Page 84 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
She glided toward him, her eyes as soft and luminous as the candle flame. He held out his arms and gathered her to him, for the moment content to do no more than strain her close to his heart.
It was she who drew back. Solemnly, she gathered the fullness of her hair, brushing it over one shoulder to expose the fastenings of her gown. Turning her back to him, she waited for him to undress her, her breath coming quickly.
Mandell’s throat thickened with some emotion that had nothing to do with his desire. His fingers moved over the ribbon ties of her gown with a reverence that made him clumsy.
It seemed to take him an eternity to work through the layers of her garments, during which he was aware of nothing but her soft breathing and the thundering of his own heart. He pushed aside the fabric of her gown and chemise, baring the smooth ivory skin of her back.
Bending, he trailed kisses along the ridge of her spine up to her shoulder blade. Anne leaned back against him with a long rapturous sigh. Then she turned and began easing her gown down over her arms.
His pulse racing, he watched her garments, one by one, fall to the floor. The full white globes of her breasts were outlined in the candlelight, the slender line of her waist, the swell of her hips.
She stood before him, her only adornment her golden sheen of hair. Mandell worshiped her nakedness with his eyes, her supple body a white silhouette, the mysteries of her female form intensifying his desire. She seemed a woman more born of mists and dreams. He half feared if he touched her, she would vanish, leaving him alone in the darkness. He stroked his fingers tentatively along the curve of her cheek.
“God, Anne, you are beautiful. If it were only within my power to make you see how beautiful you are.”
“It is enough that you make me feel that way,” she whispered.
He drew her close to him, capturing her lips in a kiss that was lingering. Somewhere within him a fire raged, a fire that demanded he possess her immediately. But the desire was overruled by a greater need to take things slowly, to make this night last forever.
He kissed her temple, her eyelids and her cheeks, his hands running down the length of her back, delighting in the feel of her skin, as warm and smooth as silk. Her face flushed, Anne tugged at the belt that held his dressing robe closed.
She undid the knot and parted the satin folds of the garment.
Her fingers skimmed his chest as she worked the robe off his shoulders. Mandell drew in a sharp breath. He had never liked to have a woman undress him, finding the notion too strangely intimate, leaving him less in control of the lovemaking.
Yet he reveled in the gentle way Anne removed his robe. He closed his eyes as her fingers roved over his chest and shoulders in tentative exploration. Her caress was almost enough to bring him to his knees.
He gathered her in his arms, kissing her again, molding her breasts to his naked flesh, the warmth of her body flowing into him, sending heat rushing through his veins. Nothing stood between them and the culmination of desire except the coarse fabric of his breeches.
Anne managed to undo the buttons, but he had to help her edge the tight cloth down his hips, his hands covering hers, gently guiding her. She bent before him, tugging the breeches to his ankles so that he could step out of them.
Then she looked up, her gaze filled with a kind of wonder as she studied his legs, the hardened evidence of his arousal, the breadth of his chest, her glance finally coming to rest upon his face. The piercing clarity of her blue eyes shook him to the core of his soul.
To have her kneeling before him in an attitude of adoration was so unbearable it was painful. Mandell made haste to draw her to her feet. Swooping her into his arms, he carried her to his bed and laid her upon the mattress.
As he settled down beside her, her mouth sought his with a sweet eagerness. Her hands moved over his back and shoulders, exploring his body with increasing boldness. Anne had spoken earlier of her own desires, but he sensed she was striving mostly to bring him pleasure.
He sought to match her generosity. He had little enough to offer her but the consummate skill as a lover he had acquiredover the years, his intimate knowledge of a woman’s body, her most secret needs.
As he stroked and caressed her, he wanted to be able to do more for her, to murmur soft words in her ear. But the practiced endearments he usually employed seemed too hollow for such a moment, and as for whisperings of tenderness, he had none. So he had to content himself to make love to her in silence, communicating his need for her with his hands and his kiss.
His fingers skimmed over her curves. Gently capturing her breast, Mandell placed his lips over the rosy-tipped crest, caressing it with the rough heat of his tongue. Anne arched back with a whimper of pleasure.
She had seen the promise of passion in Mandell’s dark eyes from their first encounter in a moonlit garden. It was a promise he now fulfilled, his kisses hot and sweet, his long, graceful fingers working magic, making her feel things she had never imagined possible. No, not for the dull, virtuous Anne.
She was a different woman in his arms, wanton, free and ... yes, beautiful. She could see the effect she had on Mandell and she could not suppress a tiny thrill that she possessed the power to stir him so.
As he pressed her onto her back, holding himself poised above her, his face was flushed with passion, desire melting away the hauteur and the lines of mocking distance he usually maintained between them.
A fine sheen of perspiration bathed his flesh, sweat glistening on the muscular contours of his shoulders and chest. His eyes burned into her, the cast of his mouth both sensual and tender as he kissed her.
She was struck with a sense of awe at the sheer masculine power he possessed and knew a brief flickering of fear as he parted her legs. But he eased himself inside her so gently, tears sprang to her eyes. A sad thought came unbidden to her mind,that this was as close as she would ever come to Mandell, this union of their flesh. She would never touch his heart or soul.
She embraced him with near desperation, seeking to take all of him into herself, striving to meld her body with his. He began to move inside her and she forgot all else but the bittersweetness of this moment when no barriers seemed to exist between them.
Anne kissed him, arched against him, her body moving as one with his. The pleasure he brought her spiraled into something so intense, she cried out, digging her nails into his back.
He groaned her name, escalating the rhythm, taking her with him into his own land of fire and shadow, seeking a mutual fulfillment that left Anne feeling shattered and spent.
