The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3) Sahara Kelly (free ebook reader TXT) 📖

too far down the road to ecstasy. I broke as he thrust so deeply inside me I could feel nothing but him. I gripped his cock with my muscles, and deliberately tried to cling to it, to make it shudder as I was shuddering.

He groaned aloud, a strong sound that echoed around the room, and then he came, pushing deep into me, cock throbbing and pulsing, as I felt his hot seed flood my passage. 

My spine bowed and his lips on one of my nipples sent my frenzy to another high peak.

How long we remained thus, glued together in the madness of our releases, I do not know.

But eventually we eased enough to part, and he immediately untied my blindfold and my wrists. I could see the concern in his eyes and reassured him that I was well and happy as he rubbed the marks his bindings had left on my skin.

We lay together, our hands linked, enjoying the silence and the aftereffects of our ecstasy. The scent of our loving mixed with the fragrance of our bodies, a heady elixir that told the tale of some excellent physical pleasure.

Turning a little, I could see him lying next to me, his eyes roaming my body, his expression one I can only describe as amazement. It touched me so deeply. But instead of words, I took his hand and placed it on my breast, holding it there.

Incredibly, his cock hardened, and I shook my head in astonishment. “Again?” I asked.

“Can you?” he answered.

What else could I say to this man I had desired for some time? “Yes. Oh yes, of course…”

But this time I made sure to ride him, to be on top almost before he could catch his breath. We were possessed, perhaps, in a state of erotic bliss. We were so very hungry for each other that every touch of our skin, every kiss, every murmur was an arousal in itself. 

I brought him to the edge with my mouth and then slid down on him, enveloping him with the hot slick walls of my womanhood.

He groaned as I moved, then reached for me in an attempt to set the rhythm.

I am so proud of myself for what I did next. 

I leaned down and whispered one word. “Patience.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Royce woke as he always did, quickly and completely, a habit learned in his years as a soldier. But this time he was not in his own bed—nor was he alone.

Gwyneth.

He turned to see her, resting on her pillow, angled toward him and with one hand reaching his way. He ached to touch it, to hold it and wake her and take her again in the wee hours before dawn. But he knew his night of wondrous bliss was over. He’d broken a rule, gone against his military nature and indulged his desires instead of his duty.

She turned slightly, sighing in her sleep.

He admitted that it had been worth it. She was—a dream come true. And although he’d steeled himself to spend his life ignoring the softer emotions, preferring to expend his free time with a few select friends or alone, one look into her eyes and he’d been lost.

But now, now the sun would rise in a couple of hours, and so would the house. He wasn’t sure how this night might be perceived by those he nominally led. Would they feel awkward? Unhappy that he’d now joined their ranks as the Lady of Wolfbridge’s lover?

He had no idea, but it was a fact, and thus irreversible. He slid carefully away from her, a last lingering look at her face, blurred in the faint light of the dying candle.

At least he would see her every day. He could hug her, hold her hand, walk with her and perhaps sneak a kiss or two. It would have to be enough.

Silently picking up his clothes, he slipped on his shirt and with the rest under his arm he fled the room, returning to his own chamber, finding it cold and empty.

The cold was remedied quickly as he stirred up the embers and put a log on his fire, but there was nobody there to fill the quiet space.

He slithered under the covers of his bed, shivering a little at the icy sheets. He’d sleep, perhaps, and wake to face a new day, a new year, with a night of memories that would last him a lifetime.

But Morpheus deserted him, and finally he gave up, laying there, staring at the fire and letting his mind wander where it willed.

Just before dawn there was a quiet scratch on his door. Frowning, Royce got out of bed, cursing because he’d finally managed to warm himself. He grabbed his robe and strode to the door, tying the belt as he walked.

“He heard something. Woke me.” Harry grunted as Darcy gave a tiny woof and hurried into Royce’s room, heading for his favourite spot near the fire.

“Damn nuisance,” muttered Royce, frowning at the dog who completely ignored him.

“Yes.” Harry’s voice was level. “You were with Gwyneth. All night.”

Royce’s head jerked back to face Harry. “What? No…I…”

“It’s all right, for God’s sake. Don’t get upset. That wasn’t an accusation, just a statement.”

“And an accurate one, I’ll wager.” Gabriel appeared behind Harry, peering around and grinning.

“Oh Jesus. What did I ever do to deserve this?” Royce wandered helplessly back to his bed and sat on it, his head in his hands.

“Well, you spent the night with our Lady,” said Jeremy, who had joined the growing crowd at Royce’s door.

“I trust she’s still asleep?” Evan yawned. “It’s cold out here.”

“This is no place to have this discussion,” began Royce.

“You’re right. Come on, lads. His fire’s going nicely.” Harry led everyone in and Evan closed the door behind him.

The four men