While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(61)

He stepped forward and brushed a loose strand of hair from where it clung to her wet cheek. “You should make your sister realize that you’re a person, too. With feelings. And needs.”

“I put those aside when my father died. My responsibility is to Bryony.”

Her gaze drifted back to him and she looked so lost and sad that he couldn’t stop himself. He glanced around and identified the narrow door of a linen closet. With a quick glance up and down the corridor, he took her hand and pulled her inside.

“What are you—”

“I’m taking care of you, Poppy,” he said as he closed the door on them and doused them in the darkness of the closet, his blood pumping as he considered just how he would take care of her. “Trust me.”

The soft scratch of her breath filled the space that smelled of fresh linens. He squinted, his vision growing acclimated to the darkness. A table full of bedding was propped against the wall. He knocked the blankets aside. Circling her waist, he lifted and plopped her down on the table.

He gathered fistfuls of her skirts and dragged them up her thighs. Her hands flew to his wrists, locking around them as though to shove him away. He crouched down before her knees, looking up at the shadow of her face. “Put your needs first for once, Poppy,” he murmured, temptation laced in every word.

He felt her hesitation. She was at war with herself, debating the right or wrong of this.

“It will be all for you, Poppy.” His fingers deliberately grazed the outside of her knees.

Only later would he acknowledge that it was just as much for him as it was for her. Tasting her was something he was aching to do.

Her hands relaxed and fell away from his wrists in consent.

With a growl of satisfaction, he shoved her nightgown and robe up to her hips. He cursed the darkness that prevented him from seeing her in her nakedness. He splayed her legs wider and pressed tiny kisses along the inside of her thighs.

“Struan,” she sighed, her fingers lacing through his hair and sending ripples of sensation down his spine.

“Poppy,” he breathed directly against her sex, his hands sliding around to grip her bottom and pull her toward his face. He tasted her with a slow, savoring lick. She was exquisite. Sweet and earthy and he wanted to dive into her. Drown himself in her essence.

She jerked, clearly startled at the sensation of his mouth on her. “Struan, I’ve never done this before . . .”

“Relax,” he murmured, pausing only for a moment as her words sank through him with a shudder.

She’d never done this before.

Autenberry had not been here before him then. In this, he was her first. He pushed the gratifying thought away, relegating it for later pondering. Right now there was only this. Tasting Poppy, feeling her shake and rock against his questing tongue. He settled himself deeper between her thighs, nestling his face close, adjusting his hands and lifting her higher for him.

“Oh, this is wicked,” she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he increased his mouth’s pressure, his tongue finding her sweet spot, playing with it and sucking the tiny nub between his lips.

She cried out, pushing into his mouth wantonly.

“Shhh,” he said against her as he brought his fingers to that small pleasure button. He rolled it, pinching and then taking it between his lips again, scraping the nub with his teeth and thrumming his tongue over it until she released a muffled shriek, convulsing all around him.

He slipped a finger inside her, pushing deep, curling inward, reveling as she came apart a second time for him, her channel tightening around him and making his cock swell against his trousers. It would be so easy, so sweet. He need only free himself and ease inside her. She was wet and ready. She’d take him.

This was for her. That was your promise. It’s not about your needs.

He lifted himself up. She shook, clinging to his shoulders. Her gleaming eyes locked on to his in the darkness.

She wasn’t the only one shaking. His hands trembled and his jaw locked tight against the ache to take her, finish this and slake his lust for her.

“Struan,” she whispered, her hand lifting to fall on his chest, fingers splaying wide, each one a singeing imprint that he felt through his clothing.

He straightened, brought her to her feet and yanked her nightgown back down, covering her limbs. “Go to your room.”

She stiffened and he cursed himself. His words came out too harsh. He’d hurt her feelings. She didn’t understand.

He grabbed her hand and forced it between them over his swollen member. “Go to your room before I break my word to you and make this about me . . . about my pleasure.”

She gasped. Even in the darkness, he could identify the shock in her eyes, the tremor of her hand on him.

Her lips parted on a hitched breath. “I—I did that to you?”

He said nothing for a moment. Just let the sound of his labored breath crash between them. “Kitten, you have no idea what you do to me.” He forced her hand to rub up and down against him.

He dropped his head with a groan as she curled her fingers over him through the fabric of his trousers, exploring his shape as much as she could. She squeezed him and he jerked.

She yanked her hand away. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“It’s only the sweetest torment.” He took a step back and inhaled a shuddering breath. “Go, Poppy.”