Between the Devil and Desire(Scoundrels of St. James,Book 2)(80) by Lorraine Heath
He glided his hand down her side, over her hip, around her thigh, and he urged her to open herself more fully.
Then she felt him pushing into her, inch by delicious inch, the fullness of him stretching her further, increasing the pleasure tightening low in her belly. When she thought she could take no more, he lifted her hips slightly, shifted his weight, and buried himself completely into her, bowing her back with the exquisite sensation of feeling his weight pressing against her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
Threading his fingers through hers, he moved her hands so they rested on either side of her head while he rode her unmercifully, mercifully. Her body sang to his tune, pleasures rippling through her, increasing in intensity as his powerful thrusts moved not only her, but the bed.
His groans echoed around her, harsh, yet satisfying, and she heard her answering moans. The pleasure became almost unbearable. She wanted to close her eyes, but he was so beautiful, so magnificent to watch, his jaw clenched, his smoldering gaze locked onto hers. She’d never before felt this connection with anyone—that wherever they went they went together.
He was a devil, tempting her, demanding with every stroke of his body against hers that she surrender. And surrender she did, not only her body, but her heart and her soul.
He cried out, his thrusts going deeper, so deep that she wondered how she’d survive—
Then the cataclysm hit, her body tightening around him even as she arched beneath him, catapulting her into never-imagined pleasure. She had no choice except to close her eyes as the sensations rocked her. Her last thought as she shot into oblivion was that she’d vastly underestimated the benefits of being with a man whose life was devoted to carnal intrigue.
Raised up on an elbow, stretched out alongside Livy, Jack fought not to think about what had just happened. He’d never in his life experienced anything so intense, so gratifying. Even their encounter in the garden, for all its splendor, paled when compared to the reality of taking her in his bed. Watching her as she peaked, with lamplight flickering, had served to enhance his own pleasure.
He didn’t fool himself regarding what had transpired here. She might want him for a bit of sport, but she was nobility, while he was gutter trash. They would never have more than this. And with that thought came an unexpected sharp pain in the center of his chest.
Never before had he felt so much a part of something, of someone. It terrified him to feel this closeness, he who’d always worked so hard to maintain his distance. She’d effectively knocked down his walls. If he thought about it too hard or too long, he’d gather up his clothes and leave, never to return.
If he cared for her as much as he suspected he did, that’s exactly what he’d do. Leave, now that he’d had a taste of her, and do all in his power to find her a proper husband. Instead he recklessly trailed his finger between her small breasts, gathering up the dew that lingered there, and said, “You’re not going to sleep, are you?”
Slowly she rolled her head from side to side where it rested on the pillow. “You’re very good at this.”
He laughed softly, taking his fingers across her shoulders from one side to the other. He thought he’d never get enough of just touching her. “It appears, based on your body’s responses, I invested my money wisely.”
She furrowed her brow. “You pay for it?”
“Always.” He shrugged. “Except for tonight.”
“Why I did before? Or why I didn’t tonight?”
How to explain without sounding callous. “Because I wanted no emotional entanglements. It was always business. Some business ventures are more enjoyable than others.” And some rewards were intangible.
“Have you been in this bed before?” He didn’t know why he asked or why the answer mattered.
“Only once, when you brought me.” With her hand, she cradled his cheek. Covering her hand with his, he turned his face into her palm and kissed it.
She rolled into him. Reaching down, he whipped back the sheet gathered at her waist. She kicked it down farther, until nothing separated them, until their naked bodies were pressed together.
“I’m sure it’s in bad form to talk of another man, but I want—I need—you to know that it was never like this with him.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply kissed her palm again, then her fingers.
“It was so very impersonal, which always struck me as odd for such a personal act. And I never, I never realized that I should actually enjoy it. You are really quite remarkable, Jack Dodger.”
Again, he was left with nothing to say. He dipped his head and took her mouth as he intended to take her body, with a bit more patience this time, a more leisurely pursuit of pleasure.
Her hand stroked his chest, almost tentatively, as though she thought he might break. He drew back and studied her. The wonder was still there, a wonder he’d never known because it had been stripped of him at an early age.
“As tonight appears to be a rather new experience for you, you should know that I will not break and that there is no part of me that you are not welcome to explore.”
Her gaze traveled the length of his body, her cheeks turning a rosy hue. Her hand glided down, wrapped around him, and he couldn’t stop the low moan of satisfaction.
He kissed her, rolling onto his back as he did so, giving her easier access to learn the various textures of his body.
With each passing moment, her hands became less tentative as her confidence grew. She touched, she stroked. She broke off the kiss to rain smaller kisses over his chest. She flicked her tongue over his hardened nipple, and his body jerked. He rammed his hands through her hair, holding her close, encouraging her with sweet words and low moans.
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