Claiming the Courtesan

She hid a gloating smile. His autocratic manner had cracked already. It hadn’t taken much effort on her part.

Without a word, she crossed the room and reclined on the red-and-blue Persian carpet in front of the unlit fire. She bent one knee in his direction and parted her legs slightly. He wouldn’t be able to resist the bold invitation.

Oh, what a wicked, wicked woman she was to taunt him. He really ought to punish her.

She closed her eyes and waited on a thrilling edge of suspense for him to come to her.

She didn’t have to wait long. The key clattered onto the table, and suddenly he was on his knees between her legs. He’d moved so fast that she hadn’t even heard him cross the room.

“You think I’m putty in your hands, don’t you?” he growled. He wasn’t touching her. But he would soon, she knew.

Verity pretended a yawn, knowing it would push him to the bounds of his control. How she loved teasing him like this. “Yes.”

He gave a rueful laugh. “And you’re right, damn you.”

Over his uneven breathing, she listened to the faint rustle of his clothing as he released the front of his breeches. She couldn’t mistake his eagerness. Her heart moved from a restless trot to a careening gallop that surely he must hear. She raised her other leg a fraction just so he knew she hadn’t finished tormenting him yet.

He roughly bunched her skirts and petticoats at her waist. Her excitement rose as the air flowed cool across her bare skin. She must look utterly depraved, lying before him in such abandonment. But she didn’t feel depraved, she felt free.

She let her legs fall open a little more. Even without opening her eyes, she felt the heated inspection he made of her. The room was silent, apart from the accelerating scratch of his breath.

He placed his hands on her knees and ruthlessly drew them wide apart. The heat of his palms through the thin silk of her stockings made her tremble with excitement.

With her eyes shut, all her other senses became more acute. She could smell his arousal and hear the unsteady rattle of his inhalations as he fought to contain himself. She shifted sinuously against the thick rug and waited for him to thrust into her. He must know she was ripe for his possession.

But he didn’t immediately take her as she’d expected him to do. Instead, his head nudged between her legs and his silky hair brushed against the sensitive skin of her thighs. She gave a start of surprise as the warmth of his breath touched her damp center. Then his mouth took her and she gave a low moan of rapture. He sucked and licked at her until she quivered beneath him.

He was a devil. He was her devil.

Her spine arched into a rigid curve as the tension inside her built to an unbearable pitch. He took a firm grip on her hips and shifted her so he could taste her more fully. As his tongue penetrated her, she shuddered in primitive response. But she wanted more.

“Please,” she begged raggedly, her fingers clenching and unclenching in his thick hair. She pressed herself closer, hovering on the brink. But still he played with her, forcing her higher and higher.

Then he drew hard on the source of her pleasure, and she screamed as a hundred suns exploded behind her eyes. Fire cascaded along her veins, and every muscle in her body spasmed with blinding delight.

The blazing peak seemed to last forever. She hung suspended in the splendor only he could create in her. He made her dance among the stars. How she adored him.

When the fiery joy had subsided into rippling aftershocks, she opened her eyes to find him watching her from between her splayed legs. She lay exposed, and enough of her girlhood self remained for her to slide one hand down to fiddle her skirts into modesty. Even that simple action tested her strength. She felt as though her bones had turned into wet muslin.

“We’re not finished yet,” he murmured, stopping her before she could cover herself.

“I don’t think I could move a muscle,” she protested.

It wasn’t true. Already, her interest stirred. Just because he looked at her as if she were a miracle sent down to him from heaven. Sometimes his sway over her frightened her.

“I think you could.” His lips curled in a smile of promise.

He hooked his arms around her and drew her upright so she knelt facing him when he sat back on his heels. She rested one hand on his chest. Her fingers tightened in his shirt as she felt his furious heartbeat beneath the fine white lawn. Then he lifted her over him until her dark green skirts settled around them, lending a spurious decorum to their profligacy.

But beneath that concealing material, she straddled him, open and ready for his entry. His erection pressed imperiously against the damp curls at the base of her belly, making her womb clench with a pang of desire.

She wanted all that heat and power. She wanted him inside her.

She grasped his sinewy shoulders with both hands and raised herself up and forward. His hold on her back tightened convulsively and she watched his eyes go opaque as she slowly slid down upon him. Even wet as she was, there was a moment’s delicious resistance before she took all of him. His breath escaped in a rasping sigh when she settled around him. She gave a mew of pleasure as she stretched to accommodate his size.

Their gazes met, mesh

ed, held. She read in his eyes that for now, he was willing to let her set the pace. A knowledge of her own power thrilled her as she established an undulating rhythm on him, almost withdrawing, then descending to accept him fully. Every thrust probed deep.