Devil's Embrace (Devil 1)
He reached her behind the large mahogany desk and she lashed out at him. Her fist connected with his belly.
“That is quite enough, Cassandra,” he said, and pinned her arms to her sides. She tried to kick at him, but he pulled her so tightly against his body that she could not move.
Her heart beat wildly and her breasts heaved against his chest. She had believed—still believed—that he was going to beat her.
“Cassandra, look at me.”
He shook her slightly. Reluctantly, she raised her head. Her face was drained of color, yet there was defiant anger in her eyes.
“Why would you think that I would beat you?”
Although his tone was gentle, Cassie felt her stomach churn, for she knew she was impotent against him, impotent in all things.
“You are cruel.”
“Like Barbarossa?”
His expression was impassive and she felt uncertainty about herself, and about him. “Why do you mock me??
??
“I do not mock you, cara, nor was it ever my intention to beat you.”
“Don’t lie to me. You were furious at me and you were taking off your belt.”
“Yes, I was angry at your vicious tongue. But understand me, Cassandra, I would never thrash you because you behave like a stupid child or a raging termagant. As to my belt, it must be removed if I am to strip off my clothes. It is my body you need, cara, not a beating.”
“No.” She twisted frantically against him to break his hold. She felt the hardness of him against her belly and color surged to her cheeks.
“You are worse than Barbarossa.”
He merely smiled at her and leaned against the desk. He spread his thighs and pulled her between them. He held her hands behind her with one hand, and let the other move casually over her hips.
“Why hold yourself so rigid, my love?” he whispered, his warm breath against her temple. “Think about how you will feel very soon now. We have been apart for much too long a time.” His fingers continued their gentle probing, and she felt his hard member through her gown and petticoats, throbbing and hungry for her.
His voice, deep and sensual, sounded again in her ear. “Think about my mouth moving over you. You are so pink and soft, cara. You taste so sweet.”
Cassie reared her head back. “Damn you, I will not let you seduce me with words. I will not listen to you.”
She felt his mouth close over her, and the now familiar gentle probing of his tongue against her lips. His fingers caressed the back of her neck, then moved slowly to the bodice of her gown. She felt him pulling away the velvet ribbon that bound her hair. He released her mouth, and his lips trailed over her throat, and up to nibble at her ear. She felt a sudden bolt of heat burn through her. She was scarce aware that he no longer held her hands behind her, that her arms of their own volition tugged at his shoulders to bring him closer to her.
“Please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t make me feel like this.” But even as she spoke, she pressed against him, consumed by her own desire.
As his fingers parted the buttons of her gown and drew open the ribbons of her chemise, he murmured, “I want to touch you, be close to you, be drawn deep inside of you.”
His mouth closed over her breast, and she arched her back against him. He weaved his passion about her patiently, tauntingly, until at last she cried out brokenly, her voice slurred with desire, “Please, I cannot bear it . . .”
“Do you want me, Cassandra? Do you want me inside you?”
Her eyes took on a vague, smoky sheen as his fingers glided lightly over her breasts.
“Do you, Cassandra?”
“Yes.”
The small word seemed wrenched from her. He let his mouth close once again over hers. He felt her hands fumble with the buckle of his infamous belt and was delighted that for the first time she was showing initiative. But she could not free the silver hook and with a moan of frustration, she pounded her fists against his chest.
“Savor your passion, my love,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face. “Let it build inside you until you feel you will die if you do not find release.”