The Rogue's Proposal (14 page)

“This is your clitoris, Em. The center of your pleasure.”

“Oh,” she said. Then she squirmed, willing him to do it again.

He did. He touched her there, circled her there, brushed over her clitoris until the
sensations were so strong and so powerful, she was overwhelmed by them. Her vision
began to go black around the edges. No one…no one could withstand this kind of assault.
It hurt and felt so good and so frustrating. She was still on that edge, and it seemed
like she’d been standing there forever, the urge to jump only growing inside of her
with his every touch, every swipe and stroke.

And then he moved his fingers lower, circling her entrance before, ever so slowly,
pushing a finger inside.

Emma let out another strangled moan. She felt him everywhere. Inside her, around her.
The thrust of his fingers pleasured her clitoris, too—and as he moved his finger in
and out, sliding decadently over her inner walls, it stopped its tortured scream and
began to hum. That hum resonated through her whole body, once again flaming that ball
of desire deep within her core.

He withdrew one finger, and when he pushed in again, there were two fingers. She could
feel them moving, scissoring inside her. Her senses were so heightened, she could
feel everything.

“Now,” she heard him say, as if from very far away. She registered the tone of male
satisfaction in his voice. “Now you’re ready.”

Ready for what?
she wondered.

But as he continued to thrust his fingers inside her, his mouth went above them, covering
her clitoris, his tongue swiping over that tiny area.

The effect was electric. Emma jolted and cried out. Her hands scrabbled for something
to hold on to, and then she found his head. Her fingers sank into his silky blond
hair, holding him to her.

She felt disembodied. Her body was making movements she could not control, thrusting
against his mouth, against his fingers. God—he was so deep inside her. She felt so
full.

He licked her. Kissed her. Suckled her on that most intensely sensitive place.

She heard herself begging, panting. She had no control. Her fingers tightened in his
hair, but she couldn’t control those either. The fireball inside her was growing,
burning. Her toes were curled over the edge of the precipice.

He breathed against her, his breath so hot. He panted and growled against her. He
was saying things she couldn’t completely understand—she could only hear single words:
“damn,” “burn,” “yes.” She didn’t know if he was telling her to do something, but
even if he was, there was no way she could comply. Every muscle in her body had gone
stiff, every limb straight.

His thrusts grew more powerful. Emma’s back arched. Her body welcomed him, wanting
more, deeper, harder. He seemed to understand its demands, and his rigid fingers drove
fiercely into her. His breath whispered over her clitoris. And then his lips circled
it again, and he sucked. Hard.

She didn’t step off the precipice—she leapt off it. Her body bucked violently on the
bed, but she was hardly aware of it. There was only the sweet pulse of light inside
her as the ball that had been coalescing inside her unraveled. She didn’t fall—she
was soaring through the air, every part of her body undulating with the pleasure.

Slowly, the pulses receded, turning into languid glides under her skin. His fingers
had stilled as her body clenched rhythmically over them. His mouth had stilled, too,
and now pressed gently against her.

The release loosened every muscle in her body, until she lay limp and boneless on
the bed, her vision hazy.

Ever so slowly, he pulled out of her, and her sex clenched at the raw sensation of
the movement over her flesh.

She struggled to focus on him. He was gazing at her, his lips wet—with her juices.
Her heart, which was still pounding furiously, clenched a little at that observation.

The way he was gazing at her—his eyes were filled with
wonder
.

“Damn, Emma,” he whispered huskily.

Still staring at her, he crawled up her body. When he was face-to-face with her, he
lay down beside her, turning her, pulling her naked body against his clothed one.

“What?” she asked, concern and self-consciousness flooding through her. “Did I do
it wrong?”

He blinked. “Wrong? Hell, no.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “It’s just…I
don’t think I’ve ever made a woman come so hard.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks heated. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he kissed her again, his
lips pressing hers open.

“See how good you taste, Em?” he husked out.

She couldn’t answer that. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him harder, feeling
the need to somehow thank him for the experience she’d just had.

She pressed her body against him, feeling the tautness of his erection behind his
trousers. She rubbed her pelvis against it.

If that was what he wanted, she’d give it to him. She’d give him anything right now.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered against his mouth.

“It’s no longer a matter of want. I need you. I need you so much it’s about to kill
me.”

“Then take me, Luke.”

Still kissing her, one hand behind her head to keep her lips pinned against his, he
shuffled a bit and then she felt his hand reach down and begin fumbling with the falls
of his trousers. Still kissing him—she’d never get enough of this man’s lips—she helped
him by pulling his shirt up, running her fingers up his chest beneath the linen.

But he stopped her, moving his hand from behind her head and pressing her hands to
his falls. “Help me,” he said roughly. “Unbutton them. Take them off.”

Her fingers more nimble than she’d expected, she opened the front placket of his trousers.
His erection bulged behind his drawers, and she untied the string that held them in
place. Then, as he lifted his hips, she pulled them down, swallowing hard as his erection
sprang free.

He was larger than her husband had been. Thicker.

Her eyes flickered up to his. He was gazing at her, a soft smirk on his face. It made
her smile as she continued removing his clothes.

After she’d pushed them over the curve of his buttocks and he had kicked them away,
he rolled her to her back and lay atop her, his organ pressing into her belly. He
moved his hips, sliding himself over her gently.

“Do you feel that? That’s going to be inside you soon.”

“Yes. I feel it.” She met his gaze. His expression was so hot, so delicious, she wanted
him inside her this instant.

But he bent his head, sliding down her, his length passing over the top of her still
ever-so-sensitive sex and down to press against her thigh. He kissed her between her
breasts and licked his way up the slope of one of them. Then he swirled his tongue
around her nipple, and it tightened and puckered for him as if begging for more of
his attention.

He gave it. Moving from one side to the other, cupping the globes of flesh in his
hands, he kissed and suckled her.

Moans escaped from her throat again, like when he’d kissed her thigh—but this was
stronger. Arrows of pleasure seemed to shoot from each of her breasts to the target
deep in her womb, where the heat built quickly into a simmering, burning ache.

“Please, Luke,” she gasped. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she didn’t
know whether to push him away or drag him closer.

“You have the loveliest breasts I’ve ever seen,” he said, pulling up briefly before
he bent down again to take a nipple into his mouth. He licked her, his tongue swirling
over the puckered flesh, and she drew him against her, her body arching against his.

He still wore his shirt. She would take it off now, but— Oh, Lord. He moved to the
other side, drawing that nipple into his mouth while his hand came to the one he’d
just left, his fingers deftly moving over the damp flesh and then pinching her hard.

Emma cried out, her body bucking uncontrollably. That arrow had met its target, stabbing
her in a place so deep and pleasurable inside her, she couldn’t define it.

His mouth gentled over her nipple as his hand drifted down her waist. He pulled her
leg open wide and slipped his fingers between her legs.

“God,” he murmured. “You’re so wet. Is all that for me?”

“Yes,” she said. “All of it.”

“Good.”

He released her breasts, moving up her body once more. He braced his arms on either
side of her, and his blue, blue eyes gazed down at her. “Are you ready?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He shifted a little, one of his hands moving down to align his shaft with her entrance.
He swiped the broad head of himself over her a few times, touching her clitoris, making
her quiver beneath him.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he stilled. Looking into her eyes, he notched
himself at her entrance. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed himself in.

“Oh, Luke,” she whispered. “Oh, Luke.” She was nearly sobbing, though she couldn’t
comprehend why. Her pelvis tilted upward, trying to take more of him, to take him
faster, deeper.

But he held his pace—his slow pace that was going to drive her insane. And then he
stopped altogether, gazing down at her. “Do you want more?” he ground out.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

His smile was feral. But she only saw it for an instant, and then he surged into her.
Emma’s body bowed up off the bed. She nearly screamed. The sensations were so strong.
He was so large. He made her feel so tiny and feminine, so deliciously helpless.

“Like that?” he growled. Even though he kept most of his weight on his forearms on
either side of her head, his chest was heavy and hot on hers behind the fabric of
his shirt. She liked it there, pressing her down into the bed. Holding her. Keeping
her safely trapped beneath him.

His mouth moved against the shell of her ear. “Like that, Emma?” he repeated.

“Yes. Just like that.”

“Not too hard?” And for the first time in a while, she detected that hint of insecurity
in his voice.

“Harder,” she told him.

He was still for a moment, but she felt his response in the tremor under his skin.

And then he jerked out of her. She arched up, trying to hold him in her body, trying
not to lose him. But when the blunt head of him was at her entrance, he surged inside
her again, filling her completely.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She was shaking. He was so hard. So big. So strong. So intensely
masculine.

He did it again. And again. Over and over, he pounded into her, his thrusts so powerful
she thought she might splinter. Splinter in the most delicious, most pleasurable way
possible.

She wrapped her arms around him. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his. She
grabbed bunches of his linen shirt in her fists. And she could only hold on as he
turned her body into one massive, sensitive nerve—a nerve that was getting stroked
again and again by his powerful thrusts, by his hot, hard, heavy sex.

Sweat broke out across Emma’s chest. Her body burned, inside and out. She whimpered,
making sounds she was hardly aware of. Luke’s breaths were harsh and rasping, his
body tense, his muscles engaged and steely. He surrounded her. His scent—salt and
smoke and soap—sank into her skin, became part of her.

He didn’t slow. He kept up his punishing pace until both of them were slicked with
sweat and every thrust pushed Emma’s breath from her body in a harsh pant.

The burn was scorching. So hot. She fisted his shirt in her hands. Her back arched,
and her pelvis met him thrust for thrust.

And then Luke moved his weight onto one arm, slowing his pace and shifting so he could
pull her leg farther up. She matched it with her other leg, pulling it up over his
buttocks and wrapping it around his lower back. “That’s right, Em. Good.”

He took a few experimental strokes inside her. The change in position, she realized,
had changed his angle inside her. And this…oh, Lord. Pleasure swept through her, so
powerfully she closed her eyes on a whimper.

Luke’s rhythm slowly changed, increased in force and depth until each thrust matched
the intensity of those that had come before.

And, for the second time, Emma unraveled. She fell apart. The single nerve that she
had become shattered like glass, piercing and sharp, cutting through her with no pain,
but with the most excruciating pleasure she’d ever experienced. She cried out as her
body spasmed uncontrollably.

“Bloody. Hell,” Luke whispered harshly. Then she felt his fingers in her hair, wrapping
into the strands, pulling nearly to the point of pain. Her body was still moving,
her sex clenching over his. But with a low groan, he jerked out of her. He sank his
head into her hair as he pulsed over her, and she felt the warm flood of seed as he
spent himself on her lower belly.

He lay there for a long moment, his heavy, hot body slick with sweat, then he rolled
off her. She chanced a glance at him to see him staring at the ceiling as if stunned.
Then, as if he felt her gaze on him, his eyes slid toward her, watching her with a
certain wariness.

Slowly, her lips curved into a smile that stretched her mouth. She felt deliciously
and utterly happy. This was what she had always secretly desired when she’d engaged
in carnal congress before. She’d wanted it to be rough and raw and sweaty. Wild and
feral. With Luke, it had been all of those things…and more.

His gaze focused on her smile, and he seemed to relax minutely, the blue of his eyes
lightening.

“I was going to ask you if you were all right,” he said softly. “But if I judge by
your expression, I’d say you are.”

Her smile widened—if that were even possible. “I am,” she confirmed.

She turned her body toward him, and he put his arm around her and tucked her up against
him.

His seed was still on her stomach, a damp reminder of the wicked things they’d done.
She was damp between her legs, too, and a little sore.

It would probably be good manners to clean herself up, put her nightgown back on.
But she didn’t want to do either. She wanted to press her naked, languid body against
Luke and fall asleep like this with his sweat and his smell and his semen on her,
and the feel of his touch still on her skin.