Author: Sabrina Jeffries To Pleasure a Prince (Royal Brotherhood, Book 2). Read more The prince of pleasure. Read more. To Pleasure a Prince book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. Bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries pens the sizzling story o. Read To Pleasure a Prince by Sabrina Jeffries for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android.

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Bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries pens the sizzling story of one of three half- noble half brothers, who makes a most unwelcome entrance into society and a. Paperback Editions; Join Kobo & start eReading today; To Pleasure a Prince ( Royal Brotherhood, book 2) by Sabrina Jeffries; To Pleasure a Prince. There was a. with a prince royal brotherhood book 3 sabrina jeffries on sitecom free shipping on [[pdf download]] the prince of pleasure the wilde.

Prove that you can please a woman. Somewhere in the dim recesses of his fevered brain, he realized she meant a different sort of pleasing than he did—compliments and courtesies and gentlemanly behavior. She jerked back, her eyes wide. Alarm flickered in her eyes.

What would you do to stop me? He only wanted to kiss her again. She made a token resistance at first, pushing feebly against his chest. That left him free to really kiss her, to linger over her mouth, driven by the impulse to prove her wrong about him, to make her acknowledge him as something more than a loutish beast.

Sabrina Jeffries

He wanted to eat her up, get inside of her, figure out why she drove him insane with just a look. God help him. Instead, her lips were warm and trembling, her body fluid in his arms and growing more so by the moment. When she actually clutched at his coat lapels, triumph surged through him. He drew back to stare at her smugly.

To Pleasure a Prince

Except that this time he dared to deepen it, thrusting his tongue against her parted lips until he gained entry to the heady warmth of her mouth. He merely took advantage of the fact that she was, relishing the heartfelt moan she made in response to his bold forays. She lifted her dainty arms to encircle his neck, and that emboldened him further, until he was plundering her soft lips over and over, drinking in every richly perfumed breath.

After all, how many chances did a man have to taste the elusive La Belle Dame? To bury himself in the hot silk of her mouth and stroke the eloquent contours of her waist and hips with his greedy hands? Not until he had her reeling, boneless and limp in his arms, did he tear his mouth from hers. But when he traced it with his tongue, she gasped. There was nothing for it but to kiss her again.

Pressing her back against the bookshelves, he ravished her mouth the way he wanted to ravish her body, until the taste of her so filled his senses that he actually began to contemplate lifting her skirts and— The sound of applause outside the library broke through his fever. But only when she pushed against his chest did he stop kissing her. Someone might find us here.

They stood frozen a moment, both staring, both painfully aware of their intimate position, yet neither moving to change it. Until she ran one finger along his scar.

Curiosity glinted in her eyes, but something in his face must have warned her not to ask, for she merely changed the direction of her exploration, slipping her fingers down to caress his jaw. I expected it to be prickly. He bent his head to nibble her earlobe. Iversley stepped inside, then froze. His gaze swung from Marcus to Regina. When Regina faced Iversley, that reserved mask she generally wore had already slipped down over her face, banishing the tenderness of a few minutes before.

Marcus wanted to howl his frustration. But with his blood still in wild riot, he reacted to her calmness as if it were an assault. Anger flared in her eyes, and she slapped him. Then she fled. As soon as she was gone, Iversley shut the door. For an elegant female, her ladyship had quite a swing. And quite a little temper. Until he added with a sneer, Your sort never does.

She bristled. Tired of craning her neck up at this obnoxious creature, she approached the stair that led up to the gallery. And what sort is that? A wealthy lady of rank moving in the highest circles of society. She began to mount the little stairs. Your sister is a wealthy lady of rank moving in the highest circles of society. He scowled at her. I want a better life for her than that of a society chit. He swept her with a contemptuous gaze.

The sort who spends her days dithering over what color ball gown to wear. She stepped onto the gallery and walked toward him. Then she can spend her days listening to him rebuff all her visitors.

His lordship shot her a scalding look. A pity those eyes presently burned a hole through her skull. Better that than spend it catering to Prinny and his ilk, he said. The light dawned. Oh, I see. You object to Simon because of his friendship with His Highness. His frown disappeared, only to be replaced by a suspicious crinkling at the corners of his gorgeous eyes. You do realize you just called me a bastard.

I did not! And since you were clearly not referring to him. Clever gentlemen were such a bother. He settled his hand on the gallery rail. But then, we both know how thin is the facade of manners that your sort put so much stock in. If you want to force Simon and Louisa to sneak around behind your back, then fine by me. I shall simply tell my brother to go right ahead setting up their secret meetings— Stop!

She halted near the stairs, a smile playing over her face.

He came up behind her. What the devil are you babbling about?

She continued toward the stairs slowly—very slowly. Fighting a smile, she removed his hand from her arm. Are you sure you can spare the time?

See a Problem?

He marched forward, forcing her to back down the stairs. Because if you think some paltry trick will gain you my attention— Trick? He swore under his breath. Take that, you big lout. She stumbled and was about to tumble backwards to the floor when his lordship snagged her about the waist. For a moment they stood frozen, with only his broad arm beneath her back preventing her from falling.

Thank God he was strong. And surprisingly clean, for all his mismatched stockings and rough looks. A heady scent of bay rum and soap wafted through her senses, making her wonder if he were not quite the oaf he seemed. Then his eyes dropped to where her pelisse had fallen open to reveal her low-cut bodice, and his gaze lodged there as if stuck.

But for some reason, his staring unsettled her. He looked as if he wanted to devour them. As her breasts pinkened beneath his gaze, she opened her mouth to rebuke him, then noticed the edge of the scar that crawled above his beard and onto his cheek.

His heavy beard covered most of it, but the part that showed looked rather nasty. He lifted his eyes to her face. Catching where her gaze was fixed, he scowled. Watch your step, madam. His thinly veiled threat sent a shiver along her spine. And what had he done to gain such an awful scar anyway?

She shuddered to think. Shifting her in his arms, he lifted her as if she weighed less than nothing and set her firmly on the floor two steps below, then descended to loom over her. His low rumble of a voice sparked a peculiar quivering in her belly. Now she must figure out what to do with him.

Chapter Two Never trust a young man, whether he be a poor mister or a titled and wealthy gentleman, alone with your charge. It was impossible. To have her settled on his lap, where he could touch and squeeze and plunder every honey-perfumed, muslin-draped inch. He scowled. As if a haughty female like her would let him within ten feet. And dash his brains out on the rocks. But this virgin was braver than most.

Not many society misses would storm right into his study without an introduction, especially given the gossip about him. And the woman was sophisticated enough that society had dubbed her La Belle Dame Sans Merci —the woman without mercy—after that poem by Chaucer about a heartless beauty.

Marcus had best remember that. She was what poets meant when they spoke of dying for love. She was trouble. Boldly she faced him. God help him, why must she be a blonde, too, his particular weakness? The gilt curls peeking out from beneath her feather-adorned hat practically begged to be stroked and fondled and— A pox on her and her fancy kind. She regarded him with cool composure.

Your sister and my brother are determined to see each other. Which is why she would never behave so recklessly. Lady Regina stared him down. Alarm seized him.


You talked to Louisa about this? Her gray eyes hardened to steel. That was the trouble. He would not have it! He laughed bitterly. Strange sentiments coming from you, madam. She cocked her head, setting her ostrich feather aquiver. What do you mean? I know of you.

Two spots of color stained her pretty cheeks. I could say the same for the gossip about you. What do they say about me these days? He waited for her to hem and haw—no one in society ever gossiped about a man to his face. She skewered him with a sugared dagger of a smile.

That you have secrets too dark to speak aloud, and that you will do anything to keep them. He snorted.He marched forward, forcing her to back down the stairs. With leisurely care, he thrust, probed, caressed…made love to her mouth.

And he was huge. If I had to choose between the three novels in the series, Draker, in To Pleasure a Prince, was my favorite hero.

Boldly she faced him. Perhaps the best thing Jeffries has ever written. Cheeks pleasingly flushed from their drive, check.