Sylvia Day - Passion for Him

Thick skeins of dark hair tickled her inner thighs, moving as he did, narrowing her focus until all she knew was the tightening of her womb and the helpless rolling of her hips.

He demanded her response, forced it from her, turned her into a mindless creature of desire and need and desperate wanting.

“No…no…no…” she gasped, fighting him even as her fingers tangled in his locks and pulled him closer.

So that he could not leave her again.

Colin cupped her buttocks and lifted her, altering the angle, urging her thighs to widen so that he could take everything. He thrust his tongue hard and fast into the spasming opening, and she climaxed violently, her arms falling heavily to the floor, her nails clawing at the rug.

“Colin!”

She was devastated, destroyed. But he was not done with her. Before she could catch her breath, he was over her, inside her, pushing deep into the heart of her with the thick, hot length of his cock.

“Yes.” He groaned, sliding his arms beneath her shoulders, holding her in place as he lunged with sensual grace and seated himself to the hilt. “Jesus…you feel so good.”

He ground his hips against her, rubbing deep inside her, making her feel every throbbing inch of him.

Gasping, writhing, Amelia accepted his possession with ravenous greed, her swollen tissues parting for his relentless drives with a quivering welcome. He gripped her throat with one hand, her hip with the other, pinning her down. Dominating her. Possessing her. Branding her as his.

“Mine,” he growled, sliding in and out of her, the movements of his hips leisurely, though nothing else about him was.

There was a look on his flushed and sweat-dampened face. Part agony, part pleasure. So austere and focused. So intent. His eyes blazing with heat. His handsome features stretched tautly with strain. It was searingly erotic. Intimate.

Colin was making love to her. He was alive and in her arms, in her body. Whispering words of love and desire, making dreams come true that she had thought were forever dead to her.

Again the tension built and coiled, causing her to tighten around his straining cock and ripple along its length, making him curse and growl. She felt the chafing rubbing of his waistband between her thighs, heard the sound of his boots digging into the weave of the rug, realized he was still partly dressed just as she was.

The image in her mind of how they must look-she with parted robe and lifted night rail, he with boots and breeches lowered just enough to free his beautiful cock, both locked on the floor in carnal congress-took her to orgasm.

“There,” he purred, watching her with a feral smile of possession, thrusting strong and sure, extending her pleasure until she thought it might kill her. The surge of sensation was unbearable, tingling across her skin until it was too tight and sensitive.

When she was limp and whimpering, he sought his own pleasure, his dark head thrown back, his neck corded tightly, his cock so thick and hard.

Amelia watched him as he had watched her, her legs wrapped around his working hips, her hands at his waist. Pulling him into her.

His pace picked up, his grip tightened. She felt the climax coming, felt it grip him in a fist, felt it tighten his lungs. It burst from him in shocking spurts of molten liquid inside her, again and again, the breaking dam heralded by his ragged, extended groan and jerking, wrenching shudders.

“Dear God,” he gasped, quaking, rubbing his pelvic bone against her swollen, oversensitive clitoris and making her come again. Suffusing her body with delight that seeped into her bones and heart and soul. Making them one.

“My love,” he breathed, rubbing his big body against hers, drenching her in the scent of his skin. “I won’t release you. You’re mine-”

She stemmed further words with a desperate kiss.

Amelia woke to a hand held over her mouth. Scared beyond measure, she struggled against her assailant, her nails clawing at his wrist.

“Stop it!”

She stilled at the command, her eyes opening wide, her heart racing madly as her sleep-fuzzy brain came to an awareness of Colin looming over her in the darkness.

“Listen to me,” he hissed, his gaze darting to the windows. “There are men outside. A dozen at least. I don’t know who they are, but they are not your father’s men.”

She yanked her head to the side to free her mouth. “What?”

“The horses woke me as the men walked by the stable.” Colin stepped back and yanked off her counterpane. “I snuck out the back and came round to fetch you.”

Embarrassed to be seen in only her night rail, Amelia yanked the covers back over her.

He yanked them off again. “Come on!” he said urgently.

“What are you talking about?” she asked in a furious whisper.

“Do you trust me?” Colin’s dark eyes glittered in the darkness.

“Of course.”

“Then do as I say, and ask questions later.”

She had no notion of what was happening, but she knew he wasn’t jesting. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded and slipped from the bed. The room was lit only by the moonlight that entered through the window glass. The heavy length of her hair hung down her back in a thick, swinging braid, and Colin caught it, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Put something on,” he said. “Quickly.”

Amelia hurried behind the screen in the corner and disrobed, then slipped the chemise and gown she had worn earlier over her head.

“Hurry!”

“I cannot close the back. I need my abigail.”

Colin’s hand thrust behind the screen and caught her elbow, tugging her from behind it so that he could drag her to the door.

“My feet are bare!”

“No time,” he muttered. Opening her bedroom door, he peered out to the hallway.

It was so dark, Amelia could barely see anything. But she heard male voices. “What is going-”

Moving with lightning speed, Colin spun and covered her mouth again, his head shaking violently.

Startled, it took her a moment to understand. Then she nodded her agreement to say nothing.

He stepped out to the hallway with silent steps, her hand in his. Somehow, despite her shoeless state, the floorboard beneath her squeaked, when it hadn’t under Colin’s boots. He froze, as did she. Below them, the voices she had heard were also silent. It felt as if the house were holding its breath. Waiting.

Colin placed his finger to his lips. Then he picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder. What followed was a blur. Suspended upside down, she was disoriented and unable to discern how he managed to carry her from her second-floor bedroom to the lower floor. Then a shout was heard upstairs as she was discovered missing, and pounding feet thundered above them. Colin cursed and ran, jostling her so that her teeth ached and her braid whipped his legs so hard, she feared hurting him. Her arms wrapped around his lean hips, and his pace picked up. They burst out the front door and down the steps.

More shouting. More running. Swords clashed and Miss Pool’s screams pierced the night.

“There she is!” someone shouted.

The ground rushed by beneath her.

“Over here!”

Benny’s voice was music to her ears. Colin altered direction. Lifting her head, she caught a glimpse of pursuers, and then more men intercepted them, some she recognized, others she didn’t. The new additions to the fray bought them precious time, and soon she could not see anyone on their heels.

A moment later she was set on her feet. Wild-eyed, she glanced around to catch her bearings, and found Benny on horseback and Colin mounting the back of another beast.

“Amelia!” He held out one hand to her, the other expertly holding the reins. She set her hand in his, and he dragged her up and over, belly down across his lap. His powerful thighs bunched beneath her as he spurred the horse, and then they were off, galloping through the night.

She hung on for dear life, her stomach heaving with the jolting impacts. But it did not last long. Just as they reached the open road, a shot rang out, echoing through the darkness. Colin jerked and cried out. She screamed as her entire world shifted.

Sliding, falling…

Amelia awoke to a hand held over her mouth and a whisper in her ear.

“Shh…Someone is in the house.”

Colin’s voice anchored her in the semidarkness. For the space of several heartbeats, the horror and fear from the vivid dream lingered. Then the feel of Colin’s body pressed to her back and his strong arms around her provided much needed comfort.

Awareness seeped in slowly. She noted the elaborate moldings on the ceiling and felt velvet beneath her calf.

They were on the settee in the library. From the look of the fire in the grate-now reduced to mere embers-she had been asleep for at least a couple of hours.

Turning in Colin’s embrace, she faced him and pressed her mouth to his ear. “Who is it?” she whispered.

Colin shook his head, his dark eyes glittering.

Amelia held still, absorbing the tension that gripped his frame. Then she heard it. The sound of a booted foot falling on the parquet floor.

Boots. At this hour.

Her heartbeat leaped from the steady rhythm of slumber to a racing tempo. Unlike her dream, this time it was Colin who was endangered.

He pressed his lips to hers in a quick, hard kiss. Then he slid silently off the edge of the couch. On his knees, he fastened his breeches. He drew his discarded shirtsleeves over his head, then reached for his small sword.