“Don’t,”she said, with an urgency that bordered on madness. “Please. Please.”
And he was helpless to her, had been from the beginning. He was too drugged by her proximity to know if it was right or honorable or if he was merely sating a need, and afterward he’d feel like she owned yet another piece of him that he’d never retrieve, and he a piece of her.
But he was just a man like any other, and not a very good one, had never pretended to be.
He flipped her around so that her hands were pressed against the door, her arse to the aching ridge of his cock. He groaned without restraint.
He leaned down to her ear, and she whimpered. “Don’t beg, darlin’,” he said, and his hands ran over her backside. “Hard to stay gentlemanly when you beg like that.”
“I don’t want a gentleman,” she growled.
“No?” he said, playing with her clit now. Her head tipped back. A keening sound came from her chest, and he exploited it for a moment. “Do you want me to fuck you like this, then?”
“Yes,” she said immediately, trying to turn her mouth around to his.
He could have taken her against that door. Lord, but she looked like heaven. Arching back, her bare arse already rubbing, seeking. Her breasts flattening against the door.
But it wasn’t what either of them needed.
He withdrew his touch. “Get on the bed.”
She moaned in sufferance, but she went. She only ever listened to him when he had her like this—wound tight, thrumming, balanced on the tip of a blade.
He watched her perch herself on the mattress edge with that straight Artisan posture, that defiant Scurry chin, the blush betraying her courage, creeping up her breast to her throat.
He strolled languidly toward her, and it tormented them both.
He undressed as she had, without hurry, undoing his cuffs first, then one shirt button at a time. The suspenders next. Impatient, she reachedforward and took hold of his belt, pulling it free from the buckle, and he chuckled.
Eager. She was always too fucking eager. Always testing the bounds of his control.
But those bounds were obliterated when she freed his cock from his trousers and pulled it past her lips. He gripped the back of her head on instinct and sucked air through his teeth. “Fuck,” he snarled. The sound seemed to break through the cage of his chest.
She pulled him further, her mouth too hot, too wet, her cheeks hollowing, and he felt it in every nerve ending of his body. The muscles of his stomach contracted. Her wild curls freed themselves from their pins as his fingers delved into her hair. She had the tenacity to look up at him, her tongue running over the underside of his length. It was almost his undoing. He groaned. “When you look up at me like that, darlin’,” he said in warning, “it’s like darin’ me toruinyou. You understand?”
She pulled him deep then, so that he could feel the moan in the back of her throat.
And he could take it no longer. He pulled himself free of her mouth and fell to his knees, spread her thighs apart before she could stop him.
Her legs were already shaking, her lips glistening. Before he pushed his mouth to the inside of her thigh, she was already falling back onto the bed. “Please,” she was murmuring again. Always fucking begging. Lord, but she’d be the death of him.
Then he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked, tasted her again, finally. Every moment until now, he’d been deprived. He understood that now, how he’d only ever been fighting a losing battle.
Nina exhaled his name, and it was the sweetest song he’d ever heard. Before long she was trembling, her legs clenching. He felt her thighs contract beneath his hands as he held them apart.
“Patrick! I—”
She broke beneath him, pulsing against his tongue. Her fingers in her own hair. He waited for the waves to subside before he stood.
Patrick thought it wouldn’t matter if he saw her like this another hundred times, another thousand. The wonder of it would never dim. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfect that it sent pain through his chest and into his stomach. His cock ached unbearably.
He feasted on the small eruptions of desire in her eyes, need returning with every passing second. Desire doubling. He’d never be strong enough to resist her again.
“You need to work some of that anger out, darlin?” he asked, and she nodded. “Then you work it out with me.”
She made to back away then, slide herself farther up the bed. Lay herself out for him like a goddess. “Ah, no you don’t, Scurry girl,” he said, and he scooped her up easily, felt her soft body slide against his, and he carried her to the windowsill, the lip just the right height, its position opposite the mirror, where she could watch him fuck her over his shoulder.
He planned on doing so until she was mindless, until she was slivers of herself. He planned on showing her just how ungentlemanly a miner could be.
