The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(67)

“So bloody beautiful,” he growled. “This time, you’re coming with me.”

“But I just…” She gasped as his heavy stones slapped her sex, setting off new quakes.

“You can do it again.” He leaned over and captured her right nipple between his lips. The hot, hard suckling caused her lower muscles to tighten, and he groaned, “Yes, squeeze me just like that. Stroke my cock with your sweet pussy until we both go over.”

Molten pleasure rushed through her. She was so close… almost there…

He reached between their heaving bodies, strumming her pearl as his cock drilled into her.

“Oh, Andrew—it’s happening.” Sensations overflowed, and, with a cry, she came again.

“Goddamn, it is.” His head snapped back, the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief. He roared as he slammed into her again and again and again.

Finally he stilled, buried deep inside her. The rich satisfaction in his gaze curled her toes.

“Well, love?” he said huskily. “Have I scandalized you sufficiently?”

“No.” She dimpled at him. “You’re welcome to try even harder the next time.”

Her reward was his laughter filling the room.

~~~

After Andrew disposed of the French letter and cleaned Primrose with a moist cloth, he returned to the bed. He doused the lamps and tucked her soft backside against his front. For the first time, he prepared to fall asleep with a partner after sex.

He’d made it a policy never to sleep with customers. If women wanted to fall asleep in his arms and paid to do so, he’d wait until they dozed off before leaving. With lovers, he either left after the act, or they did. He’d never even slept with Kitty: both of them had understood the limits of their intimacy.

For sleeping together was an intimate act. More intimate, in some ways, than sex itself. To be in that unguarded state with a woman, to hold her through dreams and nightmares, to wake tangled up in one another—it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do… until now.

He cuddled Primrose closer. He felt mellow and satiated, his eyelids heavy.

“How does the French letter prevent conception?” Primrose chirped.

He blinked away the beginnings of sleep. Then his lips curled. Her innocence and natural wantonness were a unique blend, to be sure, adding to her subtly off-kilter charm.

“It catches my seed. Prevents it from reaching your womb where it might take root and grow into a babe,” he explained.

“Oh.”

He could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she took this in. An image sprang into his own mind: of Primrose, her belly ripe with his child. The notion of siring a babe had never appealed to him before. For one, he wasn’t certain what kind of father he’d make, having not known his own, and for another, he wouldn’t get a woman with child unless she was his wife. And he’d never met a woman he’d wanted to marry.

Until Primrose. He shoved aside the thought, which was neither here nor there. Regardless of what he wanted, he knew marriage was not an option; she’d been perfectly clear on that, and he’d understood and accepted her terms.

Then why did the image of her, glowing and round with his babe, stir some unholy desire in him? Why did it make him want to mount her again, this time without the damned letter, and plow her until she was full of his seed? Until she was dripping with his essence…

“And the time before… when you, um, reached completion… externally, so to speak, was that also to prevent getting me with child?”

Despite his growing desire, he had to grin at her delicate wording. “Yes. Although,” he said in the spirit of honesty, “it was also arousing to see my seed on your skin.”

“Oh.” This time the word had a breathy edge. “Is that a normal way of proceedings?”

“Perhaps not normal but also not unusual,” he said judiciously. “When it comes to sex, there are many variations, and I’m of the mind that as long as the parties are agreeable and no one is harmed, there is no right or wrong.” He stroked her shoulder, savoring its smoothness. “I meant what I said before: there are no rules in our bed except those we make. I want you to be free to explore your desires with me, Primrose. Tonight’s experiment didn’t turn out so badly, did it?”

“Not badly at all. In fact, I’ve grown rather attached to the looking glass.”

Her sultry giggle dispersed wisps of heat through his blood. He’d never known a woman to be so chatty after intercourse. Primrose, however, seemed intent upon reviewing their sexual activities, and, instead of putting him to sleep, the conversation was having the opposite effect.

He’d climaxed vigorously not a quarter hour ago, and already he had a cockstand. Goddamn. Such recovery was exceptional, even for him.

“This is lovely, isn’t it?” she said with a happy sigh. “I feel so free. I never thought having a lover would be fun.”

His arm tightened around her waist. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s only fun with me.”

She giggled again, turning to face him. Even in the dimness, he could see the gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Possessive, are you?”

“You’re mine,” he stated unequivocally. “In bed, you may play any games you want. Outside of bed—I won’t tolerate it.”