Today's Reading
He tasted dark and dangerous. She recognized a hint of the flavor. Whiskey. Had he enjoyed a glass before coming to her or had he been in the company of another just prior to being sent to her? She didn't like the spark of jealousy that speculation instigated. Even if he hadn't kissed the girl, he'd been gifting her with his attentions. Selfishly, she wanted him all to herself, realized she wished he wasn't someone who so easily shared his favors with others.
But she shoved aside all those intruding thoughts, which were ruining the experience, to better concentrate on the present. He was hers for only a few minutes, for only as long as this kiss lasted. But already she didn't want it to end anytime soon. How long had they given him? How many minutes could he stay with her before he would have to leave to see to another's request and need?
She didn't know how it came about, but her fingers were suddenly entangled in his thick, silky hair. Strange sounds were coming from her. Sighs. Squeals. Moans. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't her making them. It was the green fairy. But she didn't want to separate her mouth from his in order to utter a word. All she wanted was more of his lips plying their talent over hers.
They were so very skilled at taunting and teasing, applying pressure and backing off. His tongue was master of its domain, parrying with hers, plundering the recesses of her mouth as though he'd stumbled upon unexpected treasure and wanted to thoroughly analyze each find.
His arm came around her, drawing her up and nearer so her breasts were flattened against his firm broad chest. And her fingers, the dastardly things, began exploring the breadth of his shoulders. She wanted to undo all his buttons and take a journey over the skin their release would reveal. How far would he let her go before objecting? How far would she dare?
What were the rules? What was allowed?
She'd always assumed a kiss was a relatively passive act that involved only the mouth, but his encompassed the whole of her, down to her curling toes. Her entire body seemed to spark and tingle. As his hold on her tightened, she felt herself melting into him, like candle wax heated by a solitary flame. He was incredibly warm and comforting. His ministrations lured her nearer until she wondered if they'd ever part. She hoped not. She dearly hoped not.
He comprised her entire world. He dominated her awareness until nothing existed beyond him. He was all that mattered, all that was of substance. And yet...
Everything started to have a dreamlike quality to it. She could no longer tell where she ended and he began. They were absorbing each other, and a haze began to settle in.
Green. Murky. Distant.
The green fairy was wreaking havoc now, wanted him all for herself, the little witch. Leonora was clutching him, striving to hold onto him.
But in the end, he floated away.
* * *
Rook felt the woman go limp in his arms only a heartbeat before her mouth released its hold on his. Easing back, he looked down on her. She appeared thoroughly contented.
She was also bloody well asleep!
Damnation! He'd never had a woman react in that manner when he'd been kissing her. If anything, they always became more animated. Had he bored her? She certainly hadn't responded as if uninterested. She'd clutched, grabbed, and held him as though she was being tossed about by a tempest at sea and he was the raft that would safely deliver her to shore.
And dear God, the sounds she'd made. The whimpers, the sighs, the moans. They'd made every aspect of him tighten with need and want. They'd urged him to push himself into her and fuck her completely and thoroughly, and it had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed not to follow that path.
Then it had all come to an unsatisfying conclusion as though it had meant nothing at all.
His masculine pride wanted to dump her right there and then. But his mother, blast her, had raised him to be a gentleman of the first water and so he lowered the lady gently to the fainting couch as he might set down the finest of delicate porcelain.
Fainting couch? Perhaps she wasn't asleep but had fainted. Maybe his ministrations had overwhelmed her. Had taken her by storm. Perhaps he'd been too vigorous in his attentions, leaving the novice overcome with sensations. Lightly he nudged her shoulder. "Miss? Madam?"
A little mewling escaped from those slightly parted lips that he wanted to take possession of once again. She shifted onto her side, tucked a hand beneath her pink-tinged cheek, mumbled something about a fairy, and then emitted an endearing snuffling snore. Asleep then. Bloody hell. What was he supposed to do with her now?
This excerpt is from the ebook edition.
Monday we begin the book The Fake Mate by Lana Ferguson.
...
