The Seduction (Notorious 1)

He came to her magnificently naked, magnificently aroused. Joining her on the satin sheets, he eased the ivory shaft from between her thighs.

“Would you prefer the real thing, my sweet?” he murmured huskily, covering her body with his own. “Would you?”

“Yes,” she rasped, impatient with his delay. She knew he could see how swollen she was, how sleek and ready. She felt the pulsing crest of his manhood probe for entrance, and she moaned, wildly eager to receive him.

His gaze plunged deeper into hers as her pliant flesh stretched at his slow thrust. His faint smile and glittering eyes were as triumphant and possessive as his body. He sank hilt-deep, and she knew she was lost. Her body clenched as wave after wave of shuddering tremors rippled over her, and she gave in to burgeoning ecstasy.

Damien managed only slightly more control. He’d spoken the truth earlier. With Vanessa he didn’t need games or sexual instruments to feel desire. He never had. With her he felt a brilliant, heated glory of wanting. She was a fever in his blood, a yearning in his soul.

He’d told himself he wanted to be free of her, free of his insanity for this beautiful woman, but that was a lie. He wanted to brand her as his possession, to mark her as his own. His strongest urge was the primitive need to bind her to him now, this moment.

He took her with hammering wildness, surging upward, each plunging stroke merciless, uncurbed. He would make her remember him, remember the hurtling sense of pleasure, the fierce rapture, so that she could never lie beneath any man without thinking of him, only him…

Her legs locked around him, drawing him even deeper. His breath came in harsh, rapid gasps as he plunged over and over again, but she arched and shuddered and matched his every stroke. When she cried out in another climax, he felt her joy and gritted his teeth, letting the madness take him. His body contracted as savage, unrestrained bliss exploded within him, and with one final thrust, he collapsed upon her, shaking.

For a long time afterward they lay unmoving, spent in the aftermath of passion, his chest crushing her breasts, their skin sheened with moisture.

Damien’s thudding heartbeat was beginning to slow when he heard a muffled sound that might have been a sob. Startled, he raised his head. Vanessa’s eyes were shut, but tears glistened on her flushed face.

His heart contracted. “Did I hurt you?”

For a moment she didn’t reply. Damien eased his weight off her, feeling as much bewilderment as alarm. His love-making this time had been fierce, yet no more violent than in the past.

“Vanessa?”

He could see her swallow as she made a visible effort to stem the flow of tears. She couldn’t wipe her eyes because of her bound arms.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded, reaching to untie the silken scarf at her wrist.

Her eyes opened, while her chin lifted as if with determination.

“Not at all,” she replied tonelessly, but the hurt in her luminous eyes belied her words.

Chapter Sixteen

Vanessa stared blindly out the window of Damien’s traveling carriage as they sped steadily north from London, the wet, gray day mirroring her spirits.

She had lied last night. Damien had indeed hurt her. Not physically, of course. On the contrary, he’d given her body pleasure as great as any she’d known.

It was her heart he had shattered without even being aware of it. His cold, casual experiment in carnal gratification at Madame Fouchet’s had reminded Vanessa of how foolish she was to dream about impossibilities. She wanted his love, while he wanted only her body.

Strangely Damien hadn’t appeared to enjoy the visit to the brothel any more than she had. Instead, he’d seemed dangerously angry when he escorted her home last night, whether at her or himself she couldn’t tell. His brusque announcement had startled her.

“I should like to return to Rosewood tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So soon? ”

“It is a few days early, I realize, but I should think you’ve seen enough of the demimonde by now. And I doubt there is much more I can teach you.”

Truthfully Vanessa had seen enough of the depraved side of London to last her a lifetime. Far from being disappointed, she was actually relieved to be leaving. Damien’s decadent world of luxury and license held little appeal for her, especially since the man she had fallen for so hopelessly seemed to have vanished. During their entire time in town she’d seen no evidence of the tender lover and friend she’d initially glimpsed at Rosewood. There was only the wicked rakehell known as Lord Sin.

A sadness swept over her, so intense it made her ache. Had she only imagined the intimate, caring part of him that he kept hidden from much of the world?

Beside her on the carriage seat, Damien was absorbed by his own brooding thoughts as his conscience soundly flayed him.

It had been a mistake to expose Vanessa to Fouchet’s brothel last night. He’d seen her shock and disillusionment reflected in the dark luster of her eyes. Disillusionment with him.

Damien winced inwardly. Vanessa must have known the sort of life he led; certainly he’d never attempted to hide it from her. But the reality clearly was more unsettling than she’d expected, the entertainment far more salacious. If she’d thought him debauched and dissolute before, she now had irrefutable proof.