“Like this.” His mouth swooped down and she was lost again in a world of sweet sensation.
She blinked when he stopped, and slowly opened her eyes. She was in a small bathroom of very simple but modern design. Donovan stood directly in front of her, his big hands lightly caressing her shoulders. His touch sent quivers running through her skin and a hot flush up her throat.
“Be quick about it, sweetheart.” He dropped a kiss on her hair and left. Viola shook herself for a few moments, trying to regain control, then obeyed him.
She came out shyly and found herself in a very elegant and simply equipped bedroom. The mahogany furnishings were sturdily built in a style suited to a gentleman of considerable means but discreet tastes. The walls wore a smooth white plaster coat and massive wooden beams supported the ceiling. Persian carpets flowed across the tile floor, while heavy cream brocade draperies covered the high windows. The linens were of the highest quality, with a silken coverlet draping the bed. The light, sweet scent of China roses and sage drifted in from the courtyard beyond.
But Viola paid very little attention to these elegancies. Instead her gaze was riveted upon the man himself. She’d been too nervous to consider his clean-limbed frame before. Now, the sight of him struck her like a thunderbolt. He had stripped off his shirt and was even now placing it on the campaign chest at the foot of the bed, revealing his bare back. Muscles rippled, bisected by the strong line of his spine until it vanished beneath his trousers. Oh happy woolen cloth, to envelop a firm masculine derrière such as his.
Her mouth went dry. She swallowed and tried to say something, anything.
“Sweetheart.” He faced her with a single raised eyebrow. His chest was bare, except for a cross and two medals hanging from a gold chain around his neck. She stared, caught by strength as firmly defined as any sculptor’s work.
Viola ran her tongue over her lips. “Mr. Donovan,” she croaked.
“Sweetheart.” His voice was deeper and closer to her. Those elegant brown nipples moved with every breath he took. She shook a little, unable to look away, while her own breasts heated.
He tilted her face up with one finger. “Sweetheart, do you want to kiss my chest again, so soon after this afternoon’s dalliance?”
Her gaze shot up to his face. She quivered at the amused warmth in his eyes as he caressed her cheek with that callused finger.
“It sounds an amiable pastime to me,” he drawled, and she swallowed hard. Heat glowed deep in her belly at the thought of touching him again.
“But for now I prefer the delight of fondling you,” he finished. He swirled his tongue over her lips and she quivered, reminded of his gentle play with the orange. Donovan probed the seam between her lips and teased her teeth.
Viola yielded her mouth with a sigh. His hand slipped behind her head, supporting her while he took his pleasure, deep and long. Her senses shimmered, then focused only on what he was doing, here and now.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. “You’re a tempting little filly and I would see more of you. Turn so I can unbutton you, sweetheart.”
“Mr. Donovan,” she began hesitantly. Surely he wouldn’t expect her to undress in front of him, something even a husband didn’t require. “Are you certain?”
Donovan’s sapphire eyes narrowed. “Are you refusing me? Going back on your word so soon?”
“Certainly not!” Viola snapped, her spine stiffening in outrage. “Lindsays never break their word, Mr. Donovan.” She spun around and presented him with the desired aspect of her body. How dare he even suggest such a thing, she fumed, tapping her toe.
She was still seething while he efficiently opened her dress down the back. Then he kissed the nape of her neck, nuzzling the sensitive point, and her affront vanished. Her brain skidded until she could barely remember he’d offended her.
Donovan slipped his hand inside the calico, and the corset beneath, until he cupped her breasts. His thumbs rubbed and plucked her nipples. He pulled her back against him so she straddled his leg. She twisted restlessly, unable to define what she wanted.
“Perfect,” he murmured. She moaned when he licked the pulse point behind her ear. Her breasts were swollen and aching as his knowing hands incited her to madness.
He released her abruptly and pulled her dress down to the floor, pausing only to unbutton the cuffs. Another moment made quick work of her canvas corset. She barely had time to draw a few breaths before she stood in only her chemise and drawers, with her boots below.
Viola bowed her head, trying to regain mastery of her whirling thoughts.
Then he gripped her waist lightly, turned her around, and seated her on the bed. He dropped to his knees and began to rapidly unfasten her boots.
“Mr. Donovan,” Viola stammered, looking down at the glossy black head so close to her loins. She could smell his scent now, all sandalwood and something uniquely him. Perhaps his musk. “Perhaps I should relieve you of that chore?”
“Did I say it was a chore?” He tossed one boot aside and went to work on the other.
“No, sir.” Was she expected to believe that all men took their mistresses’ footgear off?
The second boot thudded against the wall next to the first. Viola’s eyes were enormous as they scanned the untidy heap, which seemed so out of character for him.
Donovan stood up smoothly, close enough that she could feel his breath on her mouth. “Bend your head forward, sweetheart.”
What on earth? “Yes, sir.”
He plucked pins out with what felt like trembling fingers. Surely she was wrong about that. He must be skilled at undoing women’s hair. He plunged his hands into the heavy strands with what sounded like a groan. Moments later, her pale locks rippled down to her waist.
“You are a very beautiful woman, sweetheart,” he murmured, and kissed her again. She yielded gratefully, relieved to do something she understood at least partly. Heat strengthened in her gut and her skin was sensitive beyond all belief to his nearness.
His lips traveled over her face and down her throat until he reached her breasts. He lingered there, nuzzling and licking until her nipples glowed like cherries. He suckled and she groaned, her head falling back as sensations washed over her. She’d never thought anything could feel so sweet as the way his mouth’s every pull tightened something deep inside her. Her fingers unconsciously threaded into his hair.
His warm hand cupped her mound through her drawers. Viola moaned. His finger teased her through the threadbare cloth as dew flowed in response. She tossed her head, sobbing and aching.
“Lean back, sweetheart.” His voice was a dark ribbon of command. She obeyed instinctively and he removed her drawers.
A draft touched her knees as his tongue swirled through her intimate folds. Viola gasped in shock—and pleasure. Who’d have thought that such a simple thing could be so alluring? The first rhythmic pulse of ecstasy thudded deep in her loins.
Donovan licked her again and again, exploring her as if she were the road to El Dorado. Dew gushed and flowed, summoned by his caresses, until she twisted and moaned. Her legs wrapped around his head as she burned with need.
Then his finger explored her, circling the hidden entrance. His teeth tugged gently on her pearl and sent her hurtling into rapture, sobbing with shock as that single digit entered her.
She gasped when Donovan continued to drive her insane, denying her the time to catch her breath and return to the mundane world. His tongue danced over her skin to a rhythm she couldn’t predict, yet excited her like nothing she’d encountered before. His rough, callused finger delved deeper into her tight sheath and teased unfamiliar nerves into life. Any comparison to what her own hand had evoked from her intimate flesh faded as ecstasy built once more.
“Mr. Donovan, please,” she begged. “Must you do this again so soon?”
“Yes.” He blew on her pearl. Viola gasped and climaxed helplessly.
More pinnacles followed as his knowing hands and mouth turned her into a b
eing of liquid fire, every nerve responsive to his lightest whim. He worked a second digit into her, and a third. Her heated folds stretched to accommodate his insistence and the accompanying pleasure. If she twisted and sobbed, it was only so her hips could rub her yearning flesh against him.
Did she have two more climaxes? Or three? Perhaps there were four.
Finally a pause enabled her to open her eyes. She found Donovan leaning over her, watching her with half-shuttered eyes and face gleaming with her carnal juices. Her chemise had vanished at some prior moment, as evidenced by his big hand slowly fondling her bare, and eagerly upthrust, breasts.
More shockingly, his trousers had also departed. Now his hips were snug against hers so his crisp hairs teased her intimately. His cock pressed against her feminine folds like a burning iron brand.
A slow wave of heat mounted to her cheeks. “Mr. Donovan, please,” she begged, but couldn’t have said for what.
“You’re hot and wet and yielding, sweetheart. Are you ready for me?” He rubbed himself against her. She closed her eyes at another gush of dew from her loins. She needed more, whatever happened.
“Please,” she groaned. “Mr. Donovan, please take me.” Shyly, her hand stroked his arm, savoring the hard muscles and the surprisingly delicate veins.
“Ah, sweetheart, you’ve a way of expressing yourself that any man would find irresistible.” A faint brogue softened his deep voice. He moved away from her and she glimpsed his cock: immense, brilliantly crimson, throbbing. She quivered with fear and anticipation.
Then he opened a tin with a small click and extracted something from it. A moment later, he deftly slipped a sheath, made of a very thin membrane, over his cock and tied it in place with a ribbon. “Is that a French letter?” she asked without thinking, then blushed scarlet.
His eyes twinkled. “Indeed it is, sweetheart. But I prefer its older name of condom. And you will use that name, as well.”
Viola gulped and nodded as Donovan returned to his previous position between her legs, rubbing himself against her and fondling her tender breasts until she thought she’d go mad. “Mr. Donovan, why must you tease me so? Please, I beg of you, do something.”
He chuckled, more a strained groan than a laugh. His cock nudged her then slowly entered, restrained only by his discipline. Her body burned with the pain of accommodating him. Yet it felt right to do so.
She lay there with him and her breathing gradually steadied. Her deep internal muscles slowly adapted to the differing widths of his cock’s head and shaft.
A callused finger toyed with her nipple. Slowly her body’s ache changed from the agony of accepting him to the torment of needing more. Her sheath pulsed pleadingly and her womb clenched in hunger.
“Mr. Donovan, please…”
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he soothed her. “Don’t be ruining a fine moment with your impetuosity.” The Irish accent was definitely stronger now but Viola didn’t care. She wanted satisfaction, not self-control, from him.
“Donovan, dammit, hurry up.” She grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into him.
“Sweetheart, I’d no idea your mouth could shape vulgarities,” he drawled as another inch of his heated shaft sank into her.
Viola wrapped her legs around his hips and heard him groan. She sighed with relief as he entered her further and further, urged on by her throbbing loins and shuddering groans.
He stopped too soon, with a light breath of air against her intimate folds rather than his hot skin. She was stuffed full of his masculinity, her channel spread wider than she’d ever imagined. Every sense was engorged by him, the scent of his musk, the sound of his seductive voice, the feel of his hands gripping her…
But it wasn’t enough. She wanted all of this man, burned to contain every inch of his shaft. She wanted nothing between then, not even the hint of a breeze. Her hips circled and arched in a desperate bid for completion. Suddenly, something deep inside shifted and opened for him.
And Donovan’s cock settled its last inch in her as easily as a knife into hot custard. He choked out a word in a language she’d never heard before. His arms slipped around her as she happily took his full weight.
“Oh yes,” Viola moaned, and nuzzled his shoulder. Her channel flexed around him, eager for his next move. “Oh yes, Donovan.”
Then he began to move. His cock glided out of her until only its head linked them. He slowly filled her again and repeated the cycle.
Viola tightened herself around him when he withdrew the second time. He growled at that but kept to his desired tempo, gradually building up speed until he was slamming into her with a force that made the bed shake.
“More, Donovan, more! Please,” Viola sobbed. She wrapped her arms and legs around him so that her limbs clung to his torso as strongly as her folds kissed his cock. Sweat dripped from both of them as their flesh slapped against each other.
Still he rode her, hard and long, while his sapphire eyes watched her. He varied the angle and depth of his strokes as if exploring even the most hidden parts of her. He slowed whenever she approached a climax, then returned to shafting her when her breathing eased.
“Please, please,” she begged, but he continued to push them both further. Rapture built in every fiber of Viola’s body. She was agonizingly aware of him and desperate for the release only he could give.
“That’s my sweetheart,” he praised her after one particularly anguishing pause. She could only moan in response, having lost the ability to form words under the pressure of her sensual agony.
His speed increased again and again until she was sliding back and forth across the bed’s silken coverlet with every stroke. Drums built deep within her core, gathering together in a demanding choir.
Suddenly he froze and threw his head back with a shout. His cock pulsed and erupted deep inside her. Freed by his pleasure, waves of rapture thundered up through her core.
Viola sobbed her pleasure to the universe as she climaxed.
She drifted back to consciousness slowly and found herself curled amidst the sheets, the silken coverlet now tossed onto the floor. Viola blinked at the disarray next to the bed, which didn’t match any memory of something she’d done. The only light came from a single small lamp near the bed.
Then a cool washcloth stroked the inside of her thighs, soothing her tender skin. She purred as her legs automatically fell further open.
“Good girl,” a dark voice rumbled.
She squeaked and stared up for the first time at the cloth’s wielder. “Mr. Donovan, what are you doing?”
“Preparing you for our next ride, sweetheart.” He rinsed the cloth in a basin and gently cleaned her intimate folds.
“Next ride? When?”
“As soon as you’re refreshed and ready, sweetheart.”
“Tonight?”
“Of course.” He dipped the washcloth into the cool water again. “You’re an exciting filly and I’ll enjoy you every chance I have. Did you expect something different?”
Viola gulped. “No, sir.” No wonder he spent so much money at Mrs. Smith’s if his appetites were this strong. Still, his first possession of her had been as fine as dollar cotton.
She smiled at the recollection and shot a quick glance at his groin. His cock rested against his thigh, rich with color but not yet rampant with eagerness.
Donovan dropped the cloth into the basin finally and returned both to the bathroom. She rolled to her side to watch him and fumbled for a sheet when he returned.
“Sweetheart,” he warned. “Did I tell you to hide yourself from me?”
Her hand stilled guiltily. “No, sir.”
Donovan drew the fine linen away from her, making her tremble. He sat down next to her and thumbed her nipple casually as he watched. It promptly remembered its adventures earlier that evening and hardened in anticipation.
“Your breasts are too rich a treasure to be hidden, sweetheart,” he mused.
Viola couldn’t think of a word to say.
She’d always considered herself scrawny, hardly the sort of female a man would like to watch. Her pulse pounded and dew built between her legs again.
“You’ll cover yourself only with what I give you, sweetheart. Do you understand?” Donovan looked up at her face, his hand still doing miraculous things to her eager flesh.
She blinked. Was there a hidden meaning to his command? It seemed innocuous enough. It was so hard to think when his fingers moved like that. “Yes, sir, I understand.”
“Good filly,” he praised, and dropped his mouth to her. She gasped and arched up against him.
And Donovan savored her breasts as if he’d only just encountered them…
William lay quietly in the bed with Viola, listening to her sleep. Her delectable rump was tucked neatly against him, a warm pillow for his cock. Moonlight slipped around the curtains and painted her in shimmering silver.
He stroked her slowly, savoring the contrast between satin skin and strong, lithe muscles. She’d actually managed to lock her heels in the small of his back, the adorable little hedonist. He’d be able to explore some very obscure positions with her, perhaps some he’d only heard of.
Or maybe he’d just spend weeks teaching her the simplest methods. Take her so often she’d always remember him, and how he felt inside her, no matter whom she married.
He cursed silently, the Gaelic phrases summing up his jealousy of that unknown man. His hand slipped up and cupped her breast, kneading it. His, dammit, his.
She firmed under his touch and her hips pushed back against him.
“My Viola.” He bared his teeth in a smile that was almost a snarl. He kissed her neck, lapping at that most sensitive point.
She gasped and moaned, “Mr. Donovan.”
He snatched a condom from the tin on the night table, reared up, and applied it hastily. His breath caught as he stared at her beautiful rump, gleaming in the moonlight.
“My filly, the sweetest ride in the world.” He lifted her hips up and shoved a pillow underneath. He was in her before she could say another word, cock settling into her velvet sheath like homecoming.
The Irish Devil Page 9
