Succumb to Me (17 page)

“Since you are here early, we will take
advantage of the opportunity.” He lay the paper down on the table
and pushed back in his chair. He beckoned her forward. “Come to
me.”

Her legs heavy with her apprehension, Winter
approached him woodenly, almost afraid of what he would request
now. They had leapt far beyond their first, relatively innocent,
encounters the night before and she knew instinctively that her
‘lessons’ would become increasingly more difficult for her to deal
with. Last night they had reached a turning point in their bargain,
and she would never be allowed to go back to innocence.

“I want you to grow accustomed to me ... to
my body, my ice princess.” Leaning forward, he shrugged out of his
coat and dropped it on the table.

Winter shook her head, stopping before she’d
reached him. She could already feel herself responding to him, to
the scent that was unmistakably his, subtle and masculine. What
hellfire made her want to succumb to him, to feel him inside her
once more? She was sore from his sex the night before, yet the way
her body trembled and moistened for his entry, one would never know
it.

“Someone will come in,” she said weakly.

“No one will disturb us. Come here ... now,”
he said, his dark brows and the look he pointed at her gave her no
opportunity to escape.

Reluctantly, she moved forward until he
caught her and pulled her between his open legs, his hard thighs
rubbing suggestively against her own.

“Take off my shirt.” His voice tempted her
like warm chocolate, enticingly dark. She knew she shouldn’t enjoy
this—it was scandalous. But the thought of seeing his body proved
too much for her to resist.

Her lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air
suddenly as she knelt down and began unbuttoning his waist coat.
She pushed it aside with trembling hands and fumbled with the
buttons of his shirt. Impatient, he helped her, until his torso lay
bare for her to feast her eyes on.

His skin was bronzed everywhere, and dark
hair coated his wide, heavily muscled chest, narrowing into a thin
trail that traveled over his rippled stomach and disappeared
beneath his breeches. She was fascinated by the differences in
their bodies, by how hard and strong he looked. She couldn’t seem
to get enough of him. Each taste left her wanting more and more,
until she feared she would become hopelessly addicted and never be
able to let go.

“Touch me,” he said, his voice strangely
hoarse.

She didn’t look at his face but ran a
cautious fingertip over his chest, tickling through the brisk hair,
reveling in the feel of his taut, smooth skin. His muscles jerked
at the contact, surprising her.

“More, Winter. I want your hands all over
me.”

She knew he was watching her, but she
couldn’t meet his eyes. She was ashamed at her disgraceful
attraction, ashamed of how willing, no eager, she was to do his
bidding.

Curious, she spread her palms over him,
feeling his solid muscles, rubbing her hands over his hardened,
tiny nipples. He grunted with pleasure as she stroked lower, down
the line of his stomach. Dampness grew between her legs at her
boldness, and she welcomed its strangeness.

Winter stopped at his breeches, knowing where
the trail went, curiosity burning away the last of her
reservations.

“Go on,” he said huskily.

She worked at the fastening until she’d
opened it. His heavy erection fell forward from the depths, rigid,
veins swollen along its surface.

The sheer size of him frightened her as much
as it increased her sexual appetite. She couldn’t imagine how he
had ever fit inside her, when just his two fingers stretched her
tight passage to near pain. Just remembering how he’d managed it
made her blush.

“I know you liked feeling my cock inside you
last night,” he whispered, watching her with dark, heavy lidded
eyes.

“Touch it ... touch my cock.” His crude name
for it made her nipples pebble painfully. She grew wet thinking of
him claiming her with his rod, despite her fear of pain.

Emboldened, she wrapped her hand around
it, her fingertips just missed touching by an inch. She was
surprised at its heat and velvet smoothness.
Silken steel
, she thought, intrigued.

“Ah, that feels so good, princess.” He
shifted his hips, pushing forward for her easier access as she
stroked her hand over his length.

“Take me in your mouth, Winter.”

Winter hesitated, staring at the swollen
member in her hand. No lady would do such a thing, would ever
consider it, and yet she wanted to do so again. In truth, she
wanted much more than that. She wanted to take him into her other
mouth. Her throat went dry at the thought.

At her hesitation, he said, “Please.”

It was all she needed to propel her into
action. Let him be the one to beg now, she thought, a sense of
power engulfing her.

She bent her head and tentatively wrapped her
lips around the head of his shaft, licking off the clear bead of
moisture glistening on its tip before the thought occurred to her
not to.

He threw back his head and groaned long and
hard, drew his hand over the crown of her head to hold her in
place, running his fingers through her hair.

He was salty and huge, crowding into her
mouth. Winter wasn’t quite sure what to do with him now, but
wondered what he’d feel like against her tongue. She rubbed it
along the rim of his helmeted tip, holding his shaft steady with
her hand. His skin was so smooth, it invited her to taste more.

He tugged her hair slightly, shifting in his
seat. “Suck me, Winter,” he ground out roughly.

The thought of him helpless against her,
needing her mouth, excited her. Her cleft was soaked through,
throbbing.

Slowly, she sucked him, as he had her, but
harder and harder, his ragged breathing and stroking hands guiding
her.

Logan put a hand over hers, showing her how
to pump his shaft, milking him. She stroked him as he’d shown her,
and a hoarse groan tore from his throat as he arched into her.

Winter moved him in and out, tongue teasing,
suckling his rigid flesh, his essence.

She couldn’t get enough of him, of holding
him in her thrall. The power was heady, intoxicating her with each
pull of her mouth on his shaft.

“Take me out of your mouth ...
now
,” he gasped, hips bucking.
“Straddle me. Take me into that tight little
cunt
of yours,” he demanded.

The filthy word made her wetter. She hiked
her skirts up and straddled his lap, hooking her legs over the arms
of his chair, splaying her wet sex open for him. He held his cock
steady, allowing her to slowly slide down over his length.

She was still swollen from the night before,
but her body seemed ready to take him again. She groaned at the
erotic feel of him as she sunk down on his engorged member. He
grasped her hips, forcing her down hard and deep on his cock. She
cried out, arching her back to take him all the way.

He growled and kissed the base of her throat,
lifting her up and down with his great strength as he set her into
a rhythm. She flexed her thighs, riding his cock until she caught
on to what he wanted and rode him, coming down hard on his lap and
lifting off, back down hard. She impaled herself on him and felt so
naughty about what she was doing, still fully clothed, she thought
she would die from the shameful pleasure of it.

His hips jerked. She felt his cock buck
inside her. His motions increased her desire. Her cream eased his
passage, soaking them both, making her slick and wet as she drove
him deep and hard, bumping the head of his cock against the mouth
of her womb.

Tendrils of pleasure erupted within her. Her
channel clenched and unclenches, grasping him like a fist as her
orgasm came upon them both. It seemed to push him over the edge.
She felt the jerk of his shaft inside her, felt the white hot spew
of his seed deep in her womb.

Winter kissed him passionately, riding the
cresting wave until she was sapped of all energy, spent and
wasted.

Weak from exertion, it took her a moment to
catch her breath and gain the energy to get off of his lap. She
stood up slowly, heard the soft smack of her channel as his shaft
was freed from the fist of her sex. He collapsed back, spent and
exhausted.

She’d pleased him, and the thought brought a
surge of pleasure unlike any she’d known.

“Thank you,” he whispered and pulled her
against his chest to hold her around her hips. He kissed her hands
and held her close. She sensed he wanted to say more than thanks,
and she waited eagerly, but he remained silent, saying no more.

After a time, he lifted her from his lap,
rose and began to dress himself.

“Now I must see you home. You should not have
come this morning. It is too dangerous. The gossip mongers are on
my trail now, and I will not have you exposed.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Winter didn’t say anything as they got into
his readied carriage and began the trip to her home. He’d insisted
on escorting her for some unfathomable reason she couldn’t know—and
he wouldn’t explain.

The early traffic promised the ride
would be a lengthy one. She should have been worried, but she
couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think of the consequences of her
actions this morning. All she could do was
feel
.

Winter squirmed in her seat, discomfort
causing her womb to ache with longing. She wondered what was the
matter with her, that she could go so easily from despising him to
desperately longing to feel him over and over again?

Had she been a maiden for too long, that the
first touch of a man drove her to her knees with desire? Was this
why the sexes were kept separate from one another, so situations
like this could not arise? Or was she a freak of nature, a wanton,
a whore?

When she continued to move around, Logan
said, “What is the matter? Why do you not sit still?” He’d watched
her the entire time, but she’d been too absorbed in her dilemma to
notice.

“I ... ache,” she whispered, embarrassed at
admitting her weakness.

He smiled, and she felt her heart flutter
with pleasure at the sight of it. He almost seemed as he had once
been, before her mistake of the past.

“You are insatiable.”

“I am not.” She resented the implication. He
had no idea what she was going through.

Logan pulled her onto his lap with a speed
and strength that shocked her into silence and immobility.

“I will make it better.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.
Her mind had finally caught up to her reality.

“Giving you pleasure.” He pushed her skirts
up, baring her thighs, clearing the way of obstruction.

“We can’t do that here!” She struggled to
push her skirts back down, but he overwhelmed her with his strength
and determination. She wanted to fight him, truly she did, but the
promise of relief only he could give her was enough to break her
vows of sensibility.

“Why ever not? It is more private here than
some places I know of. And what harm is one more time before you
go?” He kissed her neck, nibbling the sensitive skin. “We will both
enjoy it, I promise,” he whispered hotly at her ear.

She blushed and he moved her skirts out of
the way, spread her legs until she could straddle his lap without
hindrance.

Winter tried to remain aloof, to not touch
him as he wished, but he grasped her hips firmly and pulled her
down on top of him until her moist cleft nestled against his male
hardness.

At the touch of his rigid flesh and the rough
texture of his breeches, she moaned, gasping at his small torments.
She could think of nothing but his huge size and what it would feel
like inside her, when his hands had felt so good.

Logan wrapped a hand behind her neck and drew
her down for his hungry kiss, plunging his tongue inside to taste
her. She tingled head to foot when he finally broke away, breathing
hard, as did she.

“This is folly,” she whispered, then gasped
again as he forcefully ground his erection up into her
slickness.

“It is fate.” He kissed her again, rocking
his hips to hers, grinding into her as he thrust his tongue inside
her mouth. He moved his hand to unbutton his breeches, freeing his
cock to rub bare skin to bare skin.

Winter clung to him, sucking his tongue,
moving her body with his, the rolling of the carriage guiding their
movement. Her clit throbbed with each torturous thrust, until she
thought she’d die with the pleasure of it. The slipping became a
push. The push became forceful, and then he was inside her,
stretching her with that delicious painful pleasure she ached for
more and more.

He clasped a hand on her breast, massaging
her through her gown, rubbing his fingers over the hard nipple that
begged for him. Winter groaned at the barrier, wanted to rip the
obstruction away, wanting nothing between them but skin and
heat.