Starlight (19 page)

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Authors: Carrie Lofty

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Contemporary, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: Starlight
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She felt it happen, when his control slipped as if coated with oil. Needing something solid, she edged against the brick. At least there she wouldn’t fall. Only his strength would rival the wall at her back.

Bunched and humming with tension, his body was solid and strong beneath her hands. Nothing about him was quiet or contemplative now. He attacked her mouth, matched her need, jerked it higher. The sugary tang of whiskey flavored his tongue. He drank deeply of her kisses, over and over, taking all she offered.

He worked his hand more deeply into her hair. Sharp spikes of anticipation and pleasure nettled her skin. She couldn’t get close enough. Pins pinged onto the cobblestones as he plunged his wide hands into her disheveled curls. She sighed when he scraped down to her scalp and tugged her head back, just as he had in the tavern. Only this time, it was no act. He was taking over. Polly sank into the miracle of making this fine man lose control.

Nimbly, she unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt. His fingers, not so sure, worked at her bodice. He dipped his mouth, kissing her cheek and her jaw. They had kissed before. Each had escalated with growing passion. Now her neck became new territory, a new expanse for Alex to explore, to lick, to graze with his teeth. She shivered and sank her fingertips into the hard caps of his shoulders.

He
pulsed
. All energy and need.

He pulled harder on her hair. She fought back just enough to chuckle softly in his ear. “You think I’m going somewhere?”

“If you had any sense.”

“Do you, when it comes to me? To this?”

His answer was a full-on growl. He bent low and sucked the crook where her neck met her shoulder. Garish colors spiked behind her closed eyes. His hands sank down, down, until he grasped her backside.
Hard
.

“Oh, but you do like my arse, don’t you?”

“Perfect.”

Unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, Polly dove beneath the fabric and dragged blunt fingernails across his nipples.

“Just as good . . .”

He broke off. She could just barely see the bob of his throat as he swallowed. The light cast from the lone candle swathed his features in stark, strong shadow.

She scraped his nipples again. “What were you going to say?”

“Just as good as I imagined.”

Before Polly could make sense of that curious sentence, he ground his hips against the softness of hers.

“You want this?”

“Very clever, master,” she said with a quiet laugh.

“Polly, think—I don’t want to . . .”

She nuzzled his neck. The stubble sprouting from his jaw rasped her cheek. She nipped at his collarbone, then down, down, to trail her tongue through his chest hair. “You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

She nuzzled deeper, found one nipple, and swiped it with a slow, wet lick.

“Damn it, Polly. Make me stop.”

“You’ll have to stop yourself. And neither of us wants that.”

“You deserve better.”

“And you’re still able to talk,” she said with a chuckle. “I’m impressed.”

“Is that a problem?”

She stood on tiptoe and nipped his earlobe. “No, a goal for myself. I’ll have you speechless before we’re through.”

As if to make the point unmistakably clear, she
slid a hand down his torso and grasped his stiff rod. Alex’s inhale deepened into a low moan, which affected Polly like nothing else could. His satisfaction wet the skin between her legs. He bucked against her palm, then clenched the flesh of her ass, as if in retaliation. Another crushing kiss. Her head spun when he was right there, again, slipping his tongue between her lips.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “Regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Then make it good.”

He grasped her skirts and bunched the thread-worn fabric in his hands. With the skirt out of the way, he found her drawers and plunged beneath her waistband. Polly gasped against his mouth as he slipped his hand between her legs.

“Christ.”

“Wet for you, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

She noticed the change almost at once. He slowed. He breathed. The rhythm of his fingers inside her became deeper and more deliberate. Each subtle change said that he would see this through. He found a spot inside her wet folds, deeper inside. Hooking his fingers, he pulsed against a place that blazed tingling sweetness out toward her belly and upper thighs.

“Touch me,” he said. No hesitation. Only a command that shivered down to where he pulsed and teased. “Grip me.”

Weaker now, even as he grew more determined, Polly fumbled with his trouser buttons. His distractions
weren’t helping: fingers tickling inside her quim, mouth at her throat. Her palms felt hot, but they were nothing to the raging heat of his shaft. She worked him with a firm, rhythmic caress. Curiosity pushed her as fast and far as desire. There in that corner of darkness, she wanted nothing but to be claimed by Alex Christie.

Delving inside his waistband with her free hand, she found the taut muscles of his buttocks. And squeezed. Hard. Each thrust displayed his body’s hard, unexpected power. Little filaments and sparks radiated out from where he caressed her. All the while she stroked the heft of his solid weight. Hot and huge. His pulse was so strong that she should’ve been able to hear it.

The slick wetness against her thumb caught her by surprise. She swirled it over the head of his cock. He thrust and grunted. Still taken aback, Polly froze.

Is that all?

She only had Tommy to go by with regard to experience. Already Alex had lasted longer, teasing her and kissing her in ways Tommy had never attempted. But she knew a man was finished when his body released its liquid.

With a shaking exhale, her limbs trembling, she let go and pressed her hands flat against the brick.

Alex stilled, too. He lifted his mouth from hers and peered through the dim candlelight. His chest shook.
Strange.
He didn’t look slack and restful as Tommy had. No, Alex looked even more tense and eager.

The cast of his mouth could have been carved
from solid rock. His heavy exhale was nearly a shudder. “Polly, have you changed your mind?”

Alex studied forces of nature, how the stars could burst into awe-inspiring displays of color and grandeur. That was how she kissed him, with the vigor of a storm in heaven. Glorious Polly Gowan with her bonfire hair and unrelenting charisma—wide eyes glittering in the faint light, skin glowing iridescent white.

But she didn’t move.

If he needed to play the gallant gentleman . . . how did a man step back from such a precipice?

Because it was the right thing to do. She must think him some crazed beast. He felt like it.

No matter his hard, shaking muscles, he pulled free of her body, his fingers slick with her sweetness. “I won’t guess what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Bollocks to that. Tell me.”

The puzzlement on her face and along the shadowed ridge of her delicate brow only added to his confusion. He’d thought her throat elegant—her most elegant feature, in truth. As she swallowed past some incomprehensible worry, it was simply erotic. He adored her resilience and fervor, but even more, he needed proof—proof that she desired his attentions as much as he craved hers.

“You . . . you were done, yes? You were wet.”

“Done?” He laughed, as if that might do something to release the steaming passion trapped beneath his skin. “Oh, Polly, we haven’t finished.”

With his free hand, Alex smoothed a caress along
the inside of her wrist and twined his fingers with hers. Then he guided her back to his shaft.

“Touch me again. Like you did.”

Polly gripped him. Her mouth gaped open. “Oh, my.”

“See? Harder than ever.” He’d thought her cheeks unbearably soft, but her pert arse was smooth perfection. “I’m incredibly excited,” he said, his forehead pressed against hers. “That was just the beginning. A little like how wet you are. It’s just another way to ease the joining.”

“I
have
done this before. I wasn’t lying.”

“Oh, I believe you. But I wonder how well you enjoyed it. Did you climax, Polly?”

“Did I . . . ?”

“Climax.” He found her wet sheath again and dove deeper, increasing his speed. “All of this beautiful tension—did you find its release? Or did he leave you wanting and frustrated?”

“Frustrated,” she said with a shudder.

“Not tonight. Tonight you will know how passion should conclude.” He kissed her softly. “And so will I.”

Questions quivered across her lips. Questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. Instead he flicked his fingertip against a place at the apex of her thighs. Her body jerked. “Oh!”

He did it again, then again, building the pattern into tense circles. With one hand she grabbed his waist. Burrowing inside the open flaps of his shirt, she smoothed a rough touch along his ribs. The cadence of his pulse jumped.

Before Polly, when was the last time he’d been touched?

I can’t remember.

When was the last time he’d been gripped and stroked?

Never. Never like this.

As if accentuating her power, she flicked her thumb over his swollen head in faster circles. Alex fought the arousal she stoked. He had goals, too. The way he’d given over to the moment didn’t mean he was a completely selfish bastard. He wouldn’t have his full release until she was sated.

And that, too, was new. To satisfy a woman . . .

She was ripe and eager and entirely his for the taking. That he could have such an effect on this passionate creature made him feel invincible. So when Polly reached down to cup his balls, he ground his molars together and steeled himself. In all the chaos of the last few weeks, hours, minutes—at least having a goal made sense.

A blazing light behind his eyes became brighter. Yet he saw everything with unnatural clarity, down to her individual freckles and eyelashes. Desperate noises filled their tiny refuge, as did the humidity of shared exhales. She gasped his name.

He leaned in close, lip to lip. “Quiet now.”

The few inches between their bodies shrank to naught. He nudged his thick shaft against her inner thigh.

“Breathe, Polly.”

She did as he told—a heady rush of power. And on one deep breath, he filled her.

She groaned softly against his neck, then shivered. Alex hooked his forearm underneath her thigh. So wet. So completely open to him. His rod stretched and pressed and oh, Jesus—he just
thrust
.

Polly held on to his shoulders and tossed her head back. She trembled with each plunge and measured withdrawal. Her breath became erratic. And even in the midst of that gathering pleasure, she found a smile. “You’re not talking anymore.”

Alex wrapped his forearm under her backside and drove deeper. Relentless now. She’d stolen his voice, but he would steal her breath, her very mind. The beat of their bodies matched the thump of his heart. Head down, chest heaving, he claimed her with relentless force. Her little noises intensified, noises like crying and begging and rapture . . . until she pressed her mouth against his chest to muffle her ecstasy.

Alex was an animal now, some night creature crying to the moon. Only the very last vestige of chivalry provided strength enough to withdraw. He found her hand, bringing her back to his swollen cock. Their fingers clasped as he showed her the rhythm he needed. He didn’t need long. After a few hard strokes, he tensed and groaned. Heaving a powerful tremor, he collapsed with his forehead resting against the brick wall, just over her shoulder.

Polly’s grin tickled his neck. “Well, now, that was embarrassing.”

He stiffened, except for his lungs—still heaving. “Oh?”

“Not you, silly.
Me
. How could I mistake the two?”
She licked along his jaw, then kissed him almost chastely. “I’ll know for next time.”

Next time. Jesus.

After retrieving a handkerchief from his coat pocket, Alex did his best to clean up the mess. His chest burned as if he’d inhaled flame. The feel of her body clamping over his cock—the vital, unmistakable proof of her satisfaction—had been more than he’d dared dream.

“Damn,” she said, teasing. “I shut you up too much.”

He shoved the handkerchief in a pocket and fastened his trousers. Polly had already straightened her clothing—the miracle that is woman. Only the tangled wildness of her unbound hair gave her away.

And, God, her smile. A little shy. A lot dumbfounded.

He could relate.

Without thought, he simply reached for her. Crisscrossing his arms around her back, he held her close. She tensed at first, then melted against him. A ragged exhale eased out of her chest.

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