one stone.
“You think you can control yourself around me?” he said silkily.
“Of course. And there’s naught to control. Truly.”
The slight wobble in that last word betrayed her.
“So if I were to sit on that wingchair right now,”—his gaze directed to the furnishing in question—“with you on my lap and my mouth on yours, you’d be indifferent?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He stalked toward her, and she retreated immediately. When the back of her knees hit the wingchair, she lost her balance, her bottom smacking softly against the leather seat. He planted his hands on the back of the chair, caging yet not touching her.
Leaning down, he mocked, “Then don’t be a liar. You said you had full control of yourself around me.”
“I do. In that hypothetical scenario, I would be trying to get away from you,” she shot back.
“What if I held you tight, kissed you deeper, licked your sweet lips until you let me in?”
Her cheeks turned rosy. “I—I’d bite your tongue!”
“Ah, but then I’d have to punish you.” He let his words sink in, saw her pupils dilating—not with fear, but ... arousal. Devil and damn. His trousers grew instantly tighter.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She didn’t sound so full of conviction now.
“To the contrary, pet, I dare most anything,” he purred. “Now you saw quite the variety of punishments at Andromeda’s; I wonder which you would most prefer? For instance, would you enjoy being bound and helpless as I took my pleasure? As I touched and kissed you however, wherever, I wanted to?”
A choked breath left her. Beneath her cloak, her bosom surged.
“Perhaps you’d like to pleasure me,” he said thoughtfully. “On your knees, taking everything I give you.” His cockstand, already turgid, pulsed at the idea—and even more so when her teeth sank into her lower lip. Sweat dampened his collar; he forced himself to finish what he’d begun. “But I think you’d most like being turned over on my knee. Raising your pretty bottom up for me.”
His senses flooded with the beauty of that image: her supple, white skin beneath his palm, her beauty entirely in his hands. He knew she was not a miss of half-measures; when Emma Kent submitted, she would give ... everything. Heat sizzled through his veins, and he burned to know the generosity of her ardor, to show her ecstasy that she’d never known before.
In a hoarse voice, he continued, “You could let go of fear and worry, Emma. Put yourself into my keeping.” He cupped her downy cheek, her quiver travelling straight to his prick. “You could trust me to give you everything you need.”
She made a strangled sound, and he saw his own dark desire mirrored in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal rather than disgust. She swayed toward him, her breath panting through her lips, her passion like a seed poised to sprout through virginal inhibitions ...
Virgin—a trap.
His mind sounded the alarm over his roaring lust. Laura seemed sweet and passionate, and she played you for a fool. His gut clenched as her betrayals flooded him, the humiliating memories. The loss ...
Never again.
Control is everything.
Somehow, he mastered himself. Pushing away from the wingchair, he straightened and lifted a brow. “Well, pet? Are you unaffected now? In complete control?”
She blinked, paling as the words struck home. “You’re a bastard,” she whispered.
“I’m honest,” he corrected coolly. “This is what will happen if you play games with me. Now this is your last warning: stop meddling or face the consequences.”
She shot to her feet. “ Fine. If you wind up dead, see if I give a farthing!”
Phobos and Deimos leapt up, ready to give chase to her departing figure.
“Stay,” Alaric commanded.
The deerhounds came over to him, whining at the loss of a visitor.
“Trust me, lads,” he said darkly. “It has to be this way.”
***
Despite his victory over the indomitable chit, Alaric felt
“You think you can control yourself around me?” he said silkily.
“Of course. And there’s naught to control. Truly.”
The slight wobble in that last word betrayed her.
“So if I were to sit on that wingchair right now,”—his gaze directed to the furnishing in question—“with you on my lap and my mouth on yours, you’d be indifferent?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He stalked toward her, and she retreated immediately. When the back of her knees hit the wingchair, she lost her balance, her bottom smacking softly against the leather seat. He planted his hands on the back of the chair, caging yet not touching her.
Leaning down, he mocked, “Then don’t be a liar. You said you had full control of yourself around me.”
“I do. In that hypothetical scenario, I would be trying to get away from you,” she shot back.
“What if I held you tight, kissed you deeper, licked your sweet lips until you let me in?”
Her cheeks turned rosy. “I—I’d bite your tongue!”
“Ah, but then I’d have to punish you.” He let his words sink in, saw her pupils dilating—not with fear, but ... arousal. Devil and damn. His trousers grew instantly tighter.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She didn’t sound so full of conviction now.
“To the contrary, pet, I dare most anything,” he purred. “Now you saw quite the variety of punishments at Andromeda’s; I wonder which you would most prefer? For instance, would you enjoy being bound and helpless as I took my pleasure? As I touched and kissed you however, wherever, I wanted to?”
A choked breath left her. Beneath her cloak, her bosom surged.
“Perhaps you’d like to pleasure me,” he said thoughtfully. “On your knees, taking everything I give you.” His cockstand, already turgid, pulsed at the idea—and even more so when her teeth sank into her lower lip. Sweat dampened his collar; he forced himself to finish what he’d begun. “But I think you’d most like being turned over on my knee. Raising your pretty bottom up for me.”
His senses flooded with the beauty of that image: her supple, white skin beneath his palm, her beauty entirely in his hands. He knew she was not a miss of half-measures; when Emma Kent submitted, she would give ... everything. Heat sizzled through his veins, and he burned to know the generosity of her ardor, to show her ecstasy that she’d never known before.
In a hoarse voice, he continued, “You could let go of fear and worry, Emma. Put yourself into my keeping.” He cupped her downy cheek, her quiver travelling straight to his prick. “You could trust me to give you everything you need.”
She made a strangled sound, and he saw his own dark desire mirrored in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal rather than disgust. She swayed toward him, her breath panting through her lips, her passion like a seed poised to sprout through virginal inhibitions ...
Virgin—a trap.
His mind sounded the alarm over his roaring lust. Laura seemed sweet and passionate, and she played you for a fool. His gut clenched as her betrayals flooded him, the humiliating memories. The loss ...
Never again.
Control is everything.
Somehow, he mastered himself. Pushing away from the wingchair, he straightened and lifted a brow. “Well, pet? Are you unaffected now? In complete control?”
She blinked, paling as the words struck home. “You’re a bastard,” she whispered.
“I’m honest,” he corrected coolly. “This is what will happen if you play games with me. Now this is your last warning: stop meddling or face the consequences.”
She shot to her feet. “ Fine. If you wind up dead, see if I give a farthing!”
Phobos and Deimos leapt up, ready to give chase to her departing figure.
“Stay,” Alaric commanded.
The deerhounds came over to him, whining at the loss of a visitor.
“Trust me, lads,” he said darkly. “It has to be this way.”
***
Despite his victory over the indomitable chit, Alaric felt
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