Page 42 of Her Dark Seduction
Unable to respond I parted my thighs wider, but he began to withdraw.
“Please…”
“Tell me, Lisetta.”
“Yes!” I cried, “I’m yours.”
Nipping my earlobe, he dipped his hand between my folds again while my sensitive flesh quivered at his touch before he slammed into me and my world exploded. My body’s reaction caught me unawares, sending wave after wave of exquisite, pleasurable torture. My legs writhed and danced as I cried out with the force of it. The deep pulsing within my core grew more powerful, crossing between agony and pleasure. Sawford’s cries matched my own, as if he felt the same agonies as I, until he let out a shout, his hands tightening their hold on me while he drove into me one last time with a deep sigh.
We lay there, utterly exhausted, my heart thudding in my chest. Sawford’s breath, fiery and erratic, brushed against my neck. His own heartbeat pulsed against my back, and he molded his body against mine, wrapping his arms around me. Gradually our breathing eased until our chests rose and fell together in unison, joined together as if we were a single creature. He moved his arm until his hand rested lightly on my swollen belly where the life within slept on, undisturbed by what had happened on the bed. Before sleep overtook me he murmured into my ear.
“Mine.”
I woke the next morning with a clear head, to the sound of knocking. I had slept well, experiencing no nightmares.
Someone was outside the door. I tried to move but could not. Sawford lay beside me, cradling my body with his own, his embrace protecting rather than possessive. He had remained by my side throughout the night.
Stirring in his sleep, he caressed my belly, a loving, gentle gesture. Soft feathered kisses brushed against my neck, and he murmured my name, his voice thick with emotion.
The knocking grew louder and his body stiffened.
“Lady!”
At the sound of Celia’s voice he leapt from the cot and gathered his clothes. There was no time to question why he’d stayed; the danger of discovery was too great.
“A moment, Celia,” I called out before gesturing to him.
“Get under the cot,” I whispered, pulling the sheet over my body to hide my nakedness.
He only just made it in time. His foot disappeared under the bed as she walked in.
“I have come to dress you,” she said, not bothering to hide her dislike.
“I find myself indisposed this morning, Celia. Pray tell my husband this.”
She gave me a sly smile, “I will find Sawford and tell him.”
“No!” Her eyes widened at my reaction before her mouth curled into a smile.
“Aye, I will, lady. He would welcome me into his room—and his bed.”
“Don’t be a fool, Celia,” I snapped, and she stiffened at my tone of authority.
“Go to Mortlock directly. Say I will be well enough tomorrow.”
She looked at me mutinously, and I sat up straight, glaring at her. Some of my old resolve returned, and I became, once again, the ice cold mistress rather than a weak rival.
“Do as you are bid,” I said with a cruel edge to my voice. “As the mother of Mortlock’s heir I have more value than a lazy disobedient servant. A word or two in the wrong ear and you could find yourself on a pike. After all, one whore is easily replaced by another.”
She paled at my words but fear for her own skin overcame her urge to retaliate, and she fled.
I leaned over the bed.
“Begone before you share their fate also. Quickly!”
He rolled out from underneath and slipped his clothes on before handing over my torn nightshift. He cupped my face with his hand.
“Is your heart softening, lady?”
