His for the Taking
Sierra DafoeAvailable from Ellora's Cave
| Jamie had always spoken of Lord Cantwell as a gentleman, but Darius's grip on her waist now was hardly that of a gentleman’s. In fact, he was holding her so tightly it hurt. Yet some small, shameless part of her wanted him to clasp her even more fiercely, to pull her against him and...
And what? She hardly knew. Even after almost a year and a half of marriage, she still didn’t know what it was her body hungered for. His gaze raked her, flicking from her flushed cheeks to the low neckline of her dress. She trembled beneath it, the tips of her breasts hardening inside her bodice. The furred thatch between her thighs was embarrassingly damp and she was terrified that her partner would somehow guess her arousal. She was acutely aware of the expanse of her bosom, thrust upward by her corset as if displayed solely for his view. This was wrong. This was horribly wrong. No matter how Jamie had treated her, she was still a married woman. She shouldn’t be having such thoughts, such emotions. Shouldn’t be feeling the outer lips of her slit thickening with need as she pictured Lord Cantwell seizing her roughly, dragging her to him, forcing her skirt up and thrusting his fingers between her dripping folds… Blushing, she remembered the nights when she’d done that to herself, imagining some vague, powerful presence over her, inside her. Now that presence had a face, a name. Darius Cantwell.
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