The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(60)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Ahhh. God.”

His reaction, his obvious enjoyment of what she was doing, aroused her. She could feel that part of herself throbbing. She pressed her thighs together tightly and sucked on Harry’s cock. She tasted his semen and wondered if he would reach completion in her mouth. But she wanted him in her when that happened. George licked one last time and rose to straddle his hips. She guided his erection to where it should be, but it seemed so big now. She pressed and felt him begin to part her. To tunnel and push. She glanced down. The smooth red skin of his cock disappeared into her feminine hair. She moaned and almost came apart right there.

“Let me move,” he whispered.

She couldn’t speak. She nodded.

He placed one hand on his penis to steady it and the other on her bottom. “Lean toward me.”

She did and he slid in suddenly, almost all the way. She caught her breath and felt unexpected tears. Harry. Harry was making love to her. She closed her eyes and ground her hips into his. Felt at the same time his thumb touch that spot. She moaned and drew up until only the head remained inside her, concentrating on her pleasure and his. Down, grinding herself into him. Up, balancing precariously on a peak. Down, his thumb pressing against that most sensitive part of her. Up…

But suddenly he broke. He gripped her bottom tightly and rolled her underneath him. Then he braced himself on his hands and ploughed into her, fast and furious. She tried to move, to respond, but he pinned her to the mattress with his weight, dominated and mastered her with his flesh. She arched her head and widened her legs helplessly. Allowed him full access. Gave herself to him as he continued his relentless pounding. He grunted with each thrust into her body, and it almost sounded like sobbing. Did he feel it as much as she?

Then she fell apart and saw stars, a glorious stream of light filling her being. Dimly she heard his cry and felt his withdrawal, like a little death.

Then he lay next to her, panting.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” George stroked his neck. Her tongue was thick with satiation. “I wish you would stay with me until the end.”

“You know I can’t do that, my lady.” His voice sounded no better.

She rolled over and snuggled against him. Her hand stroked down his sweaty belly until she found his penis again. She held it. The argument could wait for tomorrow.

But when she woke in the morning, Harry was gone.

BENNET LAY WITH ONE ARM flung over his head and a foot hanging off the bed. In the moonlight, something metallic shone dully around his neck. He snored.

Harry stole across the darkened bedroom, placing his feet carefully. He should’ve quit the area the night he’d left his lady’s bed, a week ago now. And he had meant to. It had been harder than it should’ve been to watch his lady sleep, see her relaxed body after he’d given her pleasure, and know he must leave her. There was simply no other choice. They had kept secret his recovery from Granville, but it was only a matter of time before Silas found out. And when he did, Lady Georgina’s life would be in danger. Granville was insane. Harry had seen that firsthand during his stay in the lord’s dungeon. Whatever was driving Granville to seek Harry’s death had been let off its leash. Lord Granville would stop at nothing—not even an innocent woman—to see Harry dead. It would be irresponsible to put his lady’s life in danger for an affair that had no future.

He knew all this, and yet something still held him here in Yorkshire. As a result, Harry had become a master at sneaking. He hid from Granville’s watchful eyes and the men who had begun roaming the hills in the last few days, seeking him. Tonight he made almost no noise, just a faint creak from his leather boots. The man on the bed stirred not at all.

Still, the boy on the pallet beside the bed opened his eyes.

Harry stopped and watched Will. The boy nodded slightly. Harry returned the nod. He walked to the bed. For a moment, he stood looking down at Bennet. Then he leaned over and covered the other man’s mouth with his hand. Bennet jackknifed convulsively. He threw out his arms and managed to knock Harry’s hand aside.

“Wha—?”

Harry slapped his hand back down again, grunting as Bennet elbowed him. “Hist, you beef-wit. It’s me.”

Bennet fought for a second more, and then Harry’s words seemed to reach his brain. He froze.

Cautiously, Harry lifted his hand.

“Harry?”

“You’d better hope.” He spoke barely above a whisper. “The way you sleep, it could be marauders. Even the boy woke before you.”

Bennet leaned over the bed. “Will? Are you there?”

“Yes, sir.” Will had sat up sometime during the struggle.

“Jesus.” Bennet flopped back on the bed, covering his eyes with an arm. “You nearly gave me apoplexy.”

“You’ve gotten soft living in London.” The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched. “Hasn’t he, Will?”

“We-ell.” The boy clearly didn’t want to say anything against his new mentor. “Wouldn’t hurt to be more alert.”

“Thank you, young Will.” Bennet removed his arm to glare at Harry. “What’re you doing, creeping into my bedroom in the wee hours?”

Harry sat on the bed, his back against one of the posts at the end. He nudged Bennet’s legs with a boot. The other man stared at the boot indignantly before moving.

Harry stretched out his legs. “I’m leaving.”

“So you’ve come to say good-bye?”

“Not exactly.” He looked down at the fingernails on his right hand. To the place where one should be but wasn’t. “Your father is hell-bent on having me killed. And he’s none too happy with Lady Georgina for saving me.”

Bennet nodded. “He’s been rampaging around Granville House the last week, roaring that he’d have you arrested. He’s insane.”

“Aye. He’s also the magistrate.”

“What can you do? What can anybody do?”

“I can find whoever is really killing the sheep.” Harry glanced at Will. “And Mrs. Pollard’s murderer as well. It might dampen his temper.” And turn it away from his lady.

Bennet sat up. “Very well. But how are you going to find the killer?”

Harry stared. A pendant on a thin chain around Bennet’s neck had swung forward: a small, crudely carved falcon.

Harry blinked, remembering.

Long, long ago. A morning so bright and sunny it hurt to open your eyes wide to the full, blue sky. He and Benny had stretched on their backs on top of the hill, chewing grass.