Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

The order was not so difficult to obey. Gabriel grinned and shrugged and lay back, closing his eyes, and after a moment he felt her fingers trailing over his skin once more, down over his ribs to his stomach, and then lower to the fastenings of his trousers. Despite himself he shifted uncomfortably, his member so engorged it was a wonder it didn’t shred the cloth in its eagerness to escape.

“Ah, my highwayman,” she mocked, “can it be you wish for my touch? Here?” Her hand glided over the bulge in his trousers. She drew back with a gasp, pretending to be shocked. “Oh my, how big you are. All the better to…” She didn’t finish the sentence, smiling instead.

“Antoinette,” he groaned, his body on fire. She was torturing him, and by the expression on her face she was enjoying it.

“What? Don’t you like what I’m doing?” she said, widening her eyes in pretended surprise. “Should I stop?”

“You know I don’t mean that,” he growled.

“Then hush and let me get on with it.”

And she was touching him again, slowly tracing the shape of him, leaning over him as if she was making a study, her lips parted, her braid dangling against the naked skin of his stomach and tickling him.

He bore her torture as best he could, but when she circled her hand about his length and gently squeezed, it was too much. Gabriel cried out, arching up from the floor. “Put me out of my misery, Antoinette, I’m begging you.”

Startled, she turned from her inspection and looked into his face. There was something so dreamy about her expression, and her lips were reddened and parted. He wanted to drag her down and kiss her senseless. But then her face hardened and her eyes narrowed and she laughed. “So the boot is on the other foot now, isn’t it?”

“Hardly the same…” he protested breathlessly.

She smiled and began to undo the buttons. “Oh yes, it is the same. Do you want me to stop and walk away, just as you do?”

“You know I don’t,” he groaned.

Her smile broadened as she opened another button and then she hesitated, almost as if she was afraid or she hadn’t seen a naked man before. Which, Gabriel told himself, was plainly ridiculous. Or was there something here he was missing? The next moment her hand slipped inside his trousers and closed over his bare flesh, and he was no longer capable of thought at all.

Antoinette was proud of her boldness. The books she’d read had shown her things, explained things, but she was still an innocent playing at being a demimondaine. And it was so different from what she’d expected. The pictures were flat and cold, but this was close and intimate. He was warm and alive and so…well, beautiful. Who would have thought a man could be beautiful? But his body was young and strong and healthy, and he seemed like a creature from a fairy tale rather than simply a man.

The fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him was far more exciting than she could have imagined. The more she touched and caressed him, the hotter grew her own desire. The thought of making love with him, their bodies entangled, giving and taking pleasure…She’d seen in those books how it could be between a woman and a man, and far from being shocked and disgusted, as no doubt a proper and genteel young lady should have been, she was intrigued and eager to take part.

Her hands began to tremble and her breath to quicken. She was on a knife edge, and at any moment she would lose her balance and her control over this dangerous situation.

“Tell me quickly,” she said desperately.

“Tell you what?” he croaked, gasping, his chest gleaming with sweat.

“Who you are, why you want the letter, where you will take it?” she answered him with sharp impatience.

He opened his mouth and she leaned forward, waiting breathlessly. And waited. He closed it again. He shook his head, his jaw clenched, his eyes squeezed tight shut.

Torture. Agony. And yet with the promise of such ple

asure as he had never had before. Gabriel waited for her to do her worst…or her best.

With a deep sigh, Antoinette laid her cheek upon his stomach, and he felt her breath on his member, cooling his heated and sensitive skin. He groaned softly, wondering if he could get any harder, and knew it was unlikely.

All he needed to do to put a stop to this was tell her what she wanted to know.

But if he gave her the information she wanted, he’d never get the letter, he thought bleakly. She’d pass the information on to Appleby, and next thing he’d be arrested and charged, or forced to leave the country, and his hope of recovering Wexmoor Manor would be gone.

Gabriel swallowed hard. She was touching him with her tongue, delicate little licks, like a cat. He rolled his head to the side. Watching her made it worse. Her mouth closed over the tip, enveloping him, and Gabriel knew he couldn’t hold out any longer.

Tell her, tell her, tell her… His feverish brain was on fire.

But instead of telling her, he reached out and caught hold her. He swung her around, lifting her easily, and planted her directly on top of his aching body, just where he needed her most. She gasped, reaching out to steady herself, her hands slipping on his damp chest, her knees striking the carpet on either side of his hips. He looked up into her face and saw her eyes widen at the sensation of him against her aching body, slick flesh against slick flesh, naked skin against naked skin.

Ecstasy.

Involuntarily, Gabriel thrust upward against her, and felt a good half inch of his member nudge inside her. Oh yes, this was what he wanted. No more games, no more winners and losers. Just pleasure, pure and simple.