Breathless (The House of Rohan 3)

His hand slid beneath the gown to touch her belly, holding her still as she twisted against him, trying to get more of him. A thousand different curses came to mind, the angry, violent things she wanted to rain down on his head, but his hand splayed out across her belly, long, warm fingers, and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Please,” she gasped out, and she heard his damnable chuckle. But then it didn’t matter, for his mouth latched onto her other breast, and her back arched as he drew her into his mouth, his tongue dancing across the pebbled nub, as he sucked at her, hard. His fingers slid lower, and she felt a tiny explosion rocket through her, making her jerk against his restraining hand.

She fell back, panting, confused, dizzy. He was pulling her gown completely off, but she no longer cared. She could barely move, but she could see him quite well.

“My, you are responsive, my pet…. Now what do you think you might like next? I have all sorts of interesting ideas. ”

She was managing to focus again, and she looked up at him dazedly. He was slowly unfastening his cravat, and he looked at the length of silk for a long, contemplative moment, and that dangerous smile curved his lips.

“We’ll leave this for later, shall we?” he murmured, carefully draping it around the bedpost. He leaned back, that animal smile dancing around his mouth. In the darkness the scarring on his face was invisible, and she found she missed it. It was part of him, nothing she needed to hide from, and she wanted to reach her fingers up to touch the hardened furrows across his cheek. She didn’t. “You really have extraordinary breasts, and I would happily suckle you all night long, but I’m afraid I’m getting too needy for the business at hand. It’s surprising how little self-control I have right no

w. Perhaps revenge is an aphrodisiac. ”

Her eyes flew open. She’d forgotten. Forgotten this was simply an act of revenge, not of choice on his part.

And the damnable thing was, it didn’t matter. His hand was on her stomach, moving lower, stroking lower, and she felt his fingers touch her triangle of hair, and she tried to clamp her legs together, embarrassed.

“It doesn’t work that way, Miranda. Don’t you remember?” he said softly. “Spread your legs for me or I’ll make you. ”

She found her voice. “You said you wouldn’t force me. ”

“I lied. At this point I’d do anything to take you. ”

“Including rape?”

He was unmoved. “Precious, I just made you climax simply by sucking on your breasts. It won’t be rape. ” His fingers moved lower, touching her intimately, and she felt another lightning-like shimmer of reaction. “Will it, my love?”

In answer she spread her legs, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t see his triumphant smile.

18

Lucien knew exactly what he should do. She was lying in front of him, legs spread for him, acquiescent … no, more than acquiescent. Wanting. He’d made her come, so simply it astonished him.

He should walk away. He should get up from the bed and walk away, for a thousand reasons, not the least of which was how much he wanted her. So much that it made him vulnerable, and he despised being vulnerable. He had no illusions that once he took her it would be enough. Once he took her he would want more, and more.

Oh, eventually he would tire of her. He tired of everything, truly cared about nothing. But before that happened he would be driven by a need for her, and he hated that.

And indeed, walking away would be perfect. He would leave her trembling on the brink of total sexual surrender, and her physical frustration would shake her badly. She would have offered herself, and he could reject her, mirroring the pain that had driven his half sister to kill herself. He could walk away …

She’d opened her eyes again, looking at him through the dim shadows, almost as if she’d read his mind. She knew him too well, which was part of what drew him to her. She could anticipate his moves, and counter them.

Author: Anne Stuart

A faint smile curved her mouth, the mouth he needed to feel on his body. Her pale body lay spread out in front of him, and this time she made no maidenly move to cover herself. “Have you changed your mind, my lord? What a shame. Could you retrieve my covers on your way out—I’m a bit chilled. ” Her voice was calm, cheerful, unmoved, and mentally he saluted her. She’d recovered from what was undoubtedly the first climax of her life with resolute aplomb and was ready to battle again.

And he could no more walk away than he could stop breathing.

He slid his hand over the sweet mound, letting his fingers dance against her clitoris, and she arched in reaction. She was hot and damp and ready for him, and he slid one long finger inside her, testing her.

She was tight, very tight. Why wouldn’t she be—it had been two years since she’d made love. He pulled out the one finger and pushed two inside, and she made a faint sound of discomfort, quickly swallowed. She didn’t want him to know anything about her reactions, and he knew she would say nothing more. It was up to him to read her body. Fortunately he was an expert at just that.

He moved over her, and for a moment she tried to sit up, to push him away, and then she remembered and laid back, the perfect nonvirgin sacrifice to the monster.

He released himself, simply because it was getting too painful. He could smell the faint scent of her arousal, and he wanted to bury himself inside her, thrust until he reached his own satisfaction. He needn’t bother with withdrawal, or French letters, or any form of protection. He could spend himself inside her, endlessly.

But if he took her now he would most likely tear her, or at the very least bring her discomfort. He had to put off his own release for just a few minutes longer.

He withdrew his fingers, putting his hands on her waist, pulling her down on the bed as he knelt between her legs, and he could see by her shallow breathing that she was frightened, no matter how much she wanted to hide it. St. John had really botched things to an extraordinary extent, but Lucien found he could be glad of it. There was something aphrodisiacal about making a frightened woman climax, and he slid his hands over her lovely hips, down her thighs, pulling them further apart. And then he put his mouth on her.