Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(91)

“I already have,” she replied, cradling his cheek in her hand. “Long, long ago.”

And it was true. She understood now the man he’d been that day—and the man he was today. The two men were the same—her Michael, cruel and gentle, autocratic and kind. If she loved him for his best parts, then she must in some way love him for his worst as well.

“Darlin’.” He skimmed his warm lips over her cheekbone, down to her jaw.

“Michael,” she whispered, longing, hoping. “Can you not—?”

“Hush.” He turned his head, laying his cheek against hers. “Let us not argue.”

She swallowed past the thickness in her throat. They’d already been over this at dinner and come to an impasse: he refused to give up his pirating. There was no more to say on the matter—he was right: discussing it now would only lead to an argument and she didn’t want that just before he went into danger.

So she smiled—or tried to at least, with lips that trembled—and stroked her fingers through his beautiful hair. “Will you lie with me, Michael O’Connor?”

He rose to look at her and she thought she saw something close to love in his black eyes. “If I were at death’s door I’d stand and come to you.”

She’d love this man for the rest of her life. Silence sat up and drew her chemise over her head, baring herself entirely to him. Then she lay down and opened her arms. “Come to me then.”

He needed no further urging. He took her mouth like the marauding pirate he was. She opened gladly, accepting him, catching his tongue and sucking it. He growled and laid himself flat on her, pinning her to the bed. The feel of his coat and breeches against her bare skin was exotic. She wriggled a little, enjoying the friction on her thighs and belly, trying to push the coming sorrow from her mind. She couldn’t change him, after all, only Michael himself could do that. If he refused to act, then she must accept that fact.

Accept and try to recover from the grief.

But he was moving lower now, going from one nipple to the other, licking and gently biting. She grasped the sheets in her hands, gasping at his fierce lovemaking.

“Spread yer legs for me now, sweetin’,” he rasped as he sat back on his knees to unfasten his fall.

She complied, widening her thighs, watching him prepare himself for her.

He palmed his thick erection. “Will ye be wantin’ this now, madam?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered. She wanted to engrave the sight of him thus, about to make love to her, in her mind.

He nodded and taking her by the hips pulled her toward him. He settled her bottom in his lap and pushed the tip of his cock down to rub at her entrance.

She whimpered from the pleasure, the anticipation of what was coming next: joining her body with Michael’s. Submitting to him.

Slowly, slowly he inserted himself in her. The angle was extreme, but because of it, his penis seemed to slide against something sensitive inside her. She felt herself already beginning to break apart—and he wasn’t even all the way in.

“Is it sweet, m’darlin’?” he asked, panting.

She only sighed an answer—the act of speaking seemed too difficult.

Suddenly he was over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his cock sinking to the hilt in her. He was over her, in her, powerful and male. “Answer, m’love. Is it what ye want?”

Oh, she knew well what he really asked. She raised her eyelids languidly as he stroked out and then into her again, his penis rubbing against sensitive flesh, his body dominating hers. “Yes, it’s what I want.”

“And this?” he asked, face flushed, mouth grim. “Does this meet wi’ yer pleasure?”

He twisted his hips, grinding his pelvis against her, his hips widening her legs until she was completely open, completely vulnerable.

She swallowed, awash in a sea of pleasure, close to tears. “You know it does.”

“Ah, good,” he breathed as his great chest rose and fell faster. “For I cannot imagine a thing more sweet than me cock in yer cunny. This is everythin’ good and right in the world. This is what ye and I were made for.”

She blinked back tears, for he was telling her that he cared for her—as much as he was able.

“Is it enough?” he rasped, his strokes growing swifter, his cock grinding against her clitoris.

She closed her eyes, drowning in his lovemaking, pushing everything else aside.

“Silence,” he said. “Is it enough?”

She opened her eyes with an enormous effort and smiled up at him. “I love you.”

His eyes widened at her words and he roared, still pistoning in and out of her. The feel of his loss of control, the rush of emotion made her come as well, sudden and hard. A warm bubble expanded inside her, reaching her belly, her chest, her limbs and her fingers, until she shook with love and fulfillment.

Until she thought she might die of ecstasy and sorrow.

He collapsed on her, panting, and the rough abrasion of his coat on her tender nipples sent an aftershock to her center.

“Thank ye,” he said, stroking her hair. “Thank ye.”

But she turned her head away, afraid he would see the grief gathering in her eyes.

In a moment more he got up from her and set himself to rights as she lay there, her damp body cooling in the night air.