A Rake's Vow (Cynster 2)

He lifted her and laid her on the sheets, and followed her down. She welcomed him to her, took him into her body with joyous abandon.

And this time, there was no holding back, no reticence, no control, no vestige of rational thought. Passion and desire bloomed, then ran riot. They were one-in mind, in thought, in deed. Pleasure for one was the other's delight. They gave themselves, again and again, and still found more to give.

And over and between ran the shimmering glory, stronger than steel and more precious than pearls.

When they crested the final wave, and clung to each other as the maelstrom took them, it intensified and filled them. Until all existence became that wondrous glow; as they drifted, deeply sated, into dreamless sleep, it settled over them.

A blessing-the most desired of benedictions.

What followed was entirely Myst's fault.

Vane woke, as he had once before, to discover the small cat once again curled on his chest, purring furiously. Sleepily sated, he scratched one grey ear while waiting for his senses to refocus. His limbs were heavy with deep satiation-a drugging glow still filled him. He glanced toward the window. The sky had started to lighten.

He and Patience needed to talk.

Vane lifted his hand from Myst's ear.

The cat promptly flexed her claws.

Vane hissed-and glared. "Your claws are more lethal than your mistress's."

"Hmm?" Heavy-eyed, Patience emerged from beneath the sheets.

Vane waved at Myst. "I was about to ask if you'd consider removing your resident predator."

Patience stared at him, then blinked, and looked down. "Oh. Myst." Fighting free of the tangled sheets, she leaned over and scooped Myst up. "Off, Myst. Come on." Wriggling, Patience slid fully across Vane-her hips slid over his-as Vane sucked in an agonized breath.

Patience grinned, and dropped Myst over the side of the bed. "Off you go." She watched the cat stalk off, offended, then, entirely deliberately, wriggled back across Vane.

And stopped halfway.

"Hmm." Finding her lips level with one flat nipple, she stuck out her tongue and licked. The jolt that shook him made her smile. "Interesting."

She uttered the word as she wriggled some more, so her torso was more or less atop him, her legs sliding over his.

Vane frowned. "Patience…"

Warm flesh encased in smooth satin slithered over his hips, over the rigid length of his erection. Vane blinked, several times, and tried to recall what he'd been about to say.

"Hmm?"

Patience's tone suggested she had other things on her mind: She was busily trailing warm, openmouthed kisses down hi

s increasingly tense torso.

Jaw setting, Vane gathered his resolve-and reached for her. "Patience, we need to-" A groan cut off his words-he was almost surprised to recognize it as his. Muscle after muscle tensed and locked. Lust roared through him-in response to her artless, inquisitive touch, to the husky chuckle she gave. Soft fingers trailed up his rigid length, then slid about him and tentatively closed. She traced and caressed, then explored further, squirming downward as she did-clearly delighted by his helpless reaction.

Rigid to his toes, Vane jerked as she circled his sensitive, swollen head. "Good God, woman! What…?" His voice suspended as she reached further still, and closed her hand. Vane groaned, and closed his eyes. The inside of his lids burned with raging lust.

He dragged in a desperate breath, and reached down, fighting through the tangled sheets to try to capture her hand. She chuckled again and eluded him easily; he slumped back, breathing too fast. His limbs had turned heavy, weighted with lust, burning with desire.

"Don't you like it?" The teasing question, clearly rhetorical, floated up from under the sheets. Then she squirmed again. "Perhaps you'd like this better."

Vane did, but he wasn't about to say so. Gritting his teeth, he suffered the hot, wet sweep of her tongue, the gentle caress of her lips. She didn't have the faintest idea what she was doing-thank God. What she was doing was bad enough. If expertise was added to the equation, he'd be dead.

He tried to remind himself that the experience was hardly new to him-the rationalization didn't work. He couldn't distance himself from Patience's touch, couldn't imagine she was some faceless lady with whom he was sharing a bed. No logic seemed strong enough to quench or control the fire she was igniting.

He heard himself gasp. He licked lips suddenly dry. "Where the devil did you get the idea…?"