Tempting Fate by Kerrigan Byrne (trending books to read .txt) 📗

the firelight, his cock was like a branding iron, pulsing with warmth.

Clutching her to him, he buried his head into her hair as she explored his sex with careful fingertips and breaths of wonder. Upon finding a large vein beneath, she was delighted to discover that when she fondled it, the entire organ flexed and throbbed, and made a man of his size whimper. She traced the smooth ridge of the head, finding a bead of moisture at the tip, as slick as her own body’s response.

When she palmed him, his hips rolled forward with an instinctive glide, thrusting deeper into the circle of her hand.

A moan of agony vibrated against her ear.

Squeezing, testing, she let him slide against her grip, feeling the intimate skin move like velvet over heated steel.

After only a few thrusts, his body tensed, trembled, and he made the most helpless sound. Something exceptionally low and almost plaintive. His shoulders bunched and arms flexed, though he was careful not to clench her too hard as the flesh in her hand thickened, throbbed, and then released warm and slick pulses against her belly.

He nearly collapsed when she let him go, but he caught himself and shocked her by immediately bending and finding his discarded towel to wipe her skin clean and dry.

After, he plucked her close for a searing kiss, one that tilted the world on its very axis, or so she thought until she felt the familiar softness of her coverlet beneath her shoulder blades.

He’d lowered them to the ground and levered to his side next to her, cradling her head on his arm, leaving his other hand free to mount an expedition of his own.

First, he relieved her of her spectacles, discarding them to the hearth behind him.

Something about the care he took with them touched her in an altogether different way than his fingers did.

“My God,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed as his fingertips dipped from her jaw to her neck and down to stroke into the divot of her clavicle. “I knew women were soft, but I never… I never could have imagined.”

His words pleased her, and yet she felt so exposed like this. So vulnerable and— well— naked. “Is there… Should I be doing something?”

His eyes never opened wider than half-mast as his chuckle rumbled over her like the purr of a lion. “You’ve done enough, mon coeur. Allow me.”

It hadn’t ever occurred to Felicity that a gaze could feel as intense as a caress, until he dragged it to her breasts, the flesh quivering beneath the taut peaks.

Slowly, his hands followed, trailing down the expanse of her chest. His fingers splayed as they climbed one side of the mound, brushed over the sensitive bud one at a time, and descended down the thin skin beneath.

Felicity tossed her head back and closed her eyes, gasping each time a finger found her nipple, clenching as the sensation traveled from her breast, down her nerves, and landed in her loins.

“Do you like this?” he queried.

She nodded, too attenuated by his motions to form a reply.

Reluctantly, he left her breasts to graze her ribs, lifting goose pimples over her entire body as he tentatively spanned her waist, testing its shape. At the soft curve of her belly, he paused, spreading his palm flat beneath her navel.

Over her womb.

All hesitancy abandoned his gaze then, as a fierce expression overtook his features. One that called to the very primal place inside of her that had responded to him from the very first.

This was a man who would have drawn her desire in any time. If he’d have captained a galleon. Or have been a fearsome knight. Or have donned primitive linens and used rudimentary spears to keep the wolves from their door.

Ages ago, when he could have claimed her as his wife by simply dragging her into his hut and breeding with her. When she could have been expected to be nothing but grateful to find a man capable of protecting her from the brutal elements and the whims of other beasts.

In the days when size and strength was revered over birth and breeding, Gabriel Sauvageau would have been a king.

He’d have been worshiped as a god.

If everything that made their connection complicated to the point of impossible didn’t exist, Felicity knew in that moment, he’d not hesitate to plant a child in that place beneath his hand.

An empty yearning opened a chasm there, and her hips undulated restlessly of their own accord.

His gaze snapped to her sex. And stayed there, captured by whatever he saw.

Biting her lip, Felicity fought the urge to squirm as she stared up into his hard, unreadable expression. Was he unimpressed?

“Open for me.”

At his whispered, terse command, her thighs parted of their own accord.

The uncontested ferocity in his gaze stole her breath as he glimpsed her intimate flesh for the first time. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and a flood of arousal drew a soft sound from her throat.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Erotic sparks shimmered through every inch of her body as his curious fingers petted through the dusting of gold hair, and slid into the passion-soaked folds of her sex.

If Felicity had thought to be embarrassed by the abundant moisture he found there, the dark, ardent sound he made deep in his throat dispelled her of that notion.

It was what he did to her, after all.

Gabriel Sauvageau liquified her with every gentle, clever discovery of his roughened fingers as they parted the seam of her sex, sliding over the pliant ruffles of flesh that protected the entrance to her body.

Instantly, he found the swollen nub at her center and pressed it, causing her to jump and squirm away from an almost painful, electric jolt.

He froze, his eyes going wide with panic. “I hurt you.”

“No— that is… it was a touch too strong.”

“Should I stop?”

She smoothed at his brow and shook her head, lifting her hips to meet his hand. Cautiously, he resumed his soft strokes