Page 63 of Shame the Devil
“Oh … kay.” She was having some trouble breathing.
“Second rule is …” He leaned down and kissed her again, nothing but gently, then trailed a string of kisses, light as a whisper, over to her ear, and told her, his voice a murmur, “You don’t get to try to please me.”
“Wh-what?” His lips were moving down now, below her ear. His mouth was on her neck, there where she was most sensitive, as if he’d been drawn to the spot. His hand was in her hair, holding her head, and it was getting a little hard to concentrate. “Harlan …”
“Also …” he said, between kisses at her neck. He was using his teeth the tiniest bit, and the liquid was flooding her veins. Those silver streaks again, going straight to the spot. “I love hearing you call me by my name. I think I’m going to have to insist on that, too.”
“Go back to the … second thing,” she said. “About me.”
He moved to her mouth again, and this time, he kissed her deeper. Kissed her harder, his fingers twining through her hair, tugging at it. So she’d know he was there, she thought, and that was exciting her more. “That’s my birthday present,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about pleasing me, because I’m going to be pleasing myself. You’re going to let me do whatever I want. And you’re going to do whatever I say.”
That was another jolt. A harder one. Alarm. Desire. She tried to say something. It came out as more of a gasp.
He was pulling the tie of her robe now, almost in slow motion, and then he was pulling the two sides apart, spreading them wide with so much deliberation. He looked her over for a long, long moment and didn’t touch her at all, but she could feel the excitement ratcheting up in him like she was in his body. He said, “You’re injured, and it’s going to be too easy for you to forget that once this starts. So if you’re moving tonight, it’s because I’m moving you. Safely. Are we all clear on that?”
She looked up into his face. Stern and strong, the laughter gone, all the surface charm stripped away. Like she was seeing the real man. A man who was way too much for her.
Too bad that too much was exactly what she wanted.
“Yes,” she said, and swallowed. “We’re … clear.”
His hand brushed over her. Her cheek. Her neck. Her shoulder. Her breast. Light as down, and still, she stiffened like she’d been shocked. He smiled and kept it going. Her belly. Her thigh. He stopped there, wrapped his hand around her inner thigh, and said, “Last rule. If you don’t want something, say so. If your foot hurts, if anything hurts, if it doesn’t feel good—tell me. Otherwise?” He wasn’t smiling now, and it wasn’t nice. Her heart was beating like she was in danger. Like she needed to run. He said, “Understand this, because I’m only going to tell you once. Tonight isn’t about you doing what you want, so get that through your head right now. Tonight, it’s all about me.”
27
Following the Rules
Oh,yeah. He’d been right. That was working.
For her, that is. Because you bet it was working for him. Her eyes were amber in the low light, her full lips a little parted, and he’d swear she was panting already just from that. Just from him spreading that robe open, looking her over, and saying a few things.
She was good at fantasy, she’d told him. But making those fantasies come true? That was whathewas good at.
It was going to be any trouble at all to get inspired. Her skin gleamed white, except for the flush that was spreading from her chest to her cheeks under his gaze, her breasts were round and full and gorgeously pink-tipped, her waist was the kind of deep indentation that had surely been fashioned for a man’s hands, her hips were more than generous, and those were sure as hell some juicy thighs. White. Rounded. Perfect. He said, “You’re what Dyma said. Like something from another century. And I want my hands all over you. But first …” He got his clothes off in one big hurry, rolled over her, planted his hands on either side of her head, held himself rigid over her, watched those golden eyes widen, and enjoyed the hell out of it. He said, “Spread your legs a little, baby. I don’t want to hurt that foot.” A slow smile, the kind that would let her know what he was thinking. “And I want to look.”
She took a breath, and then she did it, which meant he was, yes, between her legs. Which was a pretty damn good start. He said, “Now slide your arms out of that robe.”
She said, “You can’t … hold yourself up like that, though.”
He lowered himself slowly, until he was a bare couple inches from her face, until his chest was brushing the tips of her breasts, and said, “Remind me. What were your rules for tonight?”
That flush on her cheeks was deeper now, and he spared a moment to think about redheads, and how they couldn’t hide a thing. He wanted to see more of that. He wanted to see her face twist with the force of her orgasm, to see her eyes open wide with surprise and wonder and shock. He wanted everything. For now, though, he’d settle for this.
She said, “That I should …” Another breath in. “Do what you say.”
He lowered himself farther, just enough to kiss her mouth, to feel it opening under his like she couldn’t help it. He deepened the kiss, sent his tongue on a slow, sweet exploration, felt the way she took him in, the way her hands were clutching his shoulders, thought about that other sexual skill of hers, then pressed himself up again and said, “That’s right. You’re doing what I say. So if you want more of that? Take your arms out of there.”
She did. First one arm, then the other, and, yeah, that was what she looked like all the way naked. And waiting. Trembling a little with excitement, too. He let himself stay there and savor that moment. He let her wait a little longer, too. Then he said, “I’m going to kiss you some more. I’m going to touch you. I’m going to explore every single inch of you. Your only job is to lie back and enjoy it. We clear?”
“But you won’t …” She was gasping some now. Nothing but a kiss and a little dirty talk, and he already had her halfway there. “Get enough out of it. I should … I can … If you come up here, I can use my … mouth.”
Some more red in her cheeks. Some more embarrassment.
He shifted his weight to one hand and put the other one over her mouth. “Jennifer,” he said, making it stern, because she loved it. “It’s my birthday. Remember?”
She nodded over his hand, and he sent that hand down and palmed a breast, then let it go and moved down her body. He lowered himself again, and this time, he was sucking on a hard pink nipple. The second he started, she jerked beneath him, and now, he heard the gasp. He let her go and said, “Listen to me. Listen hard. I thought I made this clear, but I obviously need to tell you again. Exactly what you’re going to give me for my birthday.”
“Wh-what?” she asked. Her hands were running over his arms now. Feeling the muscles that would be standing out there, because he’d been up here doing this plank for a long time. It was burning some, and he didn’t care.
