Archer's Lady: Bloodhounds, Book 3 by Moira Rogers Read Free Book Online

slipping over her clit. Then he parted her wide and his breath blew hot over her aching flesh.
    Need grew sharp enough to cut, pulsing inside her until she caught herself tugging at his hair, trying to force him to end the torment. “Please, Archer—”
    His tongue touched and retreated, returned in a long, slow lick surely meant to explore. To learn as much as tease or satisfy. And she couldn’t hide anything from him. Any skill she’d had at dissembling had vanished with his first kiss, turning her gasps and moans and tiny, hungry movements into a map he could follow straight to the heart of her.
    And follow it he did. Light touches turned firm and then back again, ebbing and flowing along with the tide of desire inside her. An expert performance, as dedicated as any she’d given on her knees. This must be how her marks had felt, the foolish men who handed over anything she wanted because she knew how to play them with the promise of more.
    When Archer flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit in time with the frantic rocking of her hips, she thought she might follow him over the edge of a cliff for a chance at release.
    It wouldn’t come. It rarely did, even with a considerate sort of man, and frustration clawed at her when the next twist of pleasure rose almost to the edge before fading away. “Fuck me,” she begged, pulling at his hair. “Just fuck me.”
    He turned his mouth to her inner thigh. “You’re gonna have to learn to trust me, Grace.” His fingers rubbed over her again, and one slipped inside.
    Deep and slow, stroking places that hadn’t been touched in too long, and Grace pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. “M-more?” How tiny her pleas had become, how shaky and desperate—but she did trust him.
    “More,” he whispered. He licked her again, caressing her with his tongue as he eased another finger into her. The twisting pressure of release began to build again, every rock of his fingers spinning it tighter. A slow build, inexorable, until she was gasping and shaking with it. Then—
    Almost. Almost. Her muscles tensed, pleasure sparked, tripping up her spine as she froze, toes curled, neck arched, heel digging against the mattress. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe , too afraid to lose the moment. Disappointment would savage her this time.
    He crooked his fingers, growled and sucked her clit into his mouth.
    Release smashed into her so fast and hard that she bit her wrist trying to hold back a scream that would have brought Cook and Cecil running from the opposite side of the saloon. It felt so good it hurt , shivering sensation pulsing from the core of her being to her fingertips. So good, so sweet…
    And oh Lord , it wasn’t stopping.
    And then suddenly he was over her, naked and settling between her thighs. He caught her mouth in a hungry, ardent kiss, his tongue slicking over hers. She tasted herself, and it was obscene and beautiful and so hot she moaned and tore her lips from his.
    She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take him like this, staring up at him as he drowned her in pleasure or smothered her in kisses. Nothing about it would be no promises , and she tried to twist beneath him. “On my stomach? It feels better that way.”
    Archer pulled back with a groan and flipped her in one smooth motion. “Fuck, honey. I’ll make you come hard, I promise.”
    Of that she had no doubt, not with her knees too wobbly to hold her. She pressed her forehead to the sheets and shifted her hips up, an invitation so blatant it should have shamed her. “So take me.”
    He did, working into her inch by inch, so slowly she couldn’t hide from the starkness of his possession. It had been so long she’d forgotten the way the first thrust stretched her. She felt too small, as wet as she was, as hungry as she was, and for a wild moment she wondered if it would work at all.
    It would have been less torturous as one hard thrust, and less intimate too.