Page 81 of The Art of Sinning
Both of his eyebrows shot high. “Clearly you spent entirely too much time at the brothel the other night.”
“I didn’t spend enough, or I’d know where exactly to put my hands.”
Fire leapt in his features. “Anywhere you damned well please. Because I intend to do the same.”
But when he reached for her, she stepped back. “Not yet. You’ve had several chances to caress me already, and I’ve had none, so I need a few moments to explore before—”
“I start mauling you?” he finished, his guttural tone thrumming her senses.
“You start turning me into mush. You owe me that.”
Some unreadable emotion gleamed in the gaze that bore into hers. “I suppose I do.” He let his arms fall to his sides. “Go ahead then, if you feel you have to... have to...”
He stuttered to a halt as she put her hands on his chest, eager to touch, stroke... enjoy. He was so firm, so supple. So deliciously hers. She thumbed the flat nipples, echoes of her own, and was delighted by his sharp, indrawn breath. It encouraged her to investigate further, to sweep her fingers over his flexing muscles, to slide her hands over his abdomen.
“Yes,” he hissed, “lower. Touch my prick, damn it.”
The harsh command made something carnal uncurl in her belly. Any other man telling her what to do would have sparked her ire, but this was Jeremy. Everything he said or did seemed to arouse her.
She closed her hand about his jutting flesh.
“Oh, God,” he breathed, then barked, “Grip it tight. Stroke it up and down.” When she did as he bade, he growled, “Like that, yes.” Then he caught her about the waist. “I’ve waited long enough for my turn.”
That was all the warning she got before he slid a hand between her thighs. She let out a squeak of surprise, then a moan as his fingers delved through her damp curls to find the tight kernel of flesh that was so eager for his caress. And when he began to rub it, deftly, roughly, she shuddered with the thrill of it.
Oh myLord.He did that quite well. It was so sensual, so... oh, heavenly day!
“God, you feel like silk,” he said, as if the words were torn from him. “I can never show in a painting how something feels. I’d give anything to capture the slick velvet of your skin. Nothing is as soft as you are here.”
Breathing heavily now, she gave his prick a long, sensuous pull. “And nothing is as hard as you are here.”
Heat flared in his face. “Not for long, if you keep doing that.”
Before she could wonder what he meant he was pulling her toward the bed, where he tumbled her down upon it with little ceremony. As she rolled onto her back, he stretched out beside her and threw one leg over hers as if to trap her.
He braced himself up on one elbow, his eyes raking her body shamelessly. “You would drive a man into Bedlam.” He cupped a breast, then pinched the nipple erect. “These lovelies of yours make me insane.”
The compliment made her arch them up toward him, which had him sliding down to take them in his mouth in turn. As he sucked and teased, she drank up every sensation his lashing tongue sent through her body. Who was being driven to Bedlam now?
He smoothed his hand down her abdomen, past her navel, and then settled it between her thighs. Craving a firmer touch, she squirmed against it. But when he thrust a finger deep inside her it startled her, and instinctively she jerked her legs together.
He withdrew his finger at once and lifted his head from her breasts. “Having second thoughts, are you?”
Triumph sounded in his voice. But why? Then it dawned on her. The devil was deliberately trying to demonstrate how “selfish” he was.
She wouldn’t let him get away with that. “No second thoughts.” Forcing herself to relax, she let her legs fall open. “Just taken by surprise.”
He stared at her. “You really are a wanton, aren’t you?”
If he’d intended to wound her with the words, he shouldn’t have said them in such a husky voice. Determined to make her point, she seized his rampant prick. “And you really are a scoundrel.What of it?”
With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, though he didn’t pull his prick from her hand. “Damn it, Yvette, you know this is wrong.”
She took that for an admission of what he’d been trying to do. “It doesn’t feel wrong to me.” She drew his hand back to the spot between her legs that ached for him. “It feels marvelous, actually.”
His eyes shot open, hot and hungry. “I give up.” This time when he slid his finger inside her, it was slow and smooth and utterly delicious. “You win.”
“Oh?” She shimmied beneath the clever stroking of his finger. “What do I... win?”
