Submitting to Lord Rockwell Read Online Free

Submitting to Lord Rockwell
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your eyes. You are not difficult to read, Miss Herwood.”
    She frowned. She was gauche and guileless?
    “Do not distress yourself. Consider it a compliment. I find
it refreshing.”
    Is that what had attracted him to her table?
    “I imagine a visitor from India could find much to disdain
in England,” she remarked. “For instance, certain noblemen can be quite
insufferable here.”
    He grinned at her taunt. “I couldn’t agree more, Miss
Herwood. More coffee?”
    She eagerly accepted, for the coffee did aid with her
headache and she was beginning to enjoy her conversation with Lord Rockwell.
    “I think you are partial to India, Lord Rockwell.”
    “Indeed?”
    She gestured about the room. “You have reminders of her
everywhere.”
    He followed her gaze from the elephant she had held earlier
to a bronze oil lamp above the fireplace to a tapestry on the wall. The image
on the tapestry was a woman wearing a golden headdress, arms stretched with a
bow and arrow, astride a many-hued parrot.
    “Rati,” he explained. “Hindu goddess of love, passion and
carnal pleasure.”
    Her cheeks colored. She recalled her purpose for being here
and, as she had pointed out earlier, it was not for conversation.
    “How appropriate,” she murmured. “I am aware that I have not
fulfilled my end of the arrangement, my lord.”
    “Not entirely. I took great pleasure in seeing you spend.”
    Her whole body flushed. She shifted under his gaze.
    The fires in his eyes flared. “I have much more planned,
Miss Herwood.”
    She swallowed with difficulty the coffee she had just
imbibed and felt a strong need to fan herself.
    “How do you wish to begin?” she croaked.
    “Come here,” he said, his tone gentle and commanding.
    She went to stand before his sofa. He rose to his feet.
Looking down at her, he brushed a stray tendril of hair over her shoulder.
    “What does your body desire most, Miss Herwood?” he asked.
    You. At that moment, she realized that she had never
desired a man as much as she did then. The embers from his recent caresses were
quick to burn anew.
    “My lord?”
    “What brings you the greatest pleasure?” He slid the back of
his forefinger down her neck and along her collarbone.
    “Having a romp at the tables against haughty noblemen.”
    He circled his arm around her waist and jerked her to him.
She could feel his hardened cock against her hip.
    “I promise you will enjoy having lost to me, Miss Herwood.”
As he held her against him, his other hand cupped her jaw and lifted her face.
“You shall not soon forget this night.”
    “And what have I done to merit such a prospect?” she asked
quietly, momentarily mesmerized by the depths of his eyes. Like diamonds, they
reflected an inner fire.
    His thumb passed over her mouth, tugging the bottom lip
down. He grazed the tip of her tongue. She caught his thumb in her mouth and
sucked. Hard.
    He groaned. Removing his thumb, he replaced it with his
mouth. She could taste the coffee and, beyond that, him. His mouth covered
hers, his tongue probed and coaxed. Her head was spinning, she had never
experienced such a full and luscious kiss. Deeper he went but in steps that
assured she could follow. Not at all like her last lover, who harkened to her
mind a pet dog she once had. The dear little bitch would greet her with all
tongue, lapping at her face and drowning her in slaver.
    Lord Rockwell’s kiss was consuming but purposeful. His lips
led hers in a heady dance that left her breathless and wanting. His cock felt
like a steel rod against her. She pressed her hips to him, the carnal yearning
in her body needing to connect with his. He responded by gripping her tighter,
one hand cupping a buttock so that she remained molded to him. She let out a
small gasp. He dropped his head and tongued the hollow of her neck. Any
lingering regrets of having lost to Lord Rockwell at the card table vanished.
She wanted him to take her and satiate the burning within her. Wrapping her
arms
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