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She squirmed under the heat of his stare and rubbed her hot thighs together. “Please, I need you, Rowan. All of you.”
Carefully, he crawled on top of her. She gazed up at him, his face filled with an agonized need. She drew him into a heated kiss. His lips parted beneath the pressure of her own. Their heads tilted to opposite sides, and he feasted on her mouth with the fervor of a starved man. Slow and deep. She gasped as his masterful hands ran over the rise of her breasts and kneaded the flesh. Her nipples sprang to life while his thumb rubbed against the peaks, teasing the buds into firm points. He tenderly massaged her flesh, and she arched into his hands, wriggling underneath him. Resting on his elbow, he cradled her head in both hands and covered her face in tender kisses. Each eyelid. Her brows. Her cheeks.
Then he moaned softly and took her mouth in a hard possession. Slowly, sensually, he drove his body against hers.
Her heart raced as he kissed her breasts through her dress. One then the other. The wet material clung to her skin. His breath felt hot through the fabric, his hair like fine silk.
She felt his muscular arms, the peaks of his biceps, and wondered at his sinewy power. A thrill of fear mixed with admiration ran through her. She would never really tame this black wolf.
And she much preferred it that way.
“Blanchette… you drive me out of my mind. You have from the first,” he whispered. Her spine tingled from the pressure of his voice. She loved the guttural, sultry rumble of his timbre… a voice so strong, so commanding, it could send her to pleasure without any assistance from his hands or mouth.
Favoring his uninjured arm and propping up on an elbow, he claimed her lips again in an all-consuming kiss. Desperately, she arched upward—her body struggling to be one with his—their mouths molded together. Rowan dipped into her body and wrapped his other hand around her back. He urged her torso upward to meet his; she moaned at the rock-hard feel of him pressing against her most intimate places. Her fingers went to the ties on his white shirt. They tripped over each other in the urgency to feel his skin on hers.
She splayed the soft material aside. His muscles rippled under her tentative touches, and a husky moan escaped him.
“Blanchette…” Her name leaving his lips was like music.
He swept her curls aside and exposed her neck. His mouth tracked over her skin in a ghostlike touch that sent shivers through her. He undid the ties on her dress, and Blanchette shrugged the fabric over and down her shoulders.
Weathered hands skimmed over the valley of her curves as Rowan traced each bend over her body. He pressed a wet line of kisses down her neck... her torso... and drew invisible shapes with the point of his tongue…
Hot wetness circled her nipple. Then he sucked it between his lips and pulled. Softly. Deftly. She moaned and fisted handfuls of his black hair. His hands rode between her thighs and grazed her hot heat.
“God, darling, you’re so wet…”
Thumb and forefinger rolled over her nipple and then gently pinched. She moaned as the sensitive bud tightened into a knot of pleasure. His lips detached from her other nipple and sought the center of her throat. Her pulse quickened, hurdling to life as his lips traced the architecture of her collarbone.
Every nerve caught fire. She twisted her fingertips in the thick waves of his hair and pulled him from her neck. Their lips crashed together and worked in harmony as if attempting to consume the other’s spirit.
His hot, wet kisses snaked down her throat, between her breasts, over her tight stomach… and lower still…
She squirmed beneath the weight of his body, her fingertips tousled in his raven-black hair.
Then Rowan parted her intimate curls and circled the sweet bud in repetitive strokes, stabbing in and out of her moist heat. He angled his lips and drew the tip into the hot cavern of his mouth. Long, teasing sweeps fell across the hardened bud. He applied delicate pressure... a little more... more... just enough...
A long, thick finger slipped inside her body. It formed a hooked shape as his lips sucked at the tender bud. Beard stubble tickled her sensitive flesh… then his mouth encased her mound completely, and she felt the firm, slow strokes of his tongue lapping, swirling, around and inside the tight hole. The point of his tongue traced that bundle of nerves, circling it and sweeping up and down…
Violent moans ripped out of Blanchette’s body. He steadied her hips as he suckled and swirled his tongue and finger in unison, drinking her in deep. She cried out in a burst of pleasure, swept with euphoria, every inch of her tingling and on fire. Intense spasms quaked through her body. Every bit of her shook with the force of her release. She rode those waves and cried out. Rowan chuckled darkly against her wet thighs, then tenderly kissed each one.
“Oh God…” she moaned to herself as her inner walls rhythmically clenched and continued to spread a warm, shooting pleasure through her body. That rippling, bone-deep pleasure seemed to go on and on, crashing in waves that she rode with heavy breaths. Just when she thought they’d end, another trill burst through her. “Oh, my…”
“It’s my pleasure to serve you, my queen,” Rowan sensually whispered against her dripping-wet thighs. Finally, her breathing returned to normal, and those powerful convulsions slowed. She tingled everywhere, all at once, feeling hypersensitive between her legs.
Rowan slid up her body and claimed her lips in a powerful kiss. She tasted herself on his mouth.
“Sweet Blanchette…”
He grasped onto her pale hand and guided it down the front of his trousers. She massaged him through the material, wrenching a tangle of moans from his throat. He felt harder than steel and impossibly large. Slender fingertips molded around the hidden length... massaging, moving up and down... down and up…
His hot breaths fanned against her flushed neck and breasts as she worked him. He panted brokenly, then tucked his face into the crook of her neck. His unique scent filled her—sandalwood and lemon and Norland’s woods. His hips bucked against her hand, and she felt him growing harder and longer through his breeches. Damp hair fell in front of his hazel eyes, and as he leaned forward, it clung to his cheeks.
Her fingers went to the laces on his breeches, unlacing them with clumsy hands that tripped over each other. Rowan chuckled darkly in her ear. The rich, arousing sound traveled straight to her wet groin.
She reached inside his breeches and gripped him. The thick shaft filled her small hand and felt like hot steel against her palm. She wrapped her fingers around his length and slowly moved them up and down, savoring the sound of his quick breaths in her ear, the feel of them wafting against her, the smell of him surrounding her. His head fell forward as she enveloped him with her fingers, sliding firmly up and down his rock-hard shaft, stopping only to cup the soft flesh below…
“Blanchette, darling…” His breathing grew shorter as she increased her speed and pressure. He groaned into her neck. Her fingers curled under the waist of his breeches and pulled them down legs that seemed to go on forever. He kicked them off, letting them join the ever-growing pile of clothing on the floor.
