The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(72)

His scent was pungent here. George nudged his legs apart and ran her fingers over his sac. She could feel the things that men called stones rolling about inside. Very, very carefully she squeezed.

“Goddamn.”

She smiled at his profanity. George grasped his cock between forefinger and thumb. She glanced up at Harry’s face.

He looked worried.

Good. Now, what if she…? George bent her head and licked the underside of his manhood. She tasted salt and skin and inhaled his aroma. She shifted her fingers and ran her tongue around the head, just where it began to swell out. Harry groaned. So she repeated the process and then thought to kiss the very tip where drops of seed welled.

“Put it in your mouth.” His voice was a deep rasp, dark and prayerful.

It excited her unbearably. She didn’t want to take his order. On the other hand… She opened her mouth over him. He was very big. Surely he didn’t mean the whole thing? She fit the head into her mouth, like a small peach. Except peaches were sweet and he was musky. Tasting of man.

“Suck me.”

She was startled. Really? She pursed her mouth and his hips came off the bed, startling her again.

“Ahhh. God.”

His reaction, his obvious enjoyment of what she was doing, aroused her. She could feel that part of herself throbbing. She pressed her thighs together tightly and sucked on Harry’s cock. She tasted his semen and wondered if he would reach completion in her mouth. But she wanted him in her when that happened. George licked one last time and rose to straddle his hips. She guided his erection to where it should be, but it seemed so big now. She pressed and felt him begin to part her. To tunnel and push. She glanced down. The smooth red skin of his cock disappeared into her feminine hair. She moaned and almost came apart right there.

“Let me move,” he whispered.

She couldn’t speak. She nodded.

He placed one hand on his penis to steady it and the other on her bottom. “Lean toward me.”

She did and he slid in suddenly, almost all the way. She caught her breath and felt unexpected tears. Harry. Harry was making love to her. She closed her eyes and ground her hips into his. Felt at the same time his thumb touch that spot. She moaned and drew up until only the head remained inside her, concentrating on her pleasure and his. Down, grinding herself into him. Up, balancing precariously on a peak. Down, his thumb pressing against that most sensitive part of her. Up…

But suddenly he broke. He gripped her bottom tightly and rolled her underneath him. Then he braced himself on his hands and ploughed into her, fast and furious. She tried to move, to respond, but he pinned her to the mattress with his weight, dominated and mastered her with his flesh. She arched her head and widened her legs helplessly. Allowed him full access. Gave herself to him as he continued his relentless pounding. He grunted with each thrust into her body, and it almost sounded like sobbing. Did he feel it as much as she?

Then she fell apart and saw stars, a glorious stream of light filling her being. Dimly she heard his cry and felt his withdrawal, like a little death.

Then he lay next to her, panting.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” George stroked his neck. Her tongue was thick with satiation. “I wish you would stay with me until the end.”

“You know I can’t do that, my lady.” His voice sounded no better.

She rolled over and snuggled against him. Her hand stroked down his sweaty belly until she found his penis again. She held it. The argument could wait for tomorrow.

But when she woke in the morning, Harry was gone.

BENNET LAY WITH ONE ARM flung over his head and a foot hanging off the bed. In the moonlight, something metallic shone dully around his neck. He snored.

Harry stole across the darkened bedroom, placing his feet carefully. He should’ve quit the area the night he’d left his lady’s bed, a week ago now. And he had meant to. It had been harder than it should’ve been to watch his lady sleep, see her relaxed body after he’d given her pleasure, and know he must leave her. There was simply no other choice. They had kept secret his recovery from Granville, but it was only a matter of time before Silas found out. And when he did, Lady Georgina’s life would be in danger. Granville was insane. Harry had seen that firsthand during his stay in the lord’s dungeon. Whatever was driving Granville to seek Harry’s death had been let off its leash. Lord Granville would stop at nothing—not even an innocent woman—to see Harry dead. It would be irresponsible to put his lady’s life in danger for an affair that had no future.

He knew all this, and yet something still held him here in Yorkshire. As a result, Harry had become a master at sneaking. He hid from Granville’s watchful eyes and the men who had begun roaming the hills in the last few days, seeking him. Tonight he made almost no noise, just a faint creak from his leather boots. The man on the bed stirred not at all.

Still, the boy on the pallet beside the bed opened his eyes.

Harry stopped and watched Will. The boy nodded slightly. Harry returned the nod. He walked to the bed. For a moment, he stood looking down at Bennet. Then he leaned over and covered the other man’s mouth with his hand. Bennet jackknifed convulsively. He threw out his arms and managed to knock Harry’s hand aside.

“Wha—?”

Harry slapped his hand back down again, grunting as Bennet elbowed him. “Hist, you beef-wit. It’s me.”