“Well,” he said, “we can go our separate ways and meet up for dinner, I suppose.”
I wrinkled my face up. “I don’t like that idea.”
“Nor do I,” he said, smiling. “You could come upstairs to my room, if you’d like.”
I took his hand in reply and led him up the stairs and into his rooms, where he closed the door behind us. His mouth was passionate and hungry against mine and I was pressing against him, my body molding to his. We moved to the bed and I found myself pushing him back against it, laying him down and leaning over him to unbutton his shirt. I marveled at his body, at the firmness of his chest and abdomen, and planted warm kisses on his skin while he stroked my hair. When I got to his trousers, I unfastened them slowly and tugged them down, revealing his hard length. I kissed the tip of it, then took the whole head into my mouth and sucked gently.
“Sweetheart,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Undress for me.”
I stood in front of him and stripped out of my simple dress, then peeled off my underclothing while holding his eye. When I was naked in front of him he sat up and took me into his arms, pressing his face into my breasts and inhaling my scent. He took each nipple into his mouth and sucked on them deliciously while I squirmed in his arms. In one swift movement, he flipped me over onto the bed so that I was laying with my legs spread for him. I felt exposed and sexy as he crawled slowly up my legs, caressing and teasing the soft skin of my thighs with his soft, hot mouth. When he came to my mound, he nuzzled my slit, tentatively slipping a finger inside of me to gather the moisture that had so soaked my underclothing and spreading it along my folds. He teased my sensitive bud by simply circling it with the tip of his finger, driving me wild with his indirect touch.
“Please, Laird,” I breathed. “Touch me.”
He looked up at me and grinned something wicked.
“All in good time, darling.”
I sighed when he pushed two fingers inside of me and began pumping them in and out, rubbing a special spot deep in my flower that not even I had ever been able to find. It made me whimper and press myself against his palm, begging for more. He obliged this time and took my bud between his lips, sucking on it gently and flicking it with his tongue. I had never experienced such pleasure before, not even during the secret times I’d touched myself over the course of our romance while thinking about him. He removed his fingers and dipped his tongue inside of me, tasting me right from the source. He groaned and lapped at me in long, flat strokes until I couldn’t help but to erupt underneath his mouth, whimpering and moaning his name as my hips bucked against his face.
He climbed onto the bed then and pulled me into his lap so that we were both sitting up, our chests pressed together. The feeling of my soft breasts against his hard muscles was erotic, as was the feel of his naked body beneath mine. I lifted my hips and settled myself on top of him, then slowly lowered them so that he was pushing into me inch by inch. He put his hands on my bottom and began to rock my hips in rhythm with his own, thrusting up inside of me while our eyes remained connected.
God, it was hot. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I was grinding on his lap, pushing him inside of me as deeply as I could and just savoring the feeling of being filled and stretched by his long, thick shaft. My mouth was pressed to his throat, tasting his skin until he pulled my face to his and kissed me long and deep. I could taste the flavor of myself on his lips and it made me want more, so I slipped my tongue in his mouth to gather the taste that was still on his tongue. He wrapped one arm around my waist as my hips bounced up and down on his lap, moving more quickly as I began to reach my peak.
Before it could happen, he pulled me from his lap and gently laid me down on the bed. He climbed atop me and positioned himself between my legs, then slid inside me in one long stroke. He held onto my legs, wrapping them around his waist and began to rock slowly back and forth inside of me, his eyes hot on mine.
“Does that feel good, sweetheart? Am I pleasing you?”
I nodded, unable to speak. He reached down with his hand to rub the little bud between my legs while he made love to me, sending me over the edge so that I was writhing underneath him, my body shaking uncontrollably as I hit my peak.
We made love for what seemed like hours, reveling in the taste and feel of each other’s bodies. We stopped only for dinner, then resumed once we were finished, working ourselves to exhaustion. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, feeling peaceful for the first time in months.
Chapter 6: Laird
I woke up with Naomi’s body wrapped around mine and smiled, running my fingers through her long red curls. Finally, I had touched her, and it was everything I thought it would be. Her soft skin, beautiful lips, the delicious flower between her legs drove me wild with lust and passion. I wanted her endlessly, yet we still had more work to do. We’d have to contain ourselves if we wanted to get anything done.
I slipped out of bed quietly, letting her sleep. Nobody before had ever affected me like this; no woman made me want to stick around, to hold her, to be with her forever. I realized how deeply I loved Naomi the moment I’d kissed her, but was afraid that telling her so would put her off. I didn’t know how she felt about me outside the realm of her desire and didn’t want to be presumptuous or scare her away with my feelings.
I kissed her forehead and dressed before leaving the room and going downstairs for breakfast. I decided I would bring her something up once I was finished if she was still asleep—I’d do anything to see her smile, to please her.
Bess was at the table alone when I descended the stairs. She beamed at me when I took a seat at the table and began spreading butter on a pastry.
“Good morning, Mr. Monroe.”
“Morning, Bess.”
“I trust you had a good night?” she said slyly, her grin wicked.
“Perfect, thank you,” I told her, and couldn’t help but return her smile. Her joy and enthusiasm were contagious.
She leaned across the table then, her face growing more serious than I’d ever seen her.
“Listen,” she said in a low voice, “you’d better not hurt her.”
“I couldn’t,” I promised. I had no intention of doing so. Ever.
“Good. She’s been hurt before.”
I knew that. Something about the way she’d been so shy with me, so obviously put off by the way I’d been flirting with those women the first time we’d met. She had pain in her eyes and she’d been hesitant to let me reach her, even though there had always been an undeniable spark between us.
“I love her,” I admitted. “I won’t hurt her.”
That brought a smile back to her face. We chatted for the rest of breakfast about less serious things, just making conversation until we were finished. I asked Bess to load a tray for me to take upstairs to Naomi and when she was done I carried it carefully to my room and opened the door. Naomi was still sleeping soundly, her hair fanned out on the pillow below her head. There was a small smile on her lips and I wondered what she was dreaming about. The sight of her made my heart ache with love and desire.
“Naomi,” I said softly, after setting the tray down on my desk. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at me for a moment, as if she didn’t know whether or not she was still dreaming. Then her face broke into a smile and I couldn’t help but to lean down and kiss her, long and deep and sweet. When I pulled away, she wrapped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me down for one more. I couldn’t resist her. I would never be able to resist her and I didn’t even try. My tongue slipped into her mouth to coax hers out and she responded eagerly, her hips arching off the bed to show that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I had an idea then about something we hadn’t tried the night before. I leaned down to whisper in her ear, biting her lobe.
“I want to take you from behind,” I said, and she shivered at my words.
“Okay,” she said, though she was obviously shy about i
t. I tried to put her at ease by circling my fingers around her nipples, teasing them into hard points. She groaned and pressed her breasts against my hands. I leaned over her and took one into my mouth, gently tugging on it with my teeth just firmly enough to make her groan in painful pleasure. After I’d done the same to the other one, I undressed and climbed into bed with her, taking my cock in my hand and just rubbing it up and down her soaking wet slit, touching her bud with the head of it. I loved her sweet moaning, loved more than anything to make her come all over my shaft or my mouth. Her body was so responsive and so perfect that it was hard not to flip her over and take her roughly the way I half-wanted to. The other part of me, the one that wanted to relish the feeling of her muscles clenching around and squeezing my cock, won out and I decided to take it slow.
“Are you ready?” It was a question I’d asked her many times during our writing sessions. I had meant this. I had meant to ask her if she was ready for me, for me to make love to her, kiss her, love her the way she deserved. She nodded, her sweet lips parted with desire, and turned herself over, getting on all fours for me. The sight of her sweet bottom in the air made my cock throb almost painfully.
“I’ll go slow, I promise,” I told her, and aimed the head of my shaft into her folds. I eased inside of her so that she would feel every single inch of me. She moaned and pushed her hips back to take me deeper, pressing against me until I was all the way inside of her, the head of my cock pressing against the back of her tight little channel. I started to thrust slowly, gripping her hips in my hands to hold her still so that I could control how I fucked her. It seemed to make her breathless and frustrated, because she tried to squirm in my grip, tried as hard as she could to move back to meet my forward thrusts. I was going to let her, but not yet. I wanted to feel the pleasurable sensation of her squirming desperately on my shaft. She let out a low groan of frustration and her arms collapsed so that she was laying with her face pressed to the bed and her bottom up in the air.
“I’m not going to beg you,” she said roughly, her voice soft and breathless. There she was, the woman who would fight with me, who’d slapped me once when I’d behaved poorly toward her. I grinned and used one hand to swat her bottom just hard enough to turn the skin the rosy color of a natural blush. I felt her gush on my cock and knew she’d enjoyed it despite herself, so I spanked the other side as well and gripped her tighter, speeding my hips up just enough to make her moan.
“Won’t you?” I asked. “Maybe you should.”
She groaned and fought me, writhing against my cock. The sensation was so good I let her go and growled, finally allowing her some control over the situation. The feeling of her thrusting back against me, meeting my strokes, almost made me come immediately. I wanted more, though, so I held myself back and continued pumping in and out of her, my pushing growing rougher with every thrust.
“Laird,” she sighed, her voice muffled by the blanket beneath her face. “God, that feels so good.”
“I know, baby,” I told her, stroking her hair as she moved. I reached around her body and pinched her nipples, toying with them gently as she moaned. Then I grabbed her shoulders and pulled on them, arching her back while I sped my hips faster and faster. I felt her come once but pushed through it, wanting to feel that sensation on my cock at least one more time. She shuddered beneath me a minute or so later and I knew that she was finished. I finally let myself go, erupting inside of her, filling her with my seed.
“I brought you breakfast,” I said after we’d caught our breath, gesturing toward the tray. I carried it to her and set it on her lap when she sat up. She thanked me and dove into it hungrily, devouring every last bite. When she was finished, I took the tray and set it back on the desk, then climbed into bed with her and took her in my arms.
“We have to write one more story,” I told her begrudgingly. I didn’t really want to do anything but spend the day in bed with her, but I had no choice. I knew that Heath was probably furious and looking for me.
She looked at me sadly then and I lowered my face to kiss her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her, brow furrowed with concern.
“I only have one more story,” she told me, biting her lip. “And that’s mine.”
“Oh,” I said, stroking her cheek with the backs of my fingers. “We don’t have to do that, Naomi. Not if you don’t want to.”
“No,” she said. “I want to tell you.”
I kissed her then and our bodies grew heated. I rolled on top of her and unfastened my trousers, unable to help myself with her naked body pressed to mine. She took my shaft eagerly, hungrily, and we made love again.
Later, after we’d both bathed and prepared for the day, she led me outside to the place where we’d frequented during our writing sessions. She sat cross-legged in her dress on our blanket, gazing at me as I arranged my things. I gave her a gentle, comforting look and cleared my throat.
“You ready?” I asked her. She nodded, looking down at her hands.
“I was engaged once,” she said, “I thought I loved him—I still think I loved him.”
“And what happened?” I asked softly, putting my pen to paper. She sighed and fidgeted; it was obviously uncomfortable for her to think about it. My heart went out to her. On top of her financial troubles, she’d had to deal with a bad relationship with a man who hurt her.
“He cheated on me,” she said, looking away as tears began to fill her eyes. “With another woman. He had told me he loved me over and over and yet…”
She began to weep. I wanted so badly to take her in my arms but I had the feeling she needed to be on her own for this, that she wouldn’t want to be touched.
“Go on,” I almost whispered. She looked at me, her eyes red and face streaked with tears.
“He wanted me to marry him still. He said it was the only way to save my estate. Everybody told me to, but I just couldn’t. Not for any reason.”
“Strong girl,” I said, reached forward to cup her cheek. “My beautiful, brave darling.”
“This is the last story,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But please don’t use it in your book. I couldn’t take it.”
I needed one more story and was short on pages, but wouldn’t betray her. “I won’t. You need not even ask me.”
She sniffled and looked up at my face, her eyes full of trust and something else. Love, I thought. That’s what it was. My own heart was reflected on her face and I thought I’d burst with the joy of it. I took her face in my hands and pulled her to me, kissing her delicately on the lips, then kissing away the tears on her cheeks. I wanted to tell her I loved her but it was too soon, not the right moment. I wanted it to be perfect.
We sat quietly as I finished writing her story, my hand moving easily over the paper. When I was finished, we laid together on the blanket, staring at the sky.
Chapter 7: Naomi
I had no more stories for him, not after my own sad retelling of my engagement a week before. He didn’t seem to be able to write anything else—we spent all of our time together, and during those moments we were too interlocked, too close to each other to think or talk about anything but the two of us and the love that was blossoming in our hearts. For I did love him desperately and, though neither one of us had said it, I knew he loved me back.
We made love every night in the warmth of his bedroom. I wondered whether he’d propose to me soon—I believed he would, that it was inevitable. We were so in tune with each other, our relationship so raw and perfect in a way I’d never experienced before. Bess, for her part, encouraged me to tell him how I felt about him. But I was waiting for the right time, a romantic moment that would be so pure neither of us would forget it.
I was in the kitchen with Bess when I heard the knocking on the door. I wiped my hands on my apron and went to see who it was. When I opened the door, a man pushed past me inside. I recognized him as Laird’s publisher, Gabriel Heath.
“Excuse me,” I said, striding toward him and pu
tting my hand on his shoulder. “You can’t come—“
“It’s okay, Naomi,” I heard Laird say from the stairs. I looked up at him as he descended, looking wary and tired as I had ever seen him.
“Laird,” said Heath, with more than a hint of fury in his voice. “Why have you been hiding from me? And where is my goddamn manuscript?”
Laird pulled out the pages we had been working on for weeks and passed them over to his publisher, who rifled through them impatiently.
“This isn’t enough,” he spat. “You need at least one more story. I have already extended your contract and if you don’t deliver, I swear I’ll publicly destroy you, Laird. Don’t test me.”
Laird winced, as did I. I would hate for his reputation to be ruined and didn’t want anything negative to come of his writing, writing that the world deserved to read.
Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel Page 72
