Page 130 of Beyond the Cottage

Whatbig picture, though? He was living moment by moment. Once the meeting was over, who the hell knew where he’d end up? Shouldn’t he take what she was willing to give, whenevershe was willing to give it, and damn everything else? Like Lady Lovecock would?

That he even hesitated was a fucking joke.

Ansel pushed her legs aside and stood. She looked up at him nervously, as though there was any chance in hell he’d refuse her.

He held his hand out. When she took it, he tugged her to her feet. His arm snaked around her waist, jerking her against him.

“Alright, Gret. Let’s be friends who fuck.”

Chapter 45

Gretta squeezed his waist, head rolling as his lips climbed her throat. “How do you want to do it? Will I be fucking the hero or getting fucked by the villain?”

“Lady’s choice.”

“Hmm. Surprise me.”

He took a step back, eyes roaming her body. They settled on her skirt. It was long and full, pretty modest actually, but he seemed to get a kick out of seeing her in it. As though sorting out wrinkles, Gretta smoothed her hands over her hips, swishing the crisp taffeta.

Expression downright evil, he moved closer—looming. Quite villainously.

She backed away, and he followed, slowly stalking her. He corralled her toward the bedroom like she was skittish prey he’d finally cornered.

Gretta’s heart pounded. She wasn’t used to being the hunted. It ramped up her excitement, and she couldn’t wait to see what he did when he caught her.

Not yet, though.

Sneering, she trotted into the bedroom and flung the door shut. He kicked it in hard enough to break the handle. The door crashed against the wall, drifting closed as he came in after her, and the back of her legs touched the bed.

Wielding his height, he crowded her against it. “Lift your skirt.”

She couldn’t see his face in the dark, but his tone was a pistol cocking.

“Now, Gretta. Do it, or I rip it off.”

The taffeta crunched as she lifted it. When she went too slow for his pleasure, he pushed her onto the bed and shoved handfuls of fabric up her hips.

She propped on her elbows, spreading her thighs. Once her skirt was out the way, he straighted to evaluate her. A square of moonlight from the window perfectly lit her on the bed. He stepped between her legs, and the light hit the straining outline of his cock.

Gretta lay there panting, waiting.

And waiting.

As she reached the brink of demanding he fuck her already, he roughly spread her legs wider. Instead of ripping open his pants and falling on her, he dropped to his knees, one at a time. He tucked a single finger into the waist of her pantalettes. It dragged back and forth along her lower belly.

In an uncharacteristic fit of optimism, Gretta had worn her nicest pair. They were lace-trimmed scraps of black silk, scandalously short, barely worth wearing at all.

The pad of his finger drifted over her mound to the leg hole. He hooked it, giving the silk a tug. “I wondered what these looked like. Did you wear them for me?”

“Yes.”

He untied the little drawstring. “Good of you. They belong to me now.” He pulled them down her legs and shoved them in his pocket.

Before Gretta could stutter a half-hearted protest, he pushed her legs open again. He brought his face close to her naked pussy, into the light.

His expression was hungry—starving.He stared into her depths like they held the secrets of the universe. He drew closer. Gretta felt a light kiss on her cleft.

Wait… Was he goingdownon her?

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