Passion for the Game

“Damnation,” he hissed, throbbing and growing in girth within her. “How could I ever think you were cold?”

Intrigued by his possible meaning, she stil ed just shy of engulfing the root of him.

A muscle in his jaw ticked violently. “Your cunt is burning hot and greedy. It sucks at my cock. The sensation is incredible.”

She smiled and lowered, taking him completely inside her. She knew in that moment that she had his attention. He would desire her while she was gone, and that impatience would serve her Well. Pleased, Maria leaned over him, pausing with her mouth hovering just above his. “May I kiss you?” she asked.

His head lifted, his mouth taking hers, his tongue plunging deep and then thrusting rhythmical y, licking, stroking. Making her shiver.

“Yes,” he whispered darkly, breathing hard, his hands cupping her spine. “Do everything to me.”

She rose for leverage and gasped at the feel of his mouth latching onto her nipple. As he began to suck, her eyes slid closed. She grew wetter, more aroused, the weight of her torso balanced on the hands she had rested next to his shoulders. He drew on her with long, deep pul s that were echoed in the tremors her body made around his cock. He flexed inside her and she moaned a low, plaintive sound.

“This is how we will start the day.” Christopher’s raspy voice was a tactile caress across her fevered skin. “Don’t move. I will suck you to orgasm, and your cunt will do the same for me.”

If she could have spoken, she would have told him that was impossible, but then he would have proven her wrong. His mouth was enchanted, tugging firmly in a timed rhythm, his tongue stroking back and forth across the underside of her nipple. First one, and then the other. His large hands with their tantalizing call uses soothed her as she became more agitated, her body writhing over his in its quest for orgasm.

When she climaxed, he followed her, her cunt grasping at his cock, luring his seed, spasming as he flooded her with a guttural cry. Maria was held taut, suspended, caught in a grip of brutal y fierce pleasure.

He caught her close, engulfing her in warm arms, his lips pressed tightly to her forehead. He fel asleep that way.

But even in slumber, he did not let her go.

Maria entered her rooms with a sigh of relief. She had not been seen by anyone, a miracle made possible by pressing herself into recessed doorways to avoid detection by industrious maids.

In another part of the manse, Christopher slept on. He had frowned when she pulled away from him, but he did not wake.

Shutting the gal ery door, Maria moved through the sitting room toward her bedchamber and stopped midstep, startled by the large form that fil ed the doorway.

“Mhuirnin.”

Simon leaned against the doorjamb, his body ful y clothed and beautiful y attired in rose-colored breeches with matching coat. One heeled foot crossed over the other, but the artless pose was unable to hide the tension of his frame.

“You gave me a fright,” she admonished, her hand pressed over her racing heart.

His gaze started at the top of her head and dropped all the way to her bare feet. She was drowning in Christopher’s robe, so there was not much of her to see, but she knew the night’s lascivious activities could not be disguised.

“You slept with him,” he noted. Straightening, Simon came to her with his leisurely, seductive stride and cupped her face in his hands. “I do not trust him. Because of that, I do not trust you with him.”

“Do not think about it.”

“Easier said than done. Women often find their feelings tangled with sex. That concerns me.”

“Aside from you, I have never had that problem.”

His mouth twitched. “I’m flattered.”

“No,” she said wryly, “you’re arrogant.”

“That, too.” His half smile widened into a grin.

Maria shook her head, yawning. “I need sleep. After I bathe, we will be departing. I think I will nap in the carriage.”

“Dover. Sarah informed me.” He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her forehead. “She has nearly finished packing. My trunks are already on the coach in the drive.”

“I will not take long.” The scent of Christopher clung to her skin and made her stomach quiver. He had kil ed for her, then made passionate love to her, and then held her with such tenderness…The multiple sides to him took her by surprise, rocking the very foundations of the image of the pirate she had once entertained.

Simon stepped back and then moved to the sideboard to pour a glass of water. “I urge you to haste, mhuirnin. We do not want any unpleasant scenes.”

Maria hurried to the bedroom door, then paused on the threshold. “Simon?”

He looked at her with brows raised in silent query.

“Do I tel you often enough how much I appreciate you?”

“You love me,” he replied with a wicked grin. “There is no need to say it, I know you do.” He tossed back his drink and poured another. “But feel free to tel me as often as you like. My ego can bear it.”

Laughing, Maria shut the door.

Chapter 6

“Y ou knew she would be departing this morn,” Thompson said, his face impassive.

“Yes, yes.” Christopher sat on a wooden chair, his body canted to all ow his arm to drape along the top. He was bereft of waistcoat and coat, and yet he was stil overly warm. His body longed to be in motion, to chase after the woman who left him without so much as a fare-thee-Well, and the effort he exerted to remain seated was not insignificant.

His valet moved with quiet purpose, preparing the items needed to shave his master’s morning whiskers. “The knowledge of the men you set to follow her coach does not all eviate your concern?”

Christopher snorted. Concern. Was that what this feeling was? Why did he feel it, when he knew Maria was capable of caring for herself?

Perhaps it was because Quinn was with her.

His teeth clenched.

Quinn.

“Angelica, love.” His voice was low and direct, his head turning to find her finishing her morning tea by the window. “You learned nothing?”

She shook her head, her mouth curved downward. “I did try, but he has a way with…distractions.”

He arched a brow. “How much did you tel him?” He knew little of Quinn, but he recognized the man as one who lived by his wits.

The blush that spread across her cheekbones made Christopher curse under his breath. “Not so much,” she said hastily. “He was mostly curious as to your interest in Lady Winter.”

“And how did you answer?”

“I said you kept your business to yourself, but if you had your eye on her, you would have her.” She blew out her breath and leaned backward, the dark circles under her eyes betraying a night spent much like his.

The memory of Maria, soft and open to his desire, made his blood heat. Scratches marred his back and arms, teeth marks decorated the tops of his shoulders. He had shared his bed with a delectable hel ion and he was marked by the encounter. In more ways than one.

“Quinn’s reply?” he asked softly.

Angelica winced. “He said possession is nine points of the law.”

Christopher showed no outward sign of the effect of that statement, but it prodded him with the same intensity as a blow from a horsewhip. Quinn was correct. It was he who shared Maria’s home, her life, her confidence, and Christopher had nothing of her but a few hours of pleasure.

“Go pack,” he said, watching as the former light o’ love rose and did as he bid.

“Will you seek her out?” Thompson asked, straightening from his task and stepping back so that Christopher could take his seat in the appropriate chair.

“No. The men I assigned to watch her will handle the matter. What I need to learn of her will be found in London, and the sooner I return, the swifter that is accomplished.”

Blowing out his breath, Christopher inwardly acknowledged that he wanted her again. He liked the woman in all the ways men liked most women,

but then he also liked her in ways he rarely liked anyone—he admired her, respected her, and saw her as a kindred spirit. Because of this, he could not trust her. Survival was his goal and he knew it must be hers as Well.

Then there was the small matter of his need to sacrifice her for his freedom. Wanting her was damned inconvenient and in direct opposition to the agency’s aim.

But there were other considerations beyond his lust and the agency. Quinn was not taking care of Maria properly. Sending her alone to meet with Templeton and leaving her available for Christopher’s use were perilous risks.

As he contemplated what manner of mischief she was set upon now, his fingers curled around the arms of his chair.

He remained seated by dint of will alone, the urge to take off after her nearly too much to resist. Maria lived a dangerous life, a fact that bothered him like a sore tooth.

His eyes slid closed as Thompson plied the blade against his cheek. Sadly, despite his desire to keep her safe, the truth was that the greatest danger to her at the moment was him.

Maria leaned against the slatted back of her wooden chair and glanced around the intimate private dining room she occupied. Across from her, Simon watched the flirtatious serving wench with a lascivious gaze. The inn they chose to spend the previous few nights in was comfortable and warm for a variety of reasons beyond the merry fire and worn English rugs.

“She returns your interest,” Maria noted with a smile as the servant departed.

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Under the circumstances, however, I cannot indulge. We are close, mhuirnin. I can feel it.”

After four days of searching and querying, he had located a merchant who knew of a governess recently come to town. Just that afternoon they had discovered her place of employment. No one knew anything about the young girl the woman had been hired to instruct, but Maria hoped desperately that it was Amelia. Information gathered over the last few weeks suggested it was.

“You have worked tirelessly these last days, Simon love. You deserve a respite.”

“And when will you rest?” he asked. “When will you have a respite?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">