Read Online Trust Me by Natasha Blackthorne - Free Book Online

fingers.
    She realized that she
was gripping the glass. She looked up at him and then, caught in her fixation,
she felt her face flame. She let go the glass. He set it on the night table
then he came back to her.
    He cupped her face.
His eyes were blazingly blue as they gazed into hers, intensifying on her as he
moved closer. Then closer. He put his lips to hers. Firm pressure. Warm. He
opened his mouth and traced her mouth with his tongue.
    Desire tingled within
her, mingling with the fear borne of the lightning and the storm. The two
sensations merged. She opened her mouth and he thrust inside, his tongue
sweeping over hers, hot, wet and tasting of claret.
    Hunger slammed into
her womb. Her cunt clenched.
    He grasped her hips
and pulled her against himself. His erection was growing, throbbing. The
evidence of his need made her wet.
    She moved her tongue
in his mouth teasingly.
    He groaned then he
tore his mouth from hers.
    She found herself
swept up into his arms then deposited on the bed.
    He pushed her chemise
up so quickly, the lawn fabric burned a little. He dropped down on top of her.
“Anne.” He groaned her name against her ear. He cupped her breast and squeezed
with steady pressure. “Oh God, Anne.”
    Heat against her
entrance. Sudden pressure made her gasp. He pushed inside her, thrusting all
the way inside so hastily that she gasped anew.
    He grasped her hips
and rocked against her, the crown of his cock pressing against the mouth of her
womb. He bounced her and sent shocks of delighted anticipation quaking through
her body.
    Everything was
happening so fast. So feverishly. She felt a little dizzy. It added a piquant
note to the moment.
    A clap of thunder
shook through the bed, startling her. Her heart hammered and shocks of fear
shuddered along her spine, reverberating into her belly. The storm! She tensed
and cried out, clawing at the feather bed.
    “Shh.” His hot breath
blew against her ear.
    She lay beneath him
with her heart still pounding. How could he possibly want her when she was such
a frightened little ninny?
    He lifted up,
partway, and pried her hands from the bed. Placed them above her head. “It’s
all right, my love, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything harm you.” He put his
lips to her temple and pressed her body with his own.
    She hid her face in
the crook of his shoulder.
    He transferred her
wrists to one hand then moved to cup her chin and urged her to look at him. “I
own you. Completely. You are my most precious possession. I will not let
anything happen to you, ever. I would die first.”
    A sense of his utter
strength surrounded her. Warmth wound through her.
    He relaxed his grip
on her chin and slid his hand to cup the side of her cheek “We have to make a
child. It is our duty.”
    “Yes.”
    “Sexual congress was
just for pleasure before. I didn’t ever think about it much beyond that.”
    It was strange, to
lay here with his cock embedded within her, still so hard, throbbing against
her inner walls, and yet to converse so calmly.
    “Do you think about
it, Anne? You and I making a child?” He stared down at her, his visage stripped
of all its mocking humour, stripped of all its world-weariness. Stripped down
to his soul. It was as if a different man were suddenly with her.
    She had seen this Jon
a few times before. He frightened her a little, for he made her hope for things
she didn’t dare expect in this marriage. But his eyes were also the most
beautiful thing she had ever seen.
    And hope was so
seductive.
    “Yes,” she said
breathily. “I have thought about us. About our child.”
    His gaze seemed to
caress her. “Even when I thought about laying with a woman for purposes of
procreation, I had thought before only of making an heir. But now my heir will
be our child.”
    “Oh…” The word forced
itself up her throat. A sound full of longing, hope—he was saying everything
she had longed to hear. She could believe that he would be more than just a
nobleman