Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(47)

Her thighs fell open. The heat of her moist center penetrated the thick fabric of his breeches. He wrenched his mouth away from hers. Shoving aside the mass of brown curls that had escaped her chignon, he paid homage to the soft skin of her neck.

Georgina arched her back on a breathless moan, opening herself to his exploration. He trailed his tongue, lower, lower, until he reached the edge of her bodice. With a single tug, the mounds spilled free, the glorious vision his, and only his, to see. The red tip of her nipple pebbled in the cool afternoon air. He took the tip between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth.

Georgina cried out and tangled her fingers in his hair. She shoved his head downward toward the eager flesh. He trailed a kiss around the peak in a ritual designed to torture.

“Oh Adam, please!” she begged.

Adam didn’t know if Georgina even knew what her body was crying out for. He did—and he had every intention of giving it to her before the night was out. Over and over again.

He paused, mouth poised over the straining peak of her generous breast. “You’re mine,” he rasped against the satiny flesh.

She nodded. “Yes!”

“Say it,” he ordered with a scratchy hoarseness. “Say you belong to me.”

“I belong to you. I’m yours. Only yours.”

Then he gave her what she craved. His mouth closed around the red bud. He drew it into his mouth, sucking deep.

Georgina dug her fingers into his scalp, her jagged nails biting hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded on a breathy moan. “Please don’t stop.”

Adam didn’t. He continued his torturous exploration of first one breast then the other. Georgina cried out when he worked a hand up her skirts to find her center. She was dripping—hot, wet, and hungry for his touch.

He slipped his fingers into her undergarments and found the delicate nub hidden beneath her thatch. She clamped her legs tight around his fingers in a desperate attempt to keep him there and ground herself against him. “That’s it, love,” he whispered, encouraging her frenetic little movements.

There was an unrestrained fervor to her movements that served as a heady aphrodisiac. He continued to work her nub. Faster. Faster. All the while, he lavished his attention on her breast.

And then she was coming. In a violent explosion of mewling cries and panting moans. He toyed with her until he’d wrung every last drip of cum from her hot center.

She collapsed atop him. Her chest jerked up and down as she desperately tried to draw breath.

Adam stroked the sweaty brown curls that had fallen across her eye.

“How was that, love?” he asked.

A tiny little snort rustled the skin at his neck. He leaned back to study his wife.

He smiled. It would appear he’d pleasured his wife thoroughly enough to put her to sleep. Masculine pride made him grin. He dropped a kiss at the corner of her temple.

Georgina was working her way into his heart.

And he found he rather liked her there.





Emmet is attempting to secure the help of Michael Dwyer’s Wicklow rebels. Hunter has been dispatched to meet with Dwyer.



Signed,

A Loyal British Subject





Chapter 14




Georgina jerked awake, her heart racing. Her eyes struggled to adjust to her surroundings.

She blinked back the fog of confusion.

“Hullo, love.” With the teasing tone underlying Adam’s words, a reminder of all that had transpired, a reminder that this hadn’t been a dream.

Georgina yawned sleepily, relishing the warmth and security provided by Adam’s strong, sure arms. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Oh, fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes? It felt like she’d been sleeping the whole winter season.

A knock sounded on the carriage door. She let out a gasp and tugged the fabric of her gown back into place.

Adam watched on in amusement before taking pity. With quick movements, he had her skirts down around her legs, her cloak properly latched, and her hair…well, he did the best he could with the helpless mane of curls. She colored furiously at the thought of what his staff would think of their scandalous new mistress.

Another knock.

Adam didn’t give her an opportunity to protest. He allowed the tiger to open the door. Without waiting for the steps to be put into place, Adam leaped down and held his arms up for Georgina.

He lifted her from the carriage as though she were as light as a slip of fabric and not the plump, rounded cow she’d always been called by Father. Adam managed to do something no other person had ever done before—he made her feel beautiful. It was quite the heady sensation.

Adam leaned down until his lips nearly brushed her cheek. “Come along, love.” The warmth of his breath dissolved into a puff of air in the cool winter air.

Georgina allowed him to lead her up the stairs of his townhouse.

All her hopes for a quiet, unobtrusive entrance were spoiled by a long row of servants lining the marble foyer. A man attired all in black rushed forward, an older graying woman at his side.

This had to be Adam’s butler.

Adam took her hand, giving it a small squeeze as if attempting to pump support from his veins to hers. “May I introduce you to your staff? This is your butler, Watson, and your housekeeper, Miss Gayle.” He turned to the staff. “May I introduce you all to your new lady of the house, Mrs. Markham?”