Page 11 of The Villain
When she returned home thirty thousand pounds wealthier, she hoped they would be able to forgive her for what she’d had to do. She hoped Bertram would understand she’d done it all for him—her brother; the only man who had ever treated her as if she possessed a mind of her own. The only man to treat her as an equal.
Her virtue in exchange for her family—a price she was more than willing to pay. They might not have always understood her—her parents trying to stifle some of her less than ladylike propensities—but they loved her, and had done what they could to help her fit in with the other ladies of her age, to ensure she had a secure future and could make a good match for marriage. Bertram had accepted her as she was, often giving her the sort of understanding and affection their father had seemed incapable of. When they were finished being hurt that she’d acted without their leave, they would forgive her. Perhaps, they would even thank her.
Once Niall had gone, Adam returned to her, arms folded over his chest. All the humor had fled the room, as if the butler had taken it with him. Adam’s gaze upon her felt cold now, as if he assessed how best to effectively dismantle her.
Then, he was moving to the table where they’d shared breakfast, shoving dishes and platters aside. Turning to her, he grasped her waist and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather. He deposited her upon the table, grasping her knees and pulling her legs apart as wide as they would go. The swift motion threw her off balance, and she used her hands to brace herself, forcing her back to arch and thrusting her breasts upward. She wanted nothing more than to right herself and close her legs, but he quickly stepped between them, looming over her and bracing his hands on the edges of the table to trap her between his arms.
“The idea of forcing you to run about naked has just become more appealing,” he said, his lips brushing against her jaw. “Yes, I can see it now … you crawling to me on your hands and knees wearing only those stockings.”
She turned her head just before his lips could touch hers, narrowing her eyes at him. “I am not a dog, and I will not crawl about on the floor like one.”
Leaning even closer, he nuzzled her nose with his, momentarily disarming her with the unexpected gesture. Were he not looking at her as if prepared to rip her to shreds, she might have mistaken it as one of affection.
“No, not a dog,” he agreed. “More like a kitten wearing a bonny little ribbon.”
Taking the end of the ribbon tied around her throat between his fingers, he caressed it, his sun-kissed skin dark against her porcelain. His knuckles brushed her breast, and when she shuddered in response, he grinned and repeated the motion—dragging his knuckles across her nipple over and over as his thumb and forefinger played with the silk ribbon.
“Will you purr for me when I pet you?” he whispered.
She had just opened her mouth to hurl a stinging retort when he suddenly slammed his lips over hers. The words lodged in her throat, shoved down by the invasion of his tongue as he slipped it into her mouth.
Daphne had been kissed before, and in truth had always found the experience varied depending upon who one happened to be kissing. She would have liked to think her past experiences would prepare her to be kissed by Adam.
As it turned out, nothing could have prepared her for this.
His mouth pressed hard against hers, his lips parting and closing in a languid rhythm that left her drugged, his tongue retreating to trace the seam between them before invading to search for hers again. The velvet rasp of his tongue sent a little thrill through her, causing the tips of her breasts to tighten.
A low sound rumbled between them—a growl vibrating through his chest and echoing between their parted mouths. Her head began to spin as the primal sound echoed around them while he mauled her with his lips and tongue and teeth. She winced when he bit her lower lip, then sighed when his tongue caressed away the sting. Then, as if the first bite had been a prelude, he nipped her again, hard enough to draw a sharp cry from her. He followed the bite with gentler bites, then slowed the tempo of their kiss entirely, languidly brushing his mouth over hers as their racing breaths mingled on the air between them.
Before she could make sense of the mess his assault had made of her faculties, his heavy hand fell onto her belly. Meeting her gaze, he held it as his hand began to slide down toward the mound between her legs. Despite her intentions to remain passive, she couldn’t muffle the low whimper of panic that escaped as her thighs clenched, impeded from closing by his body wedged effectively between her knees.
“Shh,” he crooned, still steadily brushing his lips over hers. “Let me touch you, little dove.”
His thumb slipped between her lower lips, finding the hidden bud of pleasure. She’d only let one other man touch her here, but it became hard to think of him now as Adam stroked her in slow circles, the calloused pad offering delicious friction.
“Oh,” she whimpered, small shudders of pleasure rippling out through her body with every pass of his digit over her clit.
He deepened their kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as he dipped his thumb lower to discover the wetness seeping from her core. Smearing it over her pearl, he increased the pressure of his caresses, changing his rhythm as if he noticed she angled her hips toward him more when he touched her a certain way. As if he knew, by simple touch, what she craved.
“That’s it, love,” he grunted, his voice thick and heavy with the lust causing his cock to bulge against the front of his breeches. “Relax and let me touch you. Doesn’t that feel so good?”
Biting her lower lip, she choked back a moan. He was touching her as if he existed in her dreams and knew what she imagined a lover doing to her as she lay alone in her bed. As if he’d touched her before and already knew every contour and pleasure spot to be found.
As if he wanted to ensure no man could ever touch her this way again without causing her to think of him.
The bloody bastard.
She could not fall prey to his seduction, to let him make her forget why she was here. Her family was destitute, and he held the funds she needed to set things right. All she had to do was let him use her without losing hold of her good sense in the process.
“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” she asked, panting her words out between ragged breaths.
With a grin, he tickled her entrance with his index finger, still steadily plying her clitoris with his thumb. “Eager for my cock already? Sometimes, a man simply wants to sample the goods before the plunder.”
Meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt of her head, she sneered. “Or maybe a man simply isn’tupto the challenge?”
He froze, his fingers stilling between her thighs, his eyes flashing with golden lightning strikes. The feral gleam there warned her she’d gone too far, but she remained powerless to avoid her fate as he snatched one of her hands up from the table, causing her to fall onto her back. Dishes rattled when she hit the surface, and as she attempted to prop herself up on one elbow, he took her other hand and pressed it to the fall of his breeches. She gasped at the feel of his cock against her palm, the organ seeming to have grown even more since he’d pressed it against her earlier. It fairly throbbed with power and promise, a threat too large to be ignored.
“Does itfeelas if I’m not up for the challenge of fucking you until you beg me to stop?” he challenged. “Or maybe you won’t beg me to stop … maybe you’ll plead for more.”
