Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"More?" he asked as he tilted his head and regarded her quizzically. A dimple appeared on his left cheek.

"Please." She nodded.

"Have you had whisky before?" he asked, his voice soft and nearly as nice as a caress.

"Of course, I have." She rolled her eyes at him.

"When?" he asked as he passed the tumbler back to her with more whisky in it.

Rather than reply, she took another sip of the horrid stuff and was surprised to find that it got better with every swallow. What had once been a harsh burn to her throat was now a pleasant, warm sensation.

"Be careful with that," Will warned.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said before she tossed back the last of what was in her glass. She tried to place it on the side table, but the empty glass thunked against the surface. "Sorry," she said as she righted the cup.

Will smiled broadly at her.

"What's so amusing?"

He wiped a hand across his mouth, as though wiping away all traces of merriment. He failed miserably. "Nothing." He shrugged.

"Come now. You're finding something to be quite amusing. Out with it," she motioned with her hand, only to find that it wasn't quite as easy to manipulate as it usually was. She sighed loudly as she rested her hand in her lap. "I have had a long day. Can we go to bed?"

His eyebrows immediately shot up and the smile disappeared from his face. "Can

we

go to bed?"

"Not we," she clarified. It was as though the man had a muddled mind. She was being quite clear. "Since you're bigger than me, you should take the bed." She laid her forearm over her eyes and relaxed. But then she felt the room spin around her.

"Put one foot on the floor," Will said, suddenly beside her.

She did as he said, but gasped quickly when pain shot up her leg.

"The other foot," Will chuckled.

The room immediately stilled. She lifted her arm and looked up at him. But his gaze wasn't on her face. It was on her body, particularly the area revealed when she'd parted her legs to put one foot on the floor.

"Oh!" she gasped as she tugged the shirt down and brought her foot back up. But then the room started to spin again. "Do be a gentleman, Will, and go away."

"Being a gentleman is the last thing on my mind," he replied, his voice suddenly husky and rich.

***

Will had good intentions when he walked closer to her. He honestly did. But when she'd parted her legs, all those thoughts of good deeds left his head. And would probably never return. He was now doomed to a lifetime of seeing Prisca's most private places in his head, in his dreams, in his hopes.

He removed the counterpane from the bed and laid it over the rug in front of the fire. Then he very gently picked her up and laid her upon it.

"What are you doing?" she grumbled.

"It helps a bit to have a solid surface beneath you when you're too foxed to sit up," he chuckled. He sat down beside her.

"I am

not

foxed," she replied, but the x came more like an s. "I'll show you," she said as she sat up slowly. Seeing her unsteadiness, Will parted his legs and then pulled her to rest between them, her back against his chest.

"Thank you," she sighed and sank into him. "That's much better."

"Just be still," he said. Then she moved. "Priss, if you can't be still, I won't be responsible for my actions," he growled.

She turned in his arms until she lay cradled against his chest, her lips inches from his. "You're never responsible for your actions, William Westfield."

"What is

that

supposed to mean?"

She stiffened in his arms and started to pull away, but he held her firmly.

"I don't want to fight with you, Will."

"I don't care to fight, either, Priss," he murmured.

"So, what would you like to do, instead?"

I want to take off that blasted shirt and taste every inch of

your body.

That would never do. "I just want to hold you like this," he said instead.

"We can't possibly stay like this, Will."

"Why can't we?"

She reached a hand back and rubbed her backside. "Because my bottom is hot."

"I beg your pardon?" he choked. It most certainly was.

She took his hand in hers and guided it to touch her back. Then moved it down and under the long shirt she wore. "See," she said as his hand slid across the silky skin of her cute little derriere. "My bottom is hot."

He laughed out loud. He rubbed his hand across her flesh. She was right. Her skin was warm enough that it was probably pinkening from the heat of the fire. He manipulated his body until his back was to the flames instead. "There, is that better?" he asked. He knew he should stop stroking her soft skin, but he just couldn't.

"Much better," she sighed. Her warm, whisky scented breath brushed across his cheek. His hand continued to rub and finally to massage. "That feels nice," she said, smiling, her voice whimsical. Would she remember tomorrow that she'd allowed him to touch her bare skin? He certainly hoped so. It would make what came next easier.

"I can make it feel nicer," he whispered against her lips before kissing her softly.

"How?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

She nodded, her eyes full of wonder. Or was that lust? He wasn't sure. And didn't particularly care at the moment. He slowly lowered her back to lie on the counterpane, taking care to keep his body between hers and the rolling flames in the hearth.

He very slowly unbuttoned her shirt and pressed his lips to the tender skin of her throat.

"That's nice," she said quietly.

He unbuttoned another button and kissed the cleft between her breasts. "That's nice, too," she said as she arched her back a bit. Her nipples stood hard and pointed beneath the fabric of the shirt. He uncovered her breast and pressed a kiss to the soft, plump skin. As his fingers danced down the rest of the buttons, he took her nipple into his mouth and tongued it gently.

She cried out. The scent of her desire reached his nose and called to the beast within him. He pulled harder on her turgid flesh. Prisca rocked her hips against his thigh, which was trapped between her legs.

"Please, Will," she whispered. "Make it stop."

He couldn't have heard her correctly. Will lifted his head. "You want me to stop?"

"No. Make

it

stop." She gasped as his lips touched her lower belly and his fingers tangled in the hair at the juncture of her thighs. When he moved to part her flesh, she stilled.

"Are you all right?" he asked between kisses against her inner thigh.

"This is what happens…?" she let her sentence trail off and met his gaze.

"This is what happens," he confirmed, as his fingers parted her flesh and his tongue licked across her center.

Prisca called out, arching her hips against his questing tongue. "I like what happens," she moaned as she reached above her head and grasped the counterpane in her hands.

"So do I," he laughed. Then he slid a finger into her as he felt her melt against him.

He would never, ever forget the little gasps she made next, the hectic pants, then the clench and release as he showed her pleasure.

Slowly she relaxed, her body melting back down onto the counterpane. She jerked as he kissed her one last time and then came up to lie beside her.

"I didn't know," she started as she clumsily climbed over him and put her elbows on his chest, where she looked down at him.

"Ow," he laughed. "I give you pleasure, and you impale me with your elbows." He spread her arms so that she lay flat against his chest. The weight of her was perfect, but he wanted more than anything to be inside her. He needed to ruin her before the night was over, but he wanted to take it slowly as there was much more night to be had.

"Is it always like that?" she asked, her violet eyes shimmering with… something. Perhaps it was lust. Or perhaps it was affection. It could have just been the light reflected from the fire. He reached up to brush her dark locks back from her face.