Page 70 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

She poured herself into Sloane’s kiss and wrapped her arms around him, pressing up into his body as if she could become part of him. He lifted her up into him until her feet no longer touched the ground, and she wrapped her legs instinctively around him. A groan sounded deep in his throat and he turned, setting her on the dresser, sweeping away the objects atop it and sending them tumbling to the floor.

Flush against him in that intimate way, Annabeth felt the swell of his desire, the persistent pulse that stirred her even through the barrier of their clothes. His mouth left hers to kiss her neck, and his hand slid up her body and cupped her breast. The touch startled her a little—but not as much as the flood of moisture between her legs. The ache between them grew with every kiss and caress, and her legs squeezed around him. Her whole being was yearning, urging, seeking satisfaction.

That brought another low sound from him, and he raised his head, gazing into her eyes. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Annabeth, are you certain? This is a gift that should belong to your future husband.”

“This is a gift that belongs to me,” she retorted fiercely. “And I’ll choose who I give it to.” She sank her hands into his hair, holding his eyes steady. “This is the time, and you are the man. Make love to me, Sloane.” She leaned forward and took his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss.

His fingers sank into the material of her dress as his body leaned into her, and when he raised his head again, his breath was coming fast and hard and his eyes were dark with desire. “It seems to me that this is unfair. You have on altogether too much clothing.”

He reached behind her and grappled with the hooks that fastened her dress, undoing them with a speed that she thought probably sent several of them flying. Sloane slipped his fingers into the shoulders of the frock and pulled it down slowly, his eyes fastened on her. He drank in the sight of her for a long moment before he untied the ribbon that closed her chemise and slid it up and off her body.

“God, you are beautiful,” he murmured. He cupped her breasts in his hands, stroking his thumb around and across her nipples.

Annabeth drew in a sharp breath at the sensations that ran through her. He looked up at her in question, his hands stilling. “Too much?”

“No, don’t stop. It’s just new. I didn’t know how...how delightful it would feel.”

A slow, sensual smile curved his lips, and he said, “Oh, I can do better than that, my love.”

Sloane leaned down and circled her nipple with his tongue, drawing another breath of surprise from her. Then he fastened his mouth on the hard bud, his lips and tongue sending desire rocketing through her. A moan escaped Annabeth’s lips and she clenched her fingers in his hair. His lips moved to her other nipple, still caressing the dampened flesh with his hand. She felt entirely undone, flung into some other universe of pleasure.

He pulled away. His face was flushed and his lips a soft deep red that made her long to kiss them. So she did and was rewarded with his growling murmur of her name. Sloane pulled her from her perch and set her down on her feet. His eyes never leaving her, he pulled off the remainder of his clothes.

Annabeth’s eyes widened as she took in his naked form, but it was eagerness she felt, not alarm. Hastily she stripped off her dress and petticoat. Undoing her half boots took more effort, but Sloane scooped her up and set her on the bed, and held her leg, unfastening them for her. Just the feel of his fingers wrapped around her calf, so large and strong, was enticing, but then he slipped his hands up her leg to slide her stocking down. And the glide of his skin over hers awakened nerves she didn’t even know she had.

The heat low in her abdomen flamed higher. He undid the ties of her underpants and pulled them off, and when he stood there, his eyes roaming over her naked body, his face heavy with desire, Annabeth thought the fire inside would consume her.

She would have thought that being naked before him would embarrass her, but instead it spiked her passion to see his eyes caress her, the desire in his face etching deeper. She wasn’t sure why, but she lifted her arms above her head and stretched under his gaze. And the sound he uttered now was definitely a growl.

Sloane lay down on the bed beside her, propped up on his elbow, and slid his hand down her body, gliding over her breasts and stomach and legs. His fingers skimmed back up the inside of her thigh, separating her legs. And then his hand was there, in that most intimate of places, astonishing her even as it spurred her desire to greater and greater heights. Apparently unsurprised by the thick wetness there, he let his fingers roam over the slick, tender flesh.

Annabeth tried to hold back a long moan of pleasure, but she could not. His touch aroused her beyond anything she had ever imagined. He stroked and caressed, sliding one of his fingers inside her, then another, and Annabeth moved beneath him, pressing against his hand, driven by a need she could not express.

Sloane bent to take her breast in his mouth even as his hand continued its exploration, and she was swamped by pleasure. Passion built in her, spiraling ever upward until she felt as if she was on the edge, desperate for satisfaction. She cried out as that passion exploded within her, sweeping through her in waves of pleasure—though pleasure seemed too mild a word for it.

“Sloane...” She looked up at him, feeling dazed and limp with release.

His eyes were hot with unspent desire, his mouth curved in a satisfaction that bordered on smugness. He bent to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. “My sweet girl.”

Sloane pulled back and turned as if to leave the bed, and Annabeth grabbed his wrist. “Wait. What are you doing? There’s more, isn’t there?” No matter how wonderful that sweeping tide of passion had been, there was still an ache of emptiness inside her, a lingering feeling that there had not been a completion.

“Yes, there’s more. But this way your reputation is—”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Annabeth moved swiftly, straddling him to anchor him in place where he sat. “Don’t you dare talk about ruining my reputation. Or tell me what I ought to do. You agreed.”

“Anna, please...”

She knelt across him, and his member prodded tantalizingly at her, surging in a way that told her how far Sloane was from satisfaction. “No, you please. Don’t you want me? Is the thought of being inside me so abhorrent?”

He closed his eyes wearily as the surge of his flesh against her made clear what the thought of being in her did to him. “No, you know it’s not. Are you trying to drive me mad?”

“No, I’m trying to get you to take me.” She slipped her hand down and ran her fingertips along the length of his shaft, and he jerked, letting out an oath. “I want all of it, Sloane. All of you.”

“You’re torturing me here,” he ground out. “I am trying to be the better man.”

“I don’t want the better man,” she retorted, trailing her fingers back up him to the tip. “I want you.”

With a growl, he lashed his arm around her and pulled her down to the bed, covering her with his body. Almost angrily he kissed her, but as Anna stroked her hand across his back, curving down over his hip, all trace of anger had turned to desire, hungry and insistent. Sloane made his way down her body, caressing and kissing.