Gasping for breath, she whimpered at the torture he inflicted, dizzy from the way her body molded to his and the pleasure scorching her veins.
“Madame—” She tried to retain some semblance of control. Granby’s large body covered hers, his fingers caressing her flesh, pausing only to thrust one digit inside her before retreating again.
This was not how she’d expected her morning to proceed.
“Madame Dupree has been paid an enormous sum to ensure we are not disturbed. And by the way, she is no more French than I am.” The cooler air of the room slid across her buttocks and the back of her legs as Granby lifted her skirts up to her waist. There was a rustle of clothing and then the hot thickness of him pressed into the back of her thigh.
One hand gently reached to the back of her scalp, turning her head so Granby could press a tender kiss on her lips before carefully forcing her head down, so she lay against the table.
“What I’ve figured out, Andromeda, while I was gone working on myownimperfections, is that I am not good at expressing myself with words.” His fingers stroked and teased, sending a bolt of sensation down the lower half of her body.
“Please,” she whispered against the table, nearly mindless with pleasure. Every caress of his fingers sent her closer to her release. She could feel it tightening inside of her.
“Are you listening, Romy?”
“Yes.” She slapped at the table with an open palm. “Your Grace.”
“I finally have your attention. Good. Now, we can blame Horace for forcing me to be the cold bastard I am, but the fact remains...” His fingers continued to press and retreat until she wanted to weep.
“I will takeallof you, Andromeda Barrington.”
“All of me?” She was panting, her flesh swollen and painful, her nipples so peaked they might scratch the old wood of the table beneath her.
“Yes. Haven’t you been listening? Every luscious bit I find—” His voice grew raspy. “I cannot be without you, Andromeda.” He thrust into her, pushing Romy across the table with a low groan. His hands took hold of her hips, lifting her so that her feet didn’t touch the floor.
Romy clawed at the table as her body stretched to accommodate him. He withdrew, then surged forward again, eliciting a cry from her.
“Andromeda,” he whispered into her hair before his lips trailed down her shoulder. He gently lifted her chin. “Look, naughty little tree nymph.”
She had forgotten about the old, chipped mirror in the corner of the room. Madame Dupree had spoken of tossing it into the alley but never had. The mirror faced them, reflecting perfectly the act that was taking place on a table used previously only to cut fabric.
Granby loomed over her, a dark god bending over the nymph he’d captured. The mirror did not reveal his face, obscured as it was by the thick strands of ebony hair. One massive hand moved up and down her back before settling at the base of her neck, holding her in place while he continued to ravish her with each savage thrust of his body into hers.
Her eyes stayed on their reflection, feeling Granby claim her.Seeinghim do it. The sight increased her pleasure, as he had known it would.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Granby’s voice was rough. “Doing so nearly tore the heart from my chest. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she panted, watching her reflection writhe against the table. Romy’s body sharpened. Tightened. Her toes pointed inside her shoes.
Granby’s fingers stopped. He stayed inside her but didn’t move.
Damn him.Romy slapped her hands against the table again. “David,” she begged.
“Do you accept my apology?” A low moan left him as he thrust gently. “Please, forgive me.”
“Yes.” She whimpered, twisting her hips about. “I forgive you.”
“Good,” he purred against her back before his fingers pinched gently, slamming into her, his free hand coming around to cover her mouth.
Romy screamed her release into the palm of his hand as Granby’s cheek fell against her back, moaning out his own release. The table creaked beneath them, protesting violently over the way it was being used. Waves of sensation rolled over her, rippling across her skin until Romy lay limp across the scarred oak, gasping for breath.
With a soft groan, Granby withdrew from her. She watched his reflection as he took a handkerchief from his pocket, gently cleaning her and then himself before tugging down her skirts.
He nuzzled into her neck, turning her over to face him, kissing her with great tenderness. “I like the gown, by the way,” he said nodding at the dressmaker’s dummy.
“I won’t give it up,” she said, waiting to see frost gather about his lips at her statement. “All of this. Madame Dupree. I won’t.” But Granby only nodded and kissed the end of her nose. He stood, peering down at her from his great height, eyes roving over her still-trembling body and swollen lips.
“You are a magnificent little shrub. I’m keeping you.Allof you.” He leaned forward, drawing his fingers across her breasts and over her stomach before he straightened and strolled out the door. “Come for tea tomorrow. There’s something I want to show you. You can pretend you are calling on my aunt.”
