The Leopard Prince (23 page)

Every day she came to visit him in his tiny room, and every day they had the same argument. George couldn’t stand this cramped room anymore—Lord knew what Harry thought of it—and she was about ready to scream. He was going to leave her soon, just walk out the door, and she still didn’t know
why.

Harry sighed now. He must be weary of her badgering him. “It’s not going to work, my lady. You and me. You must know that, and you’ll agree with me soon.” His voice was low and calm. Reasonable.

Hers was not.

“I won’t!” George cried like a small child told she must go to bed. All she lacked was the stomp of one foot.

Oh, Lord, she knew she was making herself ugly. But she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t help pleading and whining and pestering. The thought of never seeing Harry again brought blind panic flooding into her chest.

She took a deep breath and tried to speak more sedately. “We could get married. I love—”

“No!” He slammed his hand against the wall, the sound like a cannon shot in the room.

She stared at him. She knew damn well Harry loved her. She knew by the way he said
my lady
so low it was almost a purr. The way his eyes lingered when he looked at her. The way he had made love to her so intently before he’d been injured. Why couldn’t he—?

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, my lady.”

Tears started in her eyes. She rubbed them away. “You can at least do me the favor of explaining why you don’t think we should marry. Because I just can’t see why not.”

“Why?
Why?
” Harry laughed sharply. “How about this reason: If I married you, my lady, the whole of England would think I did it for your money. And how exactly would we work out the money part? Eh? Would you give me a quarterly allowance?” He stood with his hands on his hips and stared at her.

“It wouldn’t have to be that way.”

“No? Perhaps you’d like to sign all your money over to me?”

She hesitated for a fatal second.

“No, of course not.” He flung up his arms. “So I’d be your pet monkey. Your male whore. Do you even think any of your friends would invite me to dine with them? That your family would accept me?”

“
Yes.
Yes, they would.” She stuck out her jaw. “And you’re
not
—”

“Aren’t I?” There was pain in his green eyes.

“No, never,” she whispered. She held out her hands in supplication. “You know you’re not that to me. You’re much more. I love—”

“
No.
”

But she spoke over him this time. “
You.
I love you, Harry. I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course it does.” He closed his eyes. “It’s all the more reason not to let you be pilloried by society.”

“It won’t be as bad as all that. And even if it was, I don’t care.”

“You’d care after they figured out why you married me. You’d care then.” Harry was advancing on her, and George didn’t like the look in his eyes.

“I don’t—”

He grasped her upper arms almost too gently, as if he held himself back by an unraveling willpower. “They’d know soon enough,” he said. “Why else would you marry me? A commoner with no money or power? You, the daughter of an earl?” He leaned close and whispered, “Can’t you guess?” His breath on her ear sent shivers down her neck. It had been so very long since he’d last touched her.

“I don’t care what they think of me,” she repeated stubbornly.

“No?” The word was whispered in her hair. “But, you see, my lady, it still won’t work between us. We have one remaining problem.”

“What?”

“
I
care what they think of you.” His lips came down on hers in a kiss that tasted of anger and despair.

George grabbed his head. She yanked the ribbon from his hair and ran her fingers into it. And she kissed him back, countering fury with fury. If he would just stop thinking. She nipped his bottom lip, felt the groan go through him, and opened her mouth in seductive invitation. And he took it, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and angling his face over hers. Framing her face with his hands, caressing and punishing her mouth with his. He kissed her as if it were the last embrace they would ever share.

As if he would leave her tomorrow.

George tightened her grasp in his hair at that thought. It must have hurt him, but she wasn’t letting go. She pressed her body to his until she felt his arousal even through the bulk of both their clothing. She rubbed herself against him.

Harry broke their kiss and tried to pull his head up. “My lady, we can’t—”

“Shhh,” George murmured. She trailed kisses along his jaw. “I don’t want to hear
can’t.
I want you. I need you.”

She licked the pulse at his throat, tasting salt and man. He shuddered. She bared her teeth against his neck. She released his hair with one hand and ripped at his shirt, tearing it open and off one shoulder.

“My lady, I, uhh . . .” He lapsed into a moan when she licked his exposed nipple.

From the way he took her bottom and pulled her hard into his groin, he was no longer interested in protesting. Just as well. She’d never realized a man’s nipples were sensitive. Someone should make this information known to the general female population. She took the tiny nubbin between her teeth and delicately bit down. He squeezed her bottom in his big hands. She lifted her head and pulled the shirt entirely off. Definitely better. Of all the things God had made on this earth, surely a man’s chest must be one of the most beautiful. Or perhaps it was just Harry’s chest. George ran her hands across his shoulders, skimming gently over the scars from his beating.

She’d come so close to losing him.

Her fingers drifted down to circle his nipples, making him close his eyes, then lower, into the slim line of hair below his navel. Her fingernails must have tickled. Harry sucked in his stomach. Then she reached his breeches. She explored the flap and found the hidden buttons. George flicked them open, conscious all the while that his penis was underneath, already hard and tenting the fabric. She glanced up once to find him watching her under lowered lids. The emerald fire in his eyes made her squirm. A slow seep of wetness began at her core.

She opened the breeches and found her prize, poking up through the top of his smallclothes.

“Take them off.” She forced her gaze to his face. “Please.”

Harry crooked an eyebrow but obediently stripped off his breeches, smallclothes, stockings, and shoes. Then he reached for the front of her dress.

“No. Not yet.” George danced out of his way. “I can’t think when you touch me.”

Harry stalked her. “That’s the point, my lady.”

Her rear bumped against the bed. She held up her hands to ward him off. “Not
my
point.”

He leaned close without actually touching her, the heat from his bare chest almost menacing. “The last time you played with me I nearly died.”

“But you didn’t.”

He watched her, his eyes unconvinced.

“Trust me.”

He sighed. “You know I can deny you nothing, my lady.”

“Good. Now get on the bed.”

Harry grimaced but he did as she ordered, stretching on his side. His cock arced up, nearly touching his navel.

“Unhook me.”

She presented her back and felt his fingers as he undid her gown. When he reached the end, she walked out of his reach and turned. She let the bodice fall. She wasn’t wearing stays, and his eyes immediately dropped to her nipples, peaking the fabric of her shift. She placed her hands at her waist and wriggled the dress down.

He narrowed his eyes.

She sat on a chair and pulled off her garters and rolled down her stockings. Wearing only her shift, she walked to the bed. When she crawled on the bed beside him, Harry reached for her at once.

“No, this won’t do.” George frowned. “You can’t touch me.” She looked at the row of carved spindles on the bed’s headboard. “Hold those.”

He twisted to look and then lay down and grasped one spindle in each hand. With his arms over his head, the muscles in his upper arms and chest bunched.

George licked her bottom lip. “You can’t let go until I tell you.”

“As you wish,” he growled, sounding not at all submissive. He should’ve appeared weak in such a compromising position. Instead, he reminded her of a wild leopard captured and tethered. He lay there, eyeing her speculatively, a trace of a sneer on his lips.

Best not to get too close.

She ran a fingernail down his chest. “Perhaps I ought to tie your wrists to the bed.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“Just to be safe,” she reassured him sweetly.

“My lady,” he warned.

“Oh, never mind. But you must promise not to move.”

“On my honor, I will not let go of the bedposts until you permit me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

But it was close enough. She leaned over him and licked the tip of his penis.

“Jesus Christ.”

George lifted her head and frowned.

“You never said anything about talking,” Harry panted. “For God’s sake, do that again.”

“Maybe. If I feel inclined.” She inched nearer, ignoring his grumbled curse.

This time she lifted his cock aside and planted a series of tiny, wet kisses on his belly. She ended when she came to the dark, wiry hair above his erection. She opened her mouth and scraped her teeth against his skin.

“Shit.” Harry sucked in a breath.

His scent was pungent here. George nudged his legs apart and ran her fingers over his sac. She could feel the things that men called
stones
rolling about inside. Very, very carefully she squeezed.

“God
damn.
”

She smiled at his profanity. George grasped his cock between forefinger and thumb. She glanced up at Harry’s face.

He looked worried.

Good. Now, what if she . . .? George bent her head and licked the underside of his manhood. She tasted salt and skin and inhaled his aroma. She shifted her fingers and ran her tongue around the head, just where it began to swell out. Harry groaned. So she repeated the process and then thought to kiss the very tip where drops of seed welled.

“Put it in your mouth.” His voice was a deep rasp, dark and prayerful.

It excited her unbearably. She didn’t want to take his order. On the other hand . . . She opened her mouth over him. He was very big. Surely he didn’t mean the whole thing? She fit the head into her mouth, like a small peach. Except peaches were sweet and he was musky. Tasting of man.

“Suck me.”

She was startled. Really? She pursed her mouth and his hips came off the bed, startling her again.

“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.”