Page 36 of The Devil's Bargain
“Perhaps, but you’re not as pure as you make yourself seem.”
Caroline bristled, feeling offended. “I thought I was perfect in your eyes.”
A charming grin split his face. “You are, and that’s one of the reasons why.” His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Can we stop pretending you’re not as fascinated by me as I am by you?”
“You’re impossibly arrogant.”
“And you’re irresistible when you’re angry.” He leaned over her shoulder, his warmth seeping into her. “Especially when you’re trying so hard to resist me.”
“You’re vexing.” She shot up from her chair but only to be trapped in his embrace. Pushing her chair aside, his powerful arms circled around her waist as his lips trailed kisses along her neck. His scent, leather and shaving soap, wrapped around her like a physical touch. She found it impossible to tear herself away from him.
He linked his fingers with hers then, to her bewilderment, began talking about work. “For your technology to work effectively, we require twice the current capacity.”
Caroline tried to focus on the words, but her mind didn’t give a damn. It only cared about the sensation his lips were creating along her shoulder, neck, jaw…
“The filtration requirements are complex,” he murmured near her ear. “But I’m sure your brilliant mind will solve that particular puzzle.”
“D-Do you think you can seduce me with flattery?”
“No.” His hands bracketed her hips and turned her around, pinning her against the table. With a subtle tilt of his head, he ordered the servants to clear the table.
His lips brushed against her ear as he said, “I think you’re already seduced. By my mind as much as my body. Just as I am by yours.”
“That’s out of—” But his mouth caught her protest, turning it into a moan. She meant to push him away, but somehow her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. The kiss deepened, became something hungry and desperate, full of all the tension that had built between them. Before she realised what was happening, Devlin pulled up her skirts and wrapped one of her legs around his hip.
“Devlin, this is—” His caressing fingers along the back of her stockinged leg made her forget herself. Gasps and moans were the only sounds she could utter. He continued his assault on her mouth, his kiss becoming fiercer, more desperate, while his fingers stroked her lightly, reverently.
Finally, when they broke apart for air, breathing hard, he pushed the skirts away from her hips. Overpowered by her own desire and curiosity, Caroline was helpless to push him away. She’d had relations with Edward, then Thomas Findlay, andthere had even been some passion in the latter. But not like this. Never like this.
Once the skirts were cleared out of the way, Devlin, still holding her gaze intensely, burrowed his member against her thigh. He watched her face with concern and possessiveness, as if to see if she liked it and to remind her who was touching her. Caroline gasped at his hardness, at the sheer size of it.
When he dipped his head again for a kiss, she was surprised yet again by his tenderness. His lips brushed against hers, now swollen and sensitive from his ardour. He nipped and licked her lips lightly, the delicate touch soothing her skin. Then, just as tenderly, his hand crept up to where her stocking ended, caressing her skin underneath the lace first then slowly making his way toward her heat.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered, not quite convinced herself. “I still hate you.”
“Noted,” he rasped. “Even if you wish to punish me, don’t deny the pleasure I could give you.”
“Like you gave those courtesans?” Her voice came out cold, surprising her with the jealousy she felt.
He chuckled softly, his fingers still drawing circles, getting closer to her sex.
“I shall do more. Much, much more to my wife. To please her. To keep her wanting me.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “How many ways are there?”
“This, for instance.” Then his fingers were on her cunny, fondling her folds and her entrance. Then he stroked her swollen bud, his motion confident and firm.
The protest died in her throat and Caroline released a moan instead.
“Blast it, you’re sensitive. Just the way I like my wench,” he muttered against her mouth before kissing her with urgency. Supporting her leg and bottom firmly with one hand, he tracedthe outlines of her folds, then groaned at the moisture pooling at her entrance.
“Bloody tight, Caroline…” he whispered as he entered her cunny with his middle finger. Her gasp had his member twitching, growing even more than she thought possible. The hard ridge of his rod dug into her thigh as his finger burrowed into her quim.
Gripping the back of her head with his large hand, he exposed her elegant neck to his hungry eyes. His teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh as his finger plunged in and out of her pussy. With each movement he stroked her bud, now swollen fully upon his ministration. Caroline didn’t recognise the moans leaving her lips as the light skimming of his teeth, the caress on her sensitive bud, and the movement of his finger—stroking her inner wall in the exact spot that eased her ache—shot overwhelming pleasure through her body.
The sensation built and built until it exploded beautifully, flooding her body with heat until she was overpowered by pleasure. The damned man seemed to know exactly when to slow down his finger, when to press on her bud, and… my God, when and where to stroke her cunny to drain the last drop of honey from her sex. She felt utterly spent, powerless under his tender ministrations, completely undone by such a simple act she had experienced with other men. Except this was wholly singular. Caroline held onto him, her only anchor in that moment.
They didn’t speak for a while, and only their shallow breathing filled the room.
