nub that made her thighs quake. He was merciless, steady pressure that drew moans she could not have swallowed if she tried.
“Robert, more.”
Her hips rocked helplessly, chasing every stroke until he pressed harder and her breath broke into ragged cries.
He ground his body closer, and his hardness pushed into her back. Scarlett felt the thick ridge through his breeches and whimpered at the sheer size of him.
“Ye feel that, lass?” His teeth grazed her throat. “That’s what waits for ye when I take ye proper.”
Her moan came out strangled. “God, I want?—”
His fingers traced lower then pressed inside her, slow at first then deeper. Scarlett jolted, a startled cry breaking from her lips as the rush of sensation overtook her. Her palms slapped flat against the vanity, streaking the wood with dark smudges of charcoal.
“Good lass,” he growled, curling his fingers inside her until her legs shook. “Show me how much ye want it.”
She moved without thinking, her body finding its own rhythm against his hand. The slick slide of his touch filled the hush of the chamber, mingling with the soft sounds that escaped her lips.
“Robert, I?—”
“That’s it,” he rasped, his own breath uneven now, his hardness straining against her backside. “Ye’re dripping for me, Scarlett. Drowning me hand.”
A sharp sound tore from her throat, half-moan, half-breath, her body arching back into him.
He pressed his thumb to her nub, circling with ruthless precision until her whole frame shook.
“Robert—I cannae—” she gasped, the words breaking apart. “I cannae?—”
“Come for me,” he ordered, his lips harsh at her ear. “Now.”
The command undid her. She shattered with a scream, her release tearing through her in waves, thighs trembling, body clenching tight around his fingers.
“Robert!”
He didn’t stop until every last shudder wrung itself out of her. When he finally pulled his hand free, she sagged against the vanity, chest heaving, sweat dampening her hairline.
Her reflection stunned her, cheeks streaked with color, lips swollen from biting them, eyes glazed with pleasure.
Robert stood behind her, chest rising hard, his hardness rigid against her still. For a heartbeat, she thought he’d finally give in and take her, that he’d bend her over the vanity and finish what he’d started.
Scarlett reached back blindly, hand brushing the thick length straining at his breeches. “Let me?—”
But he caught her wrist in a punishing grip. “Nay.” His voice was gravelly, his control fraying but unbroken.
Her breath shook. “Why?”
His gaze in the mirror burned into her. “Rule three. Ye remember it?”
Her lips trembled. “D—daenae fall for ye.”
“Aye.” His hand tightened once on her wrist before he let it drop. “And if ye touch me now, lass, ye’ll forget it. I daenae want lines to blur.”
He stepped back. The cold where his heat had been was immediate, striking her like a physical blow.
Scarlett turned, her nightdress bunched at her waist, her breath shallow. "Robert."
He paused at the door and looked back. It was a slow, punishing gaze, the look of a man memorizing something he was forcing himself to destroy. Then he was gone. The click of the latch sounded like a gavel, leaving her in the sudden, ringing silence.
