All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(88)

            He pulled back and she whimpered at the loss of him, biting her lip, the sight of her the most seductive thing he had ever seen. Her hands grabbed onto his hips. “I need—”

            “I know.” He nodded, dragging his hands up her thighs and hauling her into position beneath him. Leaning down, he lightly bit her throat, overcome with the need to mark her, possess her.

            She cried out, arching against him, and he followed the nip with a stroke of his tongue. Her fingers speared through his hair. “Now! I need you in me now.”

            His hand reached between their bodies again, finding her, gliding against her, teasing her for a moment before pushing a finger deep inside her once more, reveling in her soft, clinging heat. His breath grew hoarse. “You’re so wet . . . ready.”

            She nodded drunkenly. “Please.”

            Aching hard, he nodded. His body clenched with need. He freed himself and then he was there. Pushing inside her. His hands held tight to her hips, anchoring her as he drove in to the hilt. His body shuddered at the sensation. “God, you’re tight.”

            She whimpered.

            “Am I hurting—”

            Her eyes blazed up at him. She shook her head furiously, and her inner muscles flexed, milking his cock. “No . . . please, just move.”

            Thank God. He dropped his head into her neck with a groan, withdrew and pushed back in again, slamming deep and touching heaven.

            Sensation rippled down his spine. He buried himself deep. Again and again. Deeper than he ever thought possible. She came, shuddering, with a shrill cry.

            He continued to drive into her, increasing his pace, amazed that he had stayed away this long. Her nails dug into his hips as he worked over her, the sound of their bodies smacking together in sweet song.

            Unintelligible sounds choked from her lips. She was close again.

            He reached between their bodies and found her sweet bud, rolling it once before pinching it firmly. That’s all it took. She came apart in his arms, shuddering and gasping. His arms slipped around her, hugging her close as he followed, his climax rising up in him and tightening his skin. He slammed into her one more time before pulling out and spilling himself into his hand, a jagged cry ripping from his throat.

            “Wow,” she panted, propping herself up on her elbows.

            Max stood and moved to the washstand, feeling shaken and glad for something to do. It had never been like that. Even the last time with her. As sweet as that had been, this was even better. Hell, this girl was wrecking him.

            Finished cleaning up, he returned to her and sank back down on the chaise lounge. She studied him warily, and he knew she expected him to take his leave. As though he wanted her only for one thing and now that he’d gotten what he was after he would depart. His stomach knotted. He had done that. He had given her that impression of him.

            Settling beside her, he plucked up her sketch pad and said mildly, “What have you been working on?”

            Aurelia stared at him in astonishment. “You want to see my sketches?”

            He nodded. “They’re important to you . . . yes, I want to see them. And you know I’ve always thought you were brilliant.”

            She stared at him like she didn’t know him at all. “It’s been a long time since you—” She cut herself off and shook her head, and he guessed she was forbidding herself from talking about the past.

            Blinking, a slow smile curved her lips. “Thank you.” Her hand smoothed over the outside of the pad before opening it. “This is my newest sketch . . .”

            The days passed in a pleasant blur. Max spent every night in her bed. He loved her with his mouth and hands and body so thoroughly she almost convinced herself that it did not matter that he did not love her with his heart.