Page 81 of The Secret of Flirting
“In appearance, you mean,” she said, faintly disappointed.
“In everything. Diplomacy. Intelligence.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Talent in the theater.” As that made her smile, he filled his hands with her breasts, thumbing her nipples to fine points. “And in bounty of bosom. Most assuredly.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “For a fellow who strategizes his every move, you are still such aman.”
Eyes gleaming, he pulled his hands from her breasts so he could work loose his trouser buttons. “Shall I show you how much of a man I am?”
“Oh yes.” She’d never actually seen a man naked, except on statues, and that could hardly be the same.
He shoved off his trousers, then swiftly divested himself of his drawers. And that’s when she thought better of her plan to lose her virtue to him. Because that massive engine thrusting out from between his thighs like a cannon headed for war was far more daunting than she’d expected. It was as arrogant as he, with ballocks the size of plums.
“Sacrebleu,” she couldn’t help whispering.
That made him falter. “Youhavedone this before, haven’t you?”
She considered revealing the truth. But then he would put a swift end to this. He was a gentleman, and he had some insane notion that she might end up a princess one day.
“What doyouthink?” she said, perversely not wanting to lie to him.
Thankfully, he came to the obvious conclusion and drew her into his arms. She ought to be insulted, but she was merely glad that he would do as she wanted and take her to his bed.
Or at least figuratively, since instead of leading her to his bedchamber, he hoisted her onto his desk and murmured, “Good. Because I can’t wait any longer to have you, my sweet.”
Then he was parting her legs and finding that soft, silky place that yearned for him and sliding up inside her as if heading home.
She choked down a gasp. My, my, but that was... not what she’d expected. Did every woman have to endure that largevergepressing up into her? More importantly, did every woman find itpleasurable?
Perhaps she was merely the exception. He seemed so thick, so intrusive.
“You’re as tight as a virgin,” he whispered, before taking her mouth in a leisurely kiss that roused her blood and made her less tense down below.
She tore her mouth free of his. “And how many virgins have you deflowered, monsieur?” she asked with forced nonchalance.
“None.” He kneaded her breast so silkily she gasped, which brought a self-satisfied gleam to his eyes. “I don’t believe in taking a woman’s innocence outside of marriage.”
Then he began moving inside her, and all thought of having lost her virtue to a man who didn’t actually believe intakinga woman’s virtue faded. Because this wasn’t what she’d expectedat all.
Yes, his hardvergeinside her was still uncomfortable. But the more he drove inside her and the more his clever fingers caressed her breast and herminouat the point of their joining, the more she found herself moaning and shimmying against him, trying to gain more of the delicious sensations he provoked.
“Monique,” he whispered in a ragged voice. “My dear, sweet princess. I could die happy inside you.”
She could die happy with him inside her, too. Because a hunger unlike any she’d experienced was building within her. She wanted to eat him up, to absorb him into her, to have him be part of her as no man ever had. And the more he lunged into her, the more she ached to have him deeper, further, more thoroughly hers.
Her cravings grabbed her by the throat, making her arch up into him, strain against him in search of more pleasure as he thrust inside of her.
“Ah, yes.” He spread kisses over her cheeks and throat and shoulder. “Show me what you want, my dearest. And I will give it to you, I swear.”
“I wantyou,” she murmured, hating herself for the admission. “Please, Gregory...”
With a growl, he increased his rhythm. His fingers thrummed against her where they were joined and the craving intensified until she was clutching him close and moaning and aching for something she couldn’t fathom... until it rose inside her like a phoenix lofting toward heaven.
“Gregory...” she moaned against his mouth. “My God,Gregory!”
And she catapulted into the sky, her body shaking and her heart feeling as if it might shatter into a million stars.
Then he drove hard and cried out something as he spilled his seed inside her. She could have sworn he’d said, “My love,” but that was impossible. He didn’t seem to believe in love.
Unfortunately, she was beginning to. Because she realized, as she held him close and tried not to cry over the glory of it, that she felt something for him she’d never felt for any man.
