Free First Sinners by Kate Pearce Page A

until she no longer cared for anything except the grind of her body against hers, of his big cock, and of the gathering pleasure that she just knew would be unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
    When she climaxed, he thrust upward and held still while she trembled and pulsed around his stiff, unmoving shaft. So wet now that she could slide over him more easily. Aware now of how to tease him by making each stroke from tip to balls, the downward one a swift taking of his entire length that made her want to growl with pleasure and bite him hard.
    His tongue mimicked the thrust of his cock keeping her occupied and too busy to worry about how she looked, or what she was getting herself into. This moment with him would have to mean everything for the rest of her life. Even if her whole family had been standing there she wouldn’t have been able to stop.
    His hand tightened in her hair. “God, I want to stay inside you and leave my seed in you, know you’ll be wet for days.”
    “That,” she gasped, “is not romantic.”
    “It’s what I want, so that other men will know you’re taken, that you’re mine, that I’m the only man who’ll ever get to fuck you like this.”
    “How masterful.”
    He kissed her, robbing her of speech, and started to move under her, his strength making her submit to his new faster tempo and the demands of his body. His stroke shortened, and he started to groan with each one, his grip on her tightening even as she convulsed around his cock with pleasure.
    “Faith, I need to—”
    She whimpered a denial as he lifted her right off his cock. The hot pump of his come against her stomach made her feel cheated. Did she want to belong to him, have his scent on her, inside her for days? At this moment she would’ve gladly taken anything he wanted to give her.
    With a groan, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and held her close, her face pressed against his chest, her head under his chin.
    “Thank you,” she whispered.
    “Next time we’ll have a bed and I’ll strip you naked and feast on all the parts I didn’t get to see tonight.”
    Not that there would ever be another time. Faith didn’t say anything and listened to his heart slow down and his breathing even out. She wanted this moment never to end. Who would’ve imagined that beneath her stoic exterior she could be just as romantic and silly as the next woman about a man? Who would’ve thought that this particular man, who called himself a rake, and who’d warned her not to trust him, would be her perfect match?
    “Faith?”
    She looked up into his beautiful, concerned face. “I don’t even know what your first name is.”
    “It’s Ian.”
    “Oh.”
    He kissed her gently. “You may call me Ian, if you like. No one else does anymore.”
    “Not even your parents?”
    His mouth twisted. “My father called me ‘boy.’ My mother preferred munna. They are both dead now anyway.”
    “That’s sad. Did your mother not thrive in England?”
    “She was never permitted to come here. My father was ashamed of his marriage to a native.”
    “You were sent here after she died, then?”
    “No, he came to collect me when I was seven. He rather hoped I’d contact one of those many childish ailments that kill the young of the British in India and relieve him of his responsibility toward his foolish marriage. But I refused to die and flourished in my mother’s care.”
    “So he took you away from her.”
    “Of course. If I had to be his heir, he was damn sure he was going to raise me as an English gentleman.”
    “That must have been a terrible wrench for you.”
    “It wasn’t pleasant.”
    She stroked his rigid jaw. “Did you ever go back?”
    “I wasn’t allowed to. The news of my mother’s death was reported to me at school, and I was immediately sent back to class.”
    “Oh, Ian . . .”
    He smiled down at her. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m the Earl of Westbrook. My father and my schooling beat all that foreign