Lessons in Seduction (Greentree Sisters 1)

“I find I am suddenly shy,” she said stiffly. “Silly, I know, after what we have just done.”

He didn’t laugh, although he bit his lip. Vivianna gave him a narrowed look, and he appeared contrite. “I’m sorry. You’re so beautiful, so exactly perfect, I didn’t think you could be shy.” His hands reached to encircle her waist, then cupped the rounded cheeks of her bottom. “All perfect,” he murmured, and pressed his body against hers. Vivianna could feel him jutting against her belly, hard and erect, and she knew he wanted her, and the thought of it brought a hot flood of sensation to her own body, chasing away the doubts.

His hands were cupping her breasts now, squeezing gently, molding the flesh to his palms. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, and kissed the curve of her shoulder where it joined her neck. Vivianna tilted her head and shivered, and then groaned as he tugged at her nipples. One of his hands stroked downward, over the swell of her belly and down, down to the soft curls between her thighs.

“Oh yes,” he growled softly, and stroked her there boldly through the silken cloth of the chemise. “Perfect.”

Vivianna groaned, arching her back, opening her legs for him.

Her head was spinning, and it was a moment before she realized it was, because he had lifted her up in his arms and was carrying her toward the bed. An opulent piece of furniture, the bed was a four-poster with draperies in the deepest cherry red and a thick, soft quilt of the same color. A mountain of pillows and bolsters were piled at the head. Oliver swung her over the mattress and lay her down, and before she could even move a muscle, he had captured the hem of her chemise and stripped her of her final piece of clothing.

She lay naked, sprawled before him.

But instead of joining her, he stood over her, his gaze moving, caressing her, heating her flesh. The way he stared should have intimidated her, but it didn’t. There was so much admiration and desire in his dark eyes, she felt beautiful and seductive. He had made her the woman she wanted to be, and now as he looked upon her, Vivianna stretched voluptuously, thrusting up her breasts, arching her back.

“Oh yes,” he drawled, “I like it when you do that. I like it very much.” There was no disguising the hot need in his face as he began to undress. He pulled off his jacket and then his white shirt, tossing them both on the floor. Then he unbuttoned his trousers and stripped them down over his strong legs, until he stood as naked as she.

Vivianna ogled him. She couldn’t help it. She had never seen a naked man before. The sight of him caught in her chest, made her senses swim. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his chest was hard-muscled and dark-haired. His belly was flatter than hers and his hips leaner, and his thighs strong and firm, and between them rose the part of him she had stroked and petted in the darkness of the coach.

Vivianna shivered, and suddenly the air in the room seemed heavier, hotter. Oliver came and stood at the edge of the bed and clasped her knees, opening her legs wide and drawing her toward him. She thought of struggling, but he was gazing upon her most intimate places with such a fierce, hungry look that she was shaken. He stooped and covered her with his mouth.

“Oliver!” she wailed. The pleasure was intense, and suddenly she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to stop the rippling, pounding climax that was about to take over her.

When she came back to herself, he had pulled her over to the side of the bed so that her legs dangled down. It was a very high bed, exactly the right height so that when he lifted

her hips and moved between her thighs, he was able to slide his cock into her.

Vivianna gasped. She wanted to look away, but there was something completely and utterly fascinating about the sight of his body entering hers, sliding so slickly into her and out again. The muscles in his arms tightened, his thighs were hard and tense as he held her before him. A living, breathing, and oh so willing sacrifice. Oliver’s hands gripped her more firmly and he quickened his pace, thrusting still deeper. He was watching, too, his narrow, sensuous gaze fixed upon the joining of their bodies, and Vivianna could tell it excited him as much as her.

She realized that her passion was building again, when only a moment ago she had thought herself limp with completion. “I didn’t think a man could make love more than once a night,” she gasped.

“This man can,” he growled.

And suddenly she knew she wanted to touch him, to press against him, to be in his arms. Vivianna pushed up with her hands on the mattress, struggling to sit, and immediately he stopped and drew her to him. He lifted her from the bed as if she weighed a feather, and she clung to his neck, her legs wrapped tight above his hips. Then he turned and sat upon the bed and eased across it, supporting her. Vivianna found herself seated in his lap facing him, her thighs resting upon his, her body still joined with his.

His skin was rough against hers, especially the dark hair of his chest. She bent her head and licked at him, tasting his salty sweat. And then the powerful muscles of his legs and arms cradled her, and he bent his head and claimed her mouth in a hot, erotic kiss.

Her breasts ached, and she pressed them against him, enjoying the friction. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair, her mouth feeding from his, and let the moment slide. Slowly, in no hurry now, Vivianna moved against him, feeling the heavy length of him inside her, her sheath holding him tightly. He clasped her hips and thrust back, deeper, urging her to mimic his movements, and soon they were lost in the pleasure of their bodies and the only sounds in the room apart from the crackle of flames were gasps and groans and soft cries of completion.

Later, he fed her with pieces of food and dribbled champagne over her and licked it off her again. Vivianna laughed and lay atop his body, smiling down into his half-closed and decidedly wicked eyes. He taught her to ride him from on top and held her tight when she thought she was going to fly into the night sky with the wonder of it. And he bathed her body with warm scented water and patted her dry with a towel, and spooned her against him when she slept.

Vivianna had never felt so pampered, so replete, so wonderfully alive. She did not think of tomorrow. She did not want to. This was a moment out of time, a dream that could have no place in the real world. To think that anything more was possible was to let in pain and hurt, and Vivianna was too clever for that.

She had her rake and he had been more than she had hoped for, but soon they must part forever.

“Vivianna?”

Oliver was shaking her gently. “Vivianna, we must go.” He was helping her up, pulling her clothing on, lifting her arms as if she were as helpless as a rag doll. Her body was stiff and sore, and once or twice she caught her breath in pain. “Poor sweetheart,” he murmured, and kissed her temple, but she felt that he was mocking her, just a little.

He was a rake, after all, and Vivianna knew that you couldn’t trust rakes.

When they reached the coach and climbed inside, she moved to her own corner, but he wasn’t done with her yet. He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.

She gave a feeble protest, but he laughed.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, Vivianna. I want to tell you something.”

“I’m sore, Oliver. I don’t say it wasn’t worth it, but I don’t think…What do you want to tell me?” She glanced up at his profile in the darkness.