quickened pace and hard press of his thigh were too much. The tension trembling inside her twisted into an impossible knot, so tight and heavy she thought she’d go mad from it. She got out half of his name on a breathless pant before heat turned to fire.
Then she came, so hard and fast her toes curled and her body jerked. Her free hand smashed against the bed next to his hip as she struggled to keep her balance.
Wilder’s hoarse groan rose in time with her own gasping cry, and his fingers clamped down, jerking their hands up the length of his cock with frantic urgency. Another shudder rocked her body as his thigh clenched. She fisted her free hand in the covers and whispered his name, and he rewarded her with a shout and the hot spill of his seed across her chest.
His mouth crashed to hers in a kiss almost bruising in its intensity. His teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Satira.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Wilder.”
His chest heaved with a rough laugh. “That was hot as hell.”
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41
Moira Rogers
“Mmm.” She eased to the side until she was kneeling next to him, then straightened slowly. “I suppose I should be relieved you secured a suite with a bathtub for me.”
“Right.” His head hit the pillow. “Jesus.”
Satira traced idle circles on his chest with her finger, feeling oddly shy considering the sorts of things she’d just done. “You could come with me. If you wanted.”
“To the bath?”
Without the blankets, the room was too cold. She stretched out on her back beside him, head pillowed on his shoulder and her side tucked firmly against the warmth of his body. “Unless you like me like this.”
“It has its appeal.” He reached over and brushed his knuckles up her arm. “Come on. I’ll draw you that bath.”
Experience prompted her, a wisp of memory, from a cocky young bloodhound who’d gone wild at his own scent on her body. She caught his gaze and lifted her fingers and rubbed his seed into her breasts.
Wilder caught her wrist, guiding her fingertips to her parted lips. “The next time I come, I want to be in you.”
Her good intentions must be doomed, because she wanted that too.
42
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Chapter Six
Seventy-two hours passed in a blur of uncomfortable tension and unbridled passion.
By day Wilder haunted the inn’s common room, acting as her armed guardian and business manager.
He brought her books to while away the long hours in-between fretting about Nathaniel, and she did him the courtesy of pretending they helped. Nothing could stop her from considering all of the ways Nathaniel could be suffering now. Hurting. Dying.
In her worst moments she wondered if Wilder had any plan at all, but helplessness kept her trapped.
Even at her best, she was still a scientist. Not a fighter. Running off on her own would get her killed more surely than waiting, and Nathaniel would hardly be served by her death.
So she waited. She gathered her nerves every day, until Wilder escorted her downstairs in the evenings to be paraded about like a prized jewel to be won. They dined in a different establishment every night while men made increasingly elaborate offers that Wilder pretended to consider before taking her upstairs.
To bed.
Always his bed, though hers was perhaps more luxurious. But there was something meaningful about the moment she stepped through the dividing door, something that turned him from protective escort to a man hungry to possess her.
And he did. On the first night he stroked every inch of her and teased her until she was begging. She came around his fingers and whimpered helplessly when he slicked his thumb into her ass and made her come again. But he wouldn’t use his cock, not then and not on the second night when he coaxed her astride his face and thrust into her mouth while he drove her to four painfully sharp climaxes.
By the third night she was praying that he’d turn his attention toward procuring a
Then she came, so hard and fast her toes curled and her body jerked. Her free hand smashed against the bed next to his hip as she struggled to keep her balance.
Wilder’s hoarse groan rose in time with her own gasping cry, and his fingers clamped down, jerking their hands up the length of his cock with frantic urgency. Another shudder rocked her body as his thigh clenched. She fisted her free hand in the covers and whispered his name, and he rewarded her with a shout and the hot spill of his seed across her chest.
His mouth crashed to hers in a kiss almost bruising in its intensity. His teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Satira.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Wilder.”
His chest heaved with a rough laugh. “That was hot as hell.”
www.samhainpublishing.com
41
Moira Rogers
“Mmm.” She eased to the side until she was kneeling next to him, then straightened slowly. “I suppose I should be relieved you secured a suite with a bathtub for me.”
“Right.” His head hit the pillow. “Jesus.”
Satira traced idle circles on his chest with her finger, feeling oddly shy considering the sorts of things she’d just done. “You could come with me. If you wanted.”
“To the bath?”
Without the blankets, the room was too cold. She stretched out on her back beside him, head pillowed on his shoulder and her side tucked firmly against the warmth of his body. “Unless you like me like this.”
“It has its appeal.” He reached over and brushed his knuckles up her arm. “Come on. I’ll draw you that bath.”
Experience prompted her, a wisp of memory, from a cocky young bloodhound who’d gone wild at his own scent on her body. She caught his gaze and lifted her fingers and rubbed his seed into her breasts.
Wilder caught her wrist, guiding her fingertips to her parted lips. “The next time I come, I want to be in you.”
Her good intentions must be doomed, because she wanted that too.
42
www.samhainpublishing.com
Chapter Six
Seventy-two hours passed in a blur of uncomfortable tension and unbridled passion.
By day Wilder haunted the inn’s common room, acting as her armed guardian and business manager.
He brought her books to while away the long hours in-between fretting about Nathaniel, and she did him the courtesy of pretending they helped. Nothing could stop her from considering all of the ways Nathaniel could be suffering now. Hurting. Dying.
In her worst moments she wondered if Wilder had any plan at all, but helplessness kept her trapped.
Even at her best, she was still a scientist. Not a fighter. Running off on her own would get her killed more surely than waiting, and Nathaniel would hardly be served by her death.
So she waited. She gathered her nerves every day, until Wilder escorted her downstairs in the evenings to be paraded about like a prized jewel to be won. They dined in a different establishment every night while men made increasingly elaborate offers that Wilder pretended to consider before taking her upstairs.
To bed.
Always his bed, though hers was perhaps more luxurious. But there was something meaningful about the moment she stepped through the dividing door, something that turned him from protective escort to a man hungry to possess her.
And he did. On the first night he stroked every inch of her and teased her until she was begging. She came around his fingers and whimpered helplessly when he slicked his thumb into her ass and made her come again. But he wouldn’t use his cock, not then and not on the second night when he coaxed her astride his face and thrust into her mouth while he drove her to four painfully sharp climaxes.
By the third night she was praying that he’d turn his attention toward procuring a
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