Free Taming Charlotte by Linda Lael Miller

curtain part between his fingers, and then he took the revealed treasure into his mouth, with the same brazen greed he had shown at both her nipples. She made a sound that was half moan and half shout, and felt her eyes roll back as Patrick lifted her legs over his shoulders and continued to suckle.
    She began to babble in a delirium of pleasure, clutching the velvet pillows, then Patrick’s shoulders, then his rich hair. Her heels dug into his back, seeking purchase, and she rolled her pelvis forward against his mouth.
    Finally the sensations gathered into a single wild crescendo, and with a savage cry of surrender and triumph, Charlotte gave everything she had, everything she was, to Patrick.
    She was dazed afterwards, and fully expected him to mount her and achieve satisfaction for himself, but instead he simply held her close against his side and stroked her with one gentle hand. At first she was touched at his unselfishness and restraint, but then another thought went through her mind like a shock.
    Perhaps he simply wanted her to remain untarnished, so that Khalif would still desire her.
    She stiffened, and he immediately subdued her with firm tenderness. “Trust me, Charlotte,” he said, after a long time had passed. “Please. Just trust me.”
    “I’m sure the serpent said much the same thing to Eve,” Charlotte replied, embarrassed that her voice still sounded shaky and breathless. Good grief, she’d never guessed that men could cause such cataclysmic pleasure, even in her wildest imaginings.
    Patrick laughed and swatted her bottom. “You’re probably right,” he conceded. “Now, let’s get you back in your clothes before the servants see you.”
    Charlotte snatched up her robe, mortified at the idea. Suppose someone had come in while she was bucking under Patrick’s mouth like a wanton? Or heard her carrying on as he drove her from one glorious pinnacle to another?
    Raising himself on one elbow, still fully clothed, his hair loose like an Indian’s, he grinned at her. “Why are you blushing, Charlotte?” he teased. “Could it be because you liked what I did to you?”
    She glared at him, infuriated that she couldn’t deny his assertion. To do that would have been plain foolish, after the way she’d gasped and sobbed and pleaded with him for more, and more still. “Your arrogance doesn’t become you, Mr. Trevarren,” she said.
    She was kneeling, about to rise to her feet, when Patrick reached beneath her robe and claimed the place where he had taken such liberties before. He slipped his middle finger unerringly inside her, while rotating his palm slowly against the flowering rosebud he had so thoroughly mastered earlier.
    Charlotte groaned and let her head fall back, and Patrick chuckled again.
    “Oh, goddess,” he breathed, still working his wicked magic, “perhaps my arrogance is unbecoming, but your passion makes you even more beautiful.”
    He teased her a little longer, then withdrew, cupping that same hand under her chin. “Think of me as you lie on your couch tonight,” he said, and then he kissed her eyelids and her mouth and the rounded tops of her breasts.
    Charlotte was still disoriented, and wildly disappointed that he’d aroused her a second time and then left her unsatisfied. She was startled when he suddenly clapped his hands to summon a servant, then hoisted her unceremoniously to her feet.
    “Why, Patrick?” she whispered. “Why did you make me want you all over again, then turn away?”
    He smiled at her and touched the tip of her nose with one finger as a male servant hurried in. “I told you before,” he answered, his voice low. “I want you to think of me, tonight and every night, until I come back for you.”
    Patrick spoke to the servant in deft dialect, then gave Charlotte’s elbow a slight squeeze.
    “Behave yourself while I’m gone,” he ordered sternly.
    Charlotte drew a deep breath, in order to keep herself from crying. “I won’t promise you