Page 97 of The Rakehell of Roth
With a strangled noise, Winter hooked his hands beneath her shoulders and dragged her up so she was splayed on top of him like a loose-limbed ragdoll. “Not this time,” he growled. “I want to be inside of you where I belong when I come.”
In a swift move, he flipped her back under him. Isobel trembled at the savage look on his face. His eyes were almost black with desire, his body coiled and tense like a predator ready to claim what was his. And she was ready tobeclaimed. As much as he played at letting her have control, Isobel loved this side of him when he took charge. She wanted to be possessed by him. Owned by him. Swived to within an inch of her life.
She grinned at her indelicate thoughts, her body drowning in delicious want.
“What were you thinking just then?” he asked, positioning his body between her hips.
Boldly, devotedly, she met her husband’s eyes. “That I want you to fuck me senseless.”
“Christ, Isobel,” he grated, his cock jerking wildly against her, “you cannot say such things to me!”
“Why?” she teased and tilted her own hips to receive him, feeling him notch into place where she was hot and wet. “When you clearly like it so much?”
“I do like it, but I want to be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle. I want you as you are.”
Winter didn’t question her desire. He entered her in one powerful thrust that wrenched a low moan of approval from Isobel’s chest. God, he filled her to bursting. But like with his hand on her hair before, the pain of his entry and his girth skirted the edges of pleasure, blurring them into something indefinable. Something transcendent.
“Good so far, love?” he ground out huskily, withdrawing slightly and shoving back in.
“Yes.” It was a gasp of need. “I need you to move. Now!”
His laugher rumbled against her. “Patience, little tigress.”
When he did begin to move, his huge body owning hers with every deep pull and slide, Isobel could only hold on, wrapping her ankles around the backs of his firm, hair-roughened thighs and digging her nails into the meat of his shoulders. There would be marks left there, she was sure, but she didn’t care. She wanted to mark every inch of him as he was marking her.
The pleasure began to build as ribbons of heat cascaded from between her legs to the rest of her body, tethering her to that one spot. To him. To where they were joined.
“Harder, Winter,” she commanded.
His eyes widened, but she nodded. She wanted him unleashed. Ungoverned. Whollyhim. His pace increased as he flung one of her legs over his shoulder, pressing so deeply into her body that she could feel him everywhere. The position made his pelvis drag against her sex, sparks of pleasure bursting every time his body ground into hers.
Her eyes screwed shut when it became too much to bear. “Oh God, Winter…don’t stop.”
“I’ll never stop.”
Her orgasm burst from her like an explosion, relentlessly burning everything in its path until there was nothing left but passion and ash. She felt him slow, his body thickening on the verge of his own release, and in that moment, her husband’s eyes met hers.
“Winter?” she whispered, seeing the emotion on his face.
Silvery gray eyes seized hers, the unguarded adoration in them staggering. His hands reached up to cup her jaw as he leaned down to press the sweetest, most tender kiss to her lips.
“I love you, Isobel,” he said. “And I want everything with you. Children, a future, whatever will make you happy.”
And then with a few short thrusts, Winter was there, leaping over the edge into the flames with her, incinerating them in tandem. To Isobel’s stunned surprise, her body released again, as her husband emptied himself and his love inside of her.
He gave her everything he had to give.
Chapter Twenty-Six
If you don’t feel like you are about to expire from organ failure, you’re not doing it right.
– Lady Darcy
Not long after their reunion, Winter ensconced his beautiful marchioness at Rothingham Gable, a short ride from his father’s ducal country estate in Chelmsford. Neither of them had any inclination to return to London for the rest of the season, so they remained in the country.
After several weeks, a gloating Matteo, along with the rest of his London staff, delightedly followed their master’s swift departure from town. Even Ludlow wore a ridiculous smile on his face. If Winter had known getting on the cranky butler’s good side meant bringing Lady Roth home, he might have done it years ago. Certainly, if he’d knownhecould be this happy, he would have done it from the start.
