Page 31 of Rogue Lyon

“I am not complaining one bit,” he said. “Don’t ever change from who you are, my clever, beautiful girl.”

Curiosity gnawed at her and she pulled at his pants, revealing his hard cock.

Quickly, she held in a gasp of surprise. He was so big, and thick, and his flesh was dark and rose from a patch of wiry, black hair.

“Blazes,” he gasped as he clutched his cock. “You really just did that.”

“I want to touch it.” She nudged his hand with hers and took hold of his heated length.

She was so close to it, and as she rubbed from the base to the top, she studied his deep-pink slit and a delicate vein that ran over his flared head.

“Meredith.” His fingers tightened on her nape. “Watch yourself there.”

But she heeded no warning, and after licking her lips, she leaned forward and tasted the end.

“Ah, damn and blazes, I…” He locked his knees and screwed his eyes tight shut.

She did it again, and again, and then ran her tongue all around the end.

He groaned long and low and then nudged her hand away and took himself in a tight fist. And then he worked, fast, determined, and with long strokes. Tipping his face to the ceiling, he moaned low and guttural and then whipped his kerchief from his pocket.

“Jules?” The expression on his face appeared to be one of mortal pain. She was concerned for him.

“I…uh…” He wrapped the kerchief around the tip of his cock, and then without letting up the speed of his actions, he let out a long grunt of satisfaction and found his own release.

She watched him in fascination. Every twitch of his face, nostril flare, the way the lines at the sides of his eyes deepened as he screwed them up. His teeth were gritted and the tendons on his neck taut.

“Ah, yeah…” He blew out a breath and then turned away.

Excitement and bewilderment flooded her as she stared at his broad back. His pleasure had been every bit as intense as hers, a little quicker, perhaps, but just the same.

Her cunny quivered at the thought of them joining as man and woman, finding that pleasure with his big thing inside her.

Would it even fit?

She sat up straighter and her belly clenched.

He was breathing fast and had clutched the end of the bed.

A sudden dropping sensation overwhelmed her. Like lead falling into her chest and squeezing her heart.

What the hell had she just done?

Truly scandalous.

Hideously hedonistic.

Her limbs were twitching and she stood, her gown falling back around her ankles. Heat swarmed up her neck and over her cheeks. The need to escape, run, leave their sinful acts behind was overwhelming, so she did just that and dashed to the door.

She’d made it past the Venus and Apollo painting and halfway down the staircase before she heard him call her name.

But she took no heed and continued at pace, letting herself out of the house and rushing down the steps to the street. She took a left, toward the darkening horizon, and quickened her pace further.

Shame swamped her. Her mother’s face hovered in her mind’s eye. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice berated her, full of shock and horror.

How could she have let such a rake, a gossip-touting scoundrel seduce her that way?

Jules Habsburg was some kind of wizard. He’d cast a spell on her and made her lose her mind and see only him.