2
" Madam, you can’t be more desperate than I.” He wound his arms around her and grunted. “The evidence is drooling on your stomach. I have not lost this erection for five days. Doral looks at me and winces. You have obliterated my dignity in front of my staff. I have become a laughingstock, a by-word for ‘pussy-whipped male’. Every time I walk into a room, the conversation dies. I entered the mess hall, yesterday—530 officers and enlisted men. Silence, Fleur. Dead silence.” She sniffed. By the gods, this must be a unique experience for him. I’m certain he has never been the butt of the joke before. “I don’t think you appreciate the torture and humiliation you inflict. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to ride a horse when I’m like this? Do you know how disconcerting it is to discuss cavalry deployment with Major Truillo while I’m sporting a cockstand to rival a stud horse? I couldn't get the man to look me in the face. Worse, he thought I reacted to him.” She nuzzled her face into Ari’s chest and tried to contain her amusement. Her imagination supplied the picture of the very handsome, very homosexual, very short Major Truillo standing with covetous eyes riveted to Ari’s substantial erection, all the while discussing the dry topic of cavalry placement. “For half an hour all I saw was the top of his head.” He paused for a moment then threw out, “He has a bald spot. "
― Patricia A. Knight , Hers to Command (Verdantia, #1)
15
" I told Ari you were too courtly.” He snorted. Stopping his self-pleasure to finish unbuttoning his breeches, Doral raised an inquiring eyebrow. “And what did our conte say?” Doral toed his boots off, then his socks. “That you were reserved, but totally male. He told me to be aggressive, that you would take it from there. Goddess, did you ever!” She dropped her eyes and watched her hand trace the brocade patterns on the bedspread. “Doral, I think you are amazingly attractive and you are charming company—when I can get you to talk. It is hard for me to, well…” “Make the first move,” he finished for her, shimmying out of his tight breeches and discarding them. He stood before her, nude. “Exactly! Make the first…” She looked up. She felt her eyes grow enormous as they devoured the male glory that was Doral. Undoubtedly, a nude Visconte DeLorion was glorious. Her eyes dwelled there. She couldn't help it. The head of his huge cock was pierced and huge and pierced and—Goddess. She swallowed convulsively. "
― Patricia A. Knight , Hers to Command (Verdantia, #1)