Page 42 of One Night with a Prince
He returned to ravaging her mouth. But gone was the restraint he’d exhibited earlier in the day. He cupped her breast through the chemise, then slid her chemise off one shoulder so he could knead the naked flesh beneath with his warm, broad hand.
But when he squeezed her nipple, sending a shock of pleasure straight to her belly and below, she tore her mouth from his to murmur, “Byrne, please…”
She wasn’t sure if she was begging for him to stop or to go on. Taking her by surprise, he lifted her onto the card table behind them, forcing her to release her grip on his…his thing. The flimsy table wobbled under her weight, and she grabbed for his arms to steady her. “What in blazes do you think you’re doing?”
His only answer was to tug her chemise down enough to expose one aching breast to his heavy-lidded gaze. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He bent his head to suck her nipple. Hard. She nearly shot up off the table. “Oh, Lord,” she moaned, even as she clutched his head close for more. He happily obliged her, teasing her nipple with teeth and tongue, making her gasp and sigh and yearn. She’d never felt anything this intense with her husband, never. What sort of wanton was she, that she could only feel it with this blatantly immoral scoundrel?
“Blast you,” she whispered. “You are such a…devious…devil…”
“I do try,” he rasped, sliding his hand inside her chemise to find her other nipple and roll it between his thumb and forefinger in a motion clearly designed to drive her insane. “Do you like that, lass?”
“Yes…oh…yes…” When he removed his wicked hands so he could shove her chemise down to her waist, she caught his hands before he could touch her again. “Wait a minute—I’m not supposed to be naked. Onlyyou are, you…you cheater,” she accused him breathlessly. His eyes glittered like the fiercest of foxes in some dark-forested night. “You won’t be happy until I concede defeat, will you?” He shoved down his drawers and kicked them away. “There—you’ve got your winnings. I’m naked as the day I was born.”
Her gaze shot inexorably to the flesh he’d bared, and her mouth went dry. Lord help her. She’d seen only one man naked in her entire life, and he’d been nothing like Byrne. Philip’s member had been long, sleek, and slender. Easy to manage.
Byrne’s didn’t look easy to manage. It thrust boldly forward like the impudent scoundrel that it was—hard and huge and heavy. And unmanageable. Exactly like its owner. Who was presently inching up her chemise—
“Stop that!” she protested, grabbing for his hands. “You mustn’t—”
He cut her off with a long, needy kiss, the sort of soul-deep kiss she was rapidly growing addicted to. Philip hadn’t been much for kissing…or for silken caresses, either. Lovemaking had been a basic need he satisfied as quickly as possible, often leaving her craving the inexplicable.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlBut even as Byrne’s caresses built that same craving inside her, he began satisfying it. He fondled the breasts that craved his touch, fingered the nipples that yearned for his teasing, slid his hand up inside her thigh until his thumb found the pulsing center of all her cravings and…
“Byrne!” she cried as he rubbed her most impudently. She grabbed his hand. “I don’t think you should—”
“Hush, my sweet, you think too much.” He stroked her on that tender spot again, making her squirm on the table shamelessly.
Desperately, she fought to keep her sanity. “No doubt you’ve used…that line before.”
“Hardly.” He slid a finger inside her, and she gasped. “You met my mistresses—did they seem the type to need coaxing to misbehave?”
“No, but—”
“The trouble with you is that you have everything backwards.”
Now he was thumbing her nipple with one hand and thrusting his finger inside her with the other. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t halt the rush of sensations assaulting her. He went on in a husky rasp. “When youshould be using that clever brain of yours, playing whist, you let every emotion sway you. But let a man try to make love to you, and all you do is think.”
He heated her cheeks and brow and temples with a series of kisses designed to do anythingbut make her think. She struggled against the fog stealing over her.
“There you go again,” he murmured. “You’re thinking. I can tell from your frown.”
“If I don’t…keep my wits about me…you’ll destroy me.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Such drama. Does this feel like destruction?”
He drove another finger deep inside her, making her rise up on the table with a cry of alarm…of delight…of pleasure. Blast him.
“You can think later,” he added. “Right now, just feel and enjoy.”
But if she gave herself to him in this, she would give herself in other…more dangerous…Oh, Lord, what was he doing to her?
She gripped his shoulders as he battered her defenses on every front, giving her another of his too-enticing kisses while he caressed her inside and out, her breast…her nipple…the soft, throbbing flesh between her legs. She’d felt a vaguely unsatisfying ache down there before, but Byrne’s caresses sharpened it to a piercing need that grew and swelled and consumed her below, carrying her forward in a rush until she was arching into his hand and gripping his shoulders and reaching for something…
She tore her mouth from his as the craving grew insatiable. “Oh, Byrne…please…oh yes…”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Is this what you want?” he whispered, his motions growing fiercer, his breath thick and heavy against her cheek. “Is it, lass?”
“I want…I need…” It hit her suddenly, a flood of exquisite sensations she’d never known. “Byrne, yes!”
