Unexpected Pleasures. Mary Wine

back on her guardian, but both had lost everything when they did so.

      “I am not a maiden so discard your concern.”

      “That has no bearing upon how you should be treated.”

      He refused to allow her to push away from him. Instead he cupped her chin and raised her face to meet his.

      “But you were tight, very tight, and I know that I caused you pain by failing to control my lust.”

      Justina pushed a hand against his chest. “I did not ask you to show control.”

      She gained no distance from him, his arm remaining firm and inescapable yet not hurting her. Disapproval shone in his eyes now but it was directed at himself.

      “You should not have to ask me for such. It is my duty to control my strength since it is greater.”

      “Stop it, Synclair.” She didn’t know how to accept the tenderness in his words as genuine. Perhaps it was safer not to accept it, since such kindness so often dissipated the moment a man was in the mood to bend a woman to his will.

      His lips rose, curving into a satisfied smile. She pushed against his body again, using more strength.

      “And do not become smug because I called you by name.”

      He released her, and because of how strongly she had been straining against his arm, she stumbled back a pace. He remained against the wall, leaning on it while watching her with piercing eyes.

      “I am not allowed to be pleased by the fact that you mutter my name, Lady?” He clicked his tongue at her in reprimand. “Now that is most unkind of you, Justina. It is something I have longed to hear on your lips. The sound is as sweet as I hoped it might be.”

      He reached up and dug his fingers into his shirt. With a swift pull, he drew the garment over his head and off completely. It fluttered to the floor. He straightened up and she stepped back because she had somehow become accustomed to him being so close, forgetting just how large he truly was—the top of her head was even with his shoulders. He walked across the chamber to sit down in a chair that was waiting. He pulled one boot off in a quick motion before she was able to force her mind to function once more.

      “What are you doing?”

      His smile turned arrogant. “Disrobing. Something I should have done before kissing you.” The second boot came free and landed next to its twin. “A quick tumble was not why I brought you here.”

      “Wasn’t it?” She was being coarse but she couldn’t afford to think of him as a tender lover. “We both wanted an outlet for our anger.”

      Synclair frowned and stood up. His pants were still open and they slid down his thighs with only a simple push from his hands. He stepped out of them and she turned away because his cock was still hard. It stood fully erect, the head of it ruby red in spite of the fact that she knew he had spilled his seed inside her.

      She had felt it spurting up against the mouth of her womb. A tiny quiver went through her belly as she recalled that moment. It had been more satisfying than any other she had ever experienced during bed sport.

      She must never allow Synclair to know that.

      “I still want to kill de Canis.”

      Synclair was directly behind her. She gasped, never hearing even a single scuff against the floor. But he closed his arms around her, pulling her back against his body in a motion that was fluid and impossible to escape.

      “But not now.” He angled his head so that his words brushed over her ear. The skin on her neck felt the warmth of his breath, and sensation rippled across it. It frustrated her because it was so simple a touch, yet she was keenly aware of it. She strained away from him, struggling when he refused to release her. But his arms were solid bands of inescapable steel about her, keeping her arms pinned against her body, leaving her little to fight with except to squirm.

      He leaned down and placed a kiss against her neck. His lips were hot and drew a soft breath from her.

      “Does this mean you are not finished resisting me, Justina?” Another press of his lips landed on the sensitive skin of her throat. “Good.” He whispered that single word like a judgment, his voice hard and edged with promise. “I believe I am not finished bending you either.”

      A shiver crossed her skin, rippling down her body in response. There was a promise in his voice, one that was unmistakable.

      “You make no sense with such words.”

      He chuckled, and it was not a pleasant sound, but one that sent anticipation through her. His arms relaxed, allowing her space, and she moved away from the disturbing contact with his body only to be caught on his arm in front of her while she felt his fingers pulling on the lace that held her dress closed.

      “I make more sense than you do when you tell me to leave you.”

      “I told you that because there can be no future in what you seek with me beyond tonight.”

      Justina gained her freedom as his arms slacked from surprise. At last, it appeared that he was beginning to accept what their reality was. Her victory was short-lived however because she heard him pull the tie free that secured her dress. The bodice sagged and she had to clasp her arms over her chest to keep it in place. Synclair reached down and grasped both sides of the skirt in his large hands and drew the garment up and over her head while she tried to hold onto her dress.

      “Then be very sure that I plan to make good use of the entire night, Justina.”

      He pulled the loosened gown from her grasp with only a slight sound of tearing. With a hard look he threw the dress on the table behind him, remaining between it and her. Justina turned to face him completely, feeling exposed in her stays and chemise. Her shoes had fallen off somewhere near the wall, leaving her in stocking-clad feet. She suddenly worried that he might find her body unattractive. Her husband had told her that childbearing had left its mark on her, and it had been clear that he did not care for the sight of it.

      “I must return to the palace.” Her voice was low, to conceal her apprehension.

      Synclair shook his head, and she discovered it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Her gaze wanted to slide down his body and soak in all the perfection she knew he’d hidden beneath his clothing. She wanted to be selfish and stay with him. She wanted him to want her to remain even though he had already had her.

      Such was a whimsical idea, one only found in sonnets and fables.

      She had turned her head away but a soft stroke across her cheek drew her attention back to Synclair.