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Hell, if arousal didn’t explode inside of him like gasoline poured onto a banked fire. He shifted in his seat, his cock nearly punching through his trousers. “Bronwyn.”
More color bled into her cheeks. “I am not ill. I simply wanted to leave with you.” She eased out a breath. “If I am to be forced to marry some brainless young fop, then I will take the choices open to me while I can, and this is one of them. I want you. Now.”
“We cannot.” By God, why was he protesting?
“We can,” she insisted. “Don’t you want me?”
Devil take it, what kind of question was that? He craved her with every bone in his body, with every spark of desire in his depraved soul. He wanted to ruin her, over and over again, until no part of her body would ever forget him and she was wrecked for any other. Until he was etched all over her just as she was inscribed all over him. No other woman would ever compare to the tempest that was Bronwyn Chase. His perfect storm.
“You know I do,” he ground out.
“Then I’m yours. Give me this tonight. That’s all I ask, please.”
Shewas begginghim.
Valentine stilled, indecision and obligation riding him hard—the knight and the villain warring for dominance—and then he flew into action, tapping the roof of the conveyance twice so that the coach rolled to a smart stop. “Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked her in a low growl, the lust in his blood garbling his words.
“Yes.”
He gave curt instructions to the driver and then they were off again, rolling past her residence…and the point of no return. The minutes passed and the tension grew until it was a solid thing vibrating between them with a life of its own. Valentine was so hard that he could feel each heartbeat echoing along his painfully aroused length. Her breaths formed in pants, hands clasped tightly and demurely in her lap, though they trembled. Those blue eyes bored into his, so much yearning in them that he wanted to bask in it.
She hid nothing—not her desire, not the need turning those irises to blue flame.
Bronwyn did not move from her position, each of them remaining in place as if they knew once either of them moved, there would be no stopping the wanton candescence that would occur. His skin felt hot and itchy, the slightest rasp of his clothing adding fuel to the fire.
Could a man have a spontaneous orgasm from a single protracted look? He felt the silken press of that blistering blue stare everywhere. In his lips, in his chest, in his cock. He pressed down on his groin with the heel of his hand, the spike of pleasure so intense that he nearly groaned with the relentless agony of it.
“How far is your residence?” she whispered in a rasp that prickled over his dangerously raw senses.
“Not far. A few minutes.”
She bit her lip and then licked it. “Touch yourself.”
“What?” he asked, blinking.
“Stroke your cock,” she commanded, and holy hell, he wanted to die at the commanding growl in her voice. His eyebrows rose, but he’d humor her, just this once.
Valentine splayed his legs wide and removed his hand from his lap, revealing the obscene bulge of his erection behind the placket of his trousers. He was so swollen that the length of him pushed down the side of his thigh, outlined under the fabric in vulgar detail. Her gaze went wide, a soft gasp escaping parted lips as she sat forward on the bench. She licked her lips again, those eyes of hers so bright with lust that they shone in the gloom of the carriage.
The angle wasn’t ideal, but holding that feral gaze of hers, he ran his fist down his rock-hard length and hissed at the pleasure that filled his veins. Valentine stroked back up, wishing he could free his staff from the fabric and grasp it properly, but he was much too close and erupting like a geyser in her face would not leave the best impression.
“Take it out,” she said.
His brows crashed together, fingers tightening to stop the impending explosion. “I’ll spend, Bronwyn.”
“I know. I want to see you come.”
His hands fumbled at the fastenings of his fly, and then he was free, the air of the carriage kissing his hot, overheated flesh. Wetness covered the broad tip, the rest of him purple and pulsing in his palm.
“Good heavens,” she murmured on a shivery exhale, eyes fixed to his crotch. “It’s…beautiful. And b-big.”
Valentine let out a gasp as he stroked over his hard flesh again. The first was hardly the word he’d used to describe a man’s cock, but he was glad she thought so, considering all of this was for her. The savage, hungry look in her eyes, coupled with the tight glove of his fist, made his body tighten.
“I’m close,” he grunted.
“Show me.”
And the sound of her husky voice was all it took before lightning crashed into the base of his spine and he was spilling in long ropes of seed onto his trousers. He worked himself through the release, milking every spurt and every pulse until the waves of pleasure ebbed, and all the while those blue eyes held fast in complete fascination.
