87
" It was too much. She reached between them, grasping his hand and finally, finally, pushing him against her. She leaned over him, meeting his eyes, seeing the dark pleasure in him, the tightly leashed need. His fingers slid through her soft curls, parting her secret folds, twisting, circling, guided by her hand at his wrist. His thumb stroked long and slow in a wicked loop that made her question her own sanity.
He watched her as she struggled under the weight of the pleasure, teasing her with his words as much as his fingers. "There, love? Is that where it feels good?"
She was lost to his wicked, encouraging words and his wicked, encouraging fingers, and she whispered her response, moving against him. And then he was touching her just as she wanted, circling her perfectly, stroking with exactly the right amount of pressure. It was as though he knew her body better than she did. It was as though her body belonged to him.
And perhaps it did.
One of his beautiful long fingers slid deep inside of her, the heel of his palm rocking against a point of acute, almost unbearable pleasure, and she called out his name, rocking against his touch, knowing that something incredible was about to happen.
"Michael," she whispered his name, wanting more. Wanting everything.
She was filled with desire and greed and she wanted him to never ever stop touching that most secret part of her. "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
88
" This time, when she reached the edge, just as she was about to tip over, he slid deep into her in one long, smooth stroke, stretching her. Filling her. Gloriously. And she was lost, over the precipice, safe in his arms as they rocked together and she cried his name and she begged for more, and he gave it to her over and over until she could not breathe and could not speak and could do nothing but collapse in his arms. "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
89
" Courage flared in her eyes then, and he watched with keen pleasure as that finger, the one he'd made love to, trailed along her breast, circling the puckered, straining tip of it. he swiped the back of one hand across his lips as he watched the movement, as she tempted him beyond belief.
"Please..." she trailed off.
He lifted his head. "Please, who?"
"Please, Bourne." And he wanted to reward her for saying his name- his and no one else's. He leaned down, suckling her gently as her finger moved to her other breast and she exhaled on a long, shuddering, "Yes... "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
94
" He grunted and tightened his grasp. “Stop it.” He lifted one hand and spanked her once, firmly, on her bottom. She went board stiff at the action. “You did not . . . I cannot . . . You hit me!” He flung open the rear door to the Falconwell kitchens and marched her inside. Placing his lantern on a nearby table, he set her down at the center of the dark room. “You’re wearing half a dozen layers of clothing and a winter cloak. I’m surprised you felt it at all.” Penelope’s eyes flashed with fury. “Nevertheless, a gentleman would never dream of . . . of . . .” He watched her flounder for the word, enjoying her discomfort, finally offering, “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘spanking.’ ” Her eyes went wide at the word. “Yes. That. Gentlemen don’t . . .” “First, I thought we’d already established that I am not a gentleman. That ship sailed long ago. And second, you’d be surprised what gentlemen do . . . and what ladies enjoy. "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
95
" I’m not perfect. I gave up perfection when I realized that the only thing it would ever get me was a lonely marriage with an equally perfect husband.” She was shaking with anger, and he reached for her, wanting to pull her into his arms; but she pulled back, refusing to allow him to touch her. “And as for your not being perfect, well, thank God for that. I had a perfect life in my reach once, and it was a crashing bore. Perfect is too clean, too easy. I don’t want perfect any more than I want to be perfect. I want imperfect. “I want the man who tossed me over his shoulder in the woods and convinced me to marry him for the adventure of it. I want the man who is cold and hot, up and down. The one who runs a men’s club and a ladies’ club and a casino and whatever else this incredible place is. You think I married you in spite of your imperfections? I married you because of your imperfections, you silly man. Your glorious, unbearably infuriating imperfections. "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
96
" He sucked in a breath as her hand settled on the hot steel of him. "Penelope..." The word was lost in a groan.
She wanted to touch him, to learn him, to give him all the pleasure that he was giving her. "Show me how. Teach me."
His eyes were black with pleasure, and he moved his other hand to guide her, showing her just how to touch, just how to stroke. When he groaned, long and lovely, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, whispering against his skin. "This is much more interesting than billiards."
He laughed harshly at the words. "I couldn't agree more."
"You're so smooth," she said, stroking his length, marveling at the feel of him. "So hard." He closed his eyes as she touched him, and she watched his face, enjoying the play of pleasure across it.
She rubbed one thumb firmly across the tip, and he gasped, his eyes opening to slits. "Do that again."
She did, and he pulled her to him to kiss her long and deep as she continued her exploration, his hands on hers, showing her how to move, where to linger, how much pressure to exert. His head tilted back, and his breath came in short, pained spurts. "Is this all right?"
He groaned at the question. "It's perfect. I never want you to stop." She was not interested in stopping. She loved watching him take pleasure. "
― Sarah MacLean , A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1)
