Yes, show me your passion, my beauty. Let it go. . . .
Her breath came harshly, her senses reeling. Her mind had fled to a hot dark place filled with sensation, yet her body remained surrounded by fire, centered around the captivating caress of his hand.Come for me, lover. Give in to the pleasure. Feel it. . . .
Suddenly she was writhing with frantic need, straining toward a mount
ing, burning frenzy. She sobbed, clutching mindlessly at him as the world seemed to explode. With a cry she surged against his hand, enveloped in a fountain of flames. His arm came around her to hold her trembling body in the aftershocks of rapture.
For an endless moment, while the flames receded and her body cooled, Ariane lay there limply, not wanting to believe she had engaged in such a wanton act, twisting and straining with need so intense she’d been mindless with it. She could feel Ranulf at her back, his body hard against hers, throbbing with its own male need. Her heavy eyelids lifting, she gradually became aware of the candlelight, of the faint gray ribbons of dawn slipping through the shutters.
She blinked in confusion, while her cheeks flamed. This was real—no dream—her senses screamed in awareness. Ranulf had aroused her from sleep and stroked her to ecstasy, without her knowledge or permission. He had taken control of her body, displaying his power over her.
Ariane felt a wave of despair wash over her. Ranulf had vowed to compel her submission, and this was his proof. Perhaps he had stopped short of forcing her, but he had seduced her—and shown her more pleasure than she had ever dreamed possible.
Sweet Jesu, what was she to do? She could feel the hunger in his big, powerful body, feel the throbbing heat of desire in the swollen shaft pressed against her buttocks.
With a gentle tug on her shoulder, Ranulf eased her onto her back. He saw how she kept her eyes shut, refusing to look at him, and a smile of primitive satisfaction curved his mouth. Her body had surrendered, overwhelmed by blind desire; he had won that victory at least.
His seduction had not been totally honorable, perhaps, for he had waited till she slept, till her defenses were lowered. Yet he had given Ariane precisely what she wanted, what her eager body had cried out for. What his own cried out for now.
Throbbing with the primal need to mount the hot, aroused woman in his arms, Ranulf slowly drew down the bedclothes, exposing that beautiful, slender form to his view, taking in her dishabille. Her chemise had ridden up over her hips and the thatch of red-gold curls at the juncture of her pale thighs drew his hot gaze. He bent over that sweet portal, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drank in the enticing scent of her. He wanted nothing more than to settle his body over hers and plunge into her, claiming the honeyed treasure there, but he would have to take his pleasure in less conventional ways.
“Beautiful . . .” he murmured hoarsely. “Open for me again, sweeting. Let me savor you . . . give you another taste of ecstasy. Let me fill you . . .”
Lowering his head, his mouth pursed, he gently kissed the dewy cleft between her thighs, his tongue flicking out to stroke the hidden bud.
Ariane had lain tense and rigid beneath his burning scrutiny, but at his scandalous action, she gave a startled yelp and clutched at his hair, gripping hard. When he lifted his head, their eyes locked, hers panicked, his hot and bright.
“No . . . you cannot. . . .”
“I can, demoiselle.” The raw, husky sound stroked her sensitive nerve endings.
“No . . . please . . . I beg you. . . .”
He smiled indulgently as she caught the bold hand that had strayed to cover her thigh. “You may beg me all you like.”
“No!Ranulf!”
Realizing her genuine shock, Ranulf abandoned his attempt to show Ariane another means of enjoying pleasure. His eyes smoldered as his hand turned to capture her wrist. “Then you touch me. Feel how hard, how aroused you make me.”
Deliberately he drew her palm against his flat, hard-muscled belly, pressing her fingers against his throbbing member. She could feel him in her hand, hot and huge and pulsing. Ranulf grimaced in pure pleasure, while Ariane’s eyes widened in alarm.
“No!” Again she tried unsuccessfully to pull from his grasp. “ ’Tis sinful!” she exclaimed, clutching at any excuse that might save her.
His expression sobered. “You would deny me after I pleasured you?”
“Yes!” Oh, what would make him cease? “It is unholy, against Church law.”
When she succeeded in wrenching her hand away, Ranulf’s jaw hardened in sexual frustration. He wanted Ariane sweet and willing, not panicked and trembling like a frightened rabbit. He could not stroke himself, either, not without rousing her disgust. But his self-denial only left him aching carnally and his raw temper ready to explode—an explosion he resolved to control.
He had won a victory of sorts, he reminded himself. Ariane had found ecstasy in his touch. But while he felt a savage gratification knowing that he could affect her so, he would not rest until she surrendered fully.
“I doubt you fear opposing the Church as much as you fear the pleasure I make you feel,” Ranulf murmured wryly, with a casualness he did not feel.
Ariane averted her face, realizing the truth of his accusation. She had proved an easy conquest. Ranulf had not boasted in the slightest when he warned her that women found pleasure in his arms, but his seduction had been effortless. She was mortified by her response to his wicked caresses, her wanton surrender. She had not put up the least resistance. She hadwanted him to touch her, to make love to her. She wanted him as lover and husband and lord.
Her heart ached with the knowledge. She would not have protested even his most scandalous caresses had they been given in love, had Ranulf cared the slightest for her. But he considered her his enemy, and this was his method of punishment, of proving his power over her. Yet even more than her capitulation, her own wantonness roused her despair. Ranulf might not have taken her maidenhead, but he had ruined her for any other man—and she hadenjoyed her ruination.
Ariane closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear.