Chapter Eighteen

The dam had broken, and Daniel didn’t care. All the walls he’d put up to keep her out fell at once, and restraint went straight to the devil as want overrode all the warnings blaring in his mind. He kissed her, reveling in the feel of her soft curves pressed against him, in the give of her body as he wrapped himself around it, threading his fingers into the living fire of her hair.

Nuzzling her neck, he pressed kiss after kiss into the hot skin beneath her jaw and breathed in the faint, intoxicating scent of lavender and Olivia. His palms molded her contours, recalling her shape from their unwitting exploration when she’d fainted the first time they’d met, eager to find and map out undiscovered country. Every time his hands found new territory—like the pads of his thumbs as they brushed against her nipples through the silk of her gown, for instance—she marked it with a tiny gasp.

It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was as fuel flung onto a naked flame. He couldn’t get enough. Everything in him demanded more.

Bending, he scooped her up and hoisted her aloft. Arms wrapped around his neck, and he felt the softness of lips against his jaw and then gentle suction just beneath his ear. It sent goosebumps racing across the whole of his skin as he carried her over to the nearest couch. Fire followed, however, at the delicious slide of her body against his as he laid her down upon it.

Piece by piece, clothing came off in a frenzy of kisses and fumbling hands until the only things remaining between them were her chemise and his trousers.

His heart thundered in his ears as she, eyes dark with desire, eased herself back onto the cushions and laid herself out before him in invitation. Accepting that invitation was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

With her every breath, the translucent material of her chemise tempted him with tantalizing glimpses of rosier flesh beneath. Not bothering to remove it, he instead cupped a warm, silk-clad mound in his palm and bent his head to run his tongue over it. He was rewarded with a soft, incendiary gasp of pleasure, so he did it again, until eager hands clutched at his hair, pulling him away and toward the other side. Willingly, he obeyed. Soon, however, the barrier between them, fragile as it was, became an annoyance he was no longer able to tolerate.

Pulling back, he took the sheer garment’s hem and eased it upward. A wriggle, and the material slid out from beneath her bottom. Slipping a palm beneath her back, he helped her sit up as he drew it over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of delicate white silk stockings held on by pastel blue satin ribbons.

Words failed him. Locked in a haze of feelings and urgent sensations, his mind simply refused to form them. All he knew was that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Bending, he positioned himself over her on the couch and once more drew from the well of her mouth to slake his thirst. Rather than satisfy his need, however, the act only made the blaze within him burn that much hotter.

At any moment, he felt he might ignite. The hardness between his legs throbbed, and he pressed it against her thigh, delighting in the sweet pressure and momentary physical relief. But it did nothing to ease his desire. Indeed, it only drove him further to the edge.

When she threw a leg over his waist and pressed closer, he knew she was just as desperate as he, that her ache was as great as his. Briefly disentangling himself, he pushed his breeches down to his knees and kicked them the rest of the way off. Coming back, he settled in the cradle of her thighs.

The need to touch her took over, and he slipped his hand between their bodies. Finding what he sought, he teased her swollen flesh with the gentlest of touches, eliciting a low, throaty moan. He answered in kind and, settling on his knees, renewed his siege on her lips, neck, and newly bared breasts.

Breaths mingled, tongues twined, and lips caressed, whispering endearments against heated skin as Daniel lost himself utterly to the woman in his arms.

…

He tasted of brandy, and the look in his eyes was pure sin. But his touch was that of an angel. Never in her most impassioned dreams had she imagined it would be like this, that he would be so gentle. Whispered tales of his prowess in the bedchamber had described him as an unrestrained, aggressive lover who enjoyed an equally aggressive and uninhibited bedpartner.

But though his muscles trembled with desire, he hadn’t simply fallen upon her to ravish and take. Rather, he seemed to delight in her pleasure, in wringing every possible sound of passion he could from her lungs. With each sigh she let escape, his efforts only increased.

The fingers of his free hand skimmed over her body, raising gooseflesh in their wake. It was both wonderful and maddening. Emboldened, she did likewise, tracing patterns on his skin with her fingertips. His groaned response was like a lion’s purr. She couldn’t help smiling at the sheer joy of finally being able to touch him like this, to feel his muscles twitch beneath her hands, to know the heat and solidity of his body, to memorize its texture.

Turning her head, she buried her face in the juncture of his neck and shoulder and placed an open-mouthed kiss there. His skin tasted faintly of salt and something slightly bitter—soap, most likely. And something else. Something unique. Devlin.

He raised his head, his eyes gone dark and predatory, and kissed her again before tilting her head back to mouth at first her pulse and then her collarbone.

Breath hitching in anticipation, she watched as he lowered his head over her now-bare breast and ran the flat of his tongue across its dusky peak. Oh! That felt much different without a layer of batiste acting as a buffer! She couldn’t help arching upward, offering herself up for more.

With delicate flicks that made her jolt and shudder, he obliged and then sent another shockwave of pleasure through her with a light nip followed by delicious suction, eliciting a long, breathy moan as his hot mouth engulfed the sensitive nub.

Her other breast began to throb with a combination of sympathy and want, and her hands acted of their own accord to draw his head over and sate it, too. The delicious torment continued, escalating by increments until she writhed shamelessly, the hollow ache inside growing unbearable as he worshiped at the altar of her body like a supplicant, his adulation slow, almost reverent. Under such tender ministrations, she shuddered with need in its purest form.

Feather-light touches had made her flushed nether flesh slick with desire, yet still he waited, drawing out her pleasure until it edged into frustration and her hips bucked, her body demanding completion, silently begging.

As if it were the signal he’d been waiting for, he shifted, moving lower, pressing kisses into her sternum, belly, the sensitive creases where her abdomen met her thighs. All the while, gentle fingers caressed her below, until she could do nothing but close her eyes and drown in dizzying pleasure.

Suddenly, a new sensation made her shiver as strong hands firmly gripped her hips and a huff of warm air ghosted over her most private place. The shock of realization made her gasp, and her eyes flew open to look down and see his dark head between her thighs. Before she could even draw breath to protest, his hot, slick tongue lapped at her entrance and then delved between her folds to stroke the swollen bud nestled within.

All thoughts of protest died as she involuntarily arched her back like a drawn bow. Whether it was from the electrifying sensation of his mouth on her flesh or the mortification of knowing he was kissing her…down there, she couldn’t tell. There was no time to decide, because her entire body was reacting to this new stimulation in a wholly unanticipated, utterly wanton manner.

Soft little cries fell from her lips one after another as he dipped his tongue inside her like a butterfly sipping at a flower, over and over, slowly building the fire deep within her. With each stroke, it grew, threatening to consume her, becoming a ravenous hunger that she felt would never be satisfied. Raking her fingers across his shoulders, she threaded them into his hair and pulled.

His midnight-blue gaze rose to meet hers, and something new snapped into place between them, a connection. As she stared into his blown pupils, she saw his heart, saw his love for her.

“Let go, Olivia,” he commanded, his voice lower and rougher than she’d ever heard it before. “Let go. I’ve got you. Come for me, my love.”

My love. Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes and completely gave herself over to the moment as his mouth again closed over her. The tension that had ebbed and flowed in time with his motions finally broke. Her entire body tightened in an unanticipated paroxysm of pleasure so intense it wrung a wordless, raw cry from her throat.

Yet still he didn’t stop, continuing to lave her swollen flesh, eliciting spasm after spasm of ecstasy, until it felt as if she were floating like a leaf caught in a fast current. Finally, when it all became too much and her hands instinctively began to push at him instead of pulling, he rose and crawled up her body to kiss her again slowly, deeply.

The taste of herself on his tongue was unexpectedly, shockingly erotic. She couldn’t believe he’d done something so scandalous! Or that she’d liked it so very much. Or that he’d given her such pleasure without taking any for himself.

Even as the thought entered her pleasure-fogged mind, she felt his length twitch between their bodies where it was pressed against her belly, burning hot and as hard as stone. Bracing her palms against his shoulders, she gently pushed.

His weight lifted as he rose and leaned back on his knees between her legs, a look of tender concern on his face. “Too heavy?”

“No.” Heat mounted in her face, but she smiled nonetheless and shot a meaningful glance down toward the seat of his desire. “But what about you?” Embarrassed to say more, she instead spoke with her body, tightening her knees against his flanks in invitation.

He blinked, guilt flickering in his eyes, and she felt him tense. “We…we should not have done this,” he said faintly, brows lowering. His face tightened. “I think—”

Leaning up, she put a stop to that, licking into his mouth in an imitation of what he’d done earlier as she wound her arms around his neck to pull him back down. No thinking. Think later.

Unwilling to give him any chance to collect his thoughts again, she reached down between them and firmly grasped his throbbing length, eliciting a long, almost agonized sounding groan from her lover. That’s more like it.

She knew she ought to be mortified to be touching him so boldly, but the sounds he poured into her mouth every time she moved her hand chased away any shame. The fact that she could drive all rational thought from his mind the same way he’d done to her was immensely gratifying.

Even so, he rallied, pulled back an inch, and again tried to stop her. “You could get with child,” he whispered shakily.

He had a point. She wanted children but preferred to conceive after they were properly wed. “Then I’ll do for you what you did for me,” she murmured against his lips, running her thumb over the smooth, round head of his manhood to play with the slit at its tip as she again kissed him, swallowing his groan.

Blue-black eyes slid shut and a long shudder ran through him as she spread the bead of warm, viscous fluid that had been accumulating there across his sensitive flesh. That a man would produce a substance similar to her own slickness when aroused was something she’d not known before. Without breaking their kiss or releasing her hold, she nudged him back until he was on his knees and she was kneeling before him.

Were his nipples as sensitive as hers? Running her free hand down across his chest, she lightly circled one with a fingertip to see. A hard flinch and a hiss of indrawn breath against her lips told her they were.

Smiling, she lowered her grip on his shaft and gave it an experimental pump at the same time as she lightly pinched his other nipple. Another jolt. Another gasp.

While he was still reeling from that, she bent and ran her tongue across that same nipple and then covered it with her mouth to suck lightly on it, the way he’d done to hers. The response was immediate as he let out a ragged moan and raised his hands to tangle in her hair.

That gave her another sort of feeling altogether. Knowing she had him literally in the palm of her hand, at her mercy to the point of forgetting himself, made her feel…powerful.

The hot, velvet-covered steel in her grip leaped as she swirled her tongue against his hardened nipple before gently nibbling at it.

Wetness, fresh and warm, seeped out against the pad of her thumb below.

Then I’ll do for you what you did for me…

That she’d offered to do such a thing was more than a little shocking. But she’d meant it. He’d tasted her and given her pleasure. It was only fair that she reciprocate. And, after all, they were going to be husband and wife soon, and nothing they could do to each other, with each other, could be “bad” or “wicked” as long as they married.

While she’d not heard any married ladies discussing what she was about to do—something she’d only overheard talked about by young bucks in snickering whispers after they’d taken too much liquor—she was sure many had done it. She wondered if they’d enjoyed it. If she’d enjoy it. Naturally, it wouldn’t feel as good as when he’d put his mouth on her, but he’d certainly seemed to enjoy pleasuring her. Maybe she’d feel likewise.

She ought to find the idea repulsive. She didn’t. Instead, she found herself wondering about how he would react, what new noises she could pull out of him. Despite having just been pleasured, to her surprise, her nether parts began to tingle again in anticipation.

It surprised her that she was excited at the prospect of pleasuring him, and it struck her that her previous ideas concerning passion had all been pale imaginings compared to the reality. All the warnings that had been issued about chastity suddenly had merit. Passion could indeed turn a saint into an absolute libertine.

Another nip of her teeth against taut, pebbled flesh dragged an even louder groan from the man in her thrall, and his trembling fingers tightened against her scalp.

If I am to do this, it’s now or never. Mirroring his earlier actions, she sank down, leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses against defined muscle. A glance upward showed her his head thrown back, the underside of his jaw and the column of his throat exposed. His whole chest heaved with every shuddering breath, as if he were struggling for air. The sight sent another thrill coursing through her as it burned itself into her memory.

Suddenly she couldn’t hold back any longer. She needed to see him lose himself to her the way she had to him. Closing her eyes—she was still a maiden, after all, and actually looking at his manly bits up close might actually make her combust from embarrassment and end this delightful experiment in abashed disappointment—she bent and gave him an experimental lick, much as one might a spoonful of iced cream.

The taste was…certainly nothing like iced cream. It was nothing at all like anything she’d imagined. Not particularly pleasant, but not repugnant, either, she couldn’t say she delighted in it, but the noises he was making as she flicked her tongue over that part of his body—that she could relish. And, too, overlaying the faintly bitter taste was a deeper, richer flavor she’d already sampled on his skin. The taste of him. Of Devlin Wayward. That made it, if not precisely delicious, at least enjoyable.

Having acclimated somewhat, she swirled her tongue and then took the tip of him into her mouth. The fingers in her hair twitched violently, and a coarse, choked gasp sounded above—a gasp that ended on her name.

Anything even remotely resembling distaste was forgotten entirely. Devlin Wayward, the love of her life, was all but incoherent in the throes of passion, and her name was the one on his lips. Hers. No one else’s.

Mine. He is mine. Fierce possessiveness awakened within her breast, and with it, the fire of her passion burned all the hotter. That passion translated itself into her motions, which became more enthusiastic, which translated into more gasps and louder moans from her beloved.

It didn’t take long before another choked, almost pained noise—this one different from those preceding—issued from above, and the hands tangled in her hair suddenly pulled her up and off, forcing her to release him from her mouth with a soft, wet pop.

“Olivia!” rasped Devlin, hastily removing one of his hands from her hair to grasp his shaft and point it away from her face just as his entire body jerked in an uncontrolled movement and white, viscous fluid pulsed from the tip of his twitching member, spattering across his abdomen and flank.

Curiosity made her want to taste that, too, but he was looking at her now, and shyness had reasserted itself. Wild, midnight blue eyes stared at her, filled with a mixture of shock and awe.

She felt like a goddess. A very naughty, very powerful goddess. Desire thrummed in her veins once again as the hand still buried in her hair drew her back toward him to receive a kiss that made her still-tingling mouth feel pleasantly bruised.

Kneeling there, she held him close, carding through his dark, unruly hair, stroking his chiseled jaw, reveling in the texture of both against her fingertips—one soft, the other faintly scratchy. Her pounding heart slowed in time along with their mingled exhalations.

After a moment, he took up his discarded shirt and used it to clean himself, and then together they laid down on the couch, this time with him beneath and her atop.

Warmth and affection suffused her as his arms wrapped around her, as he gazed up at her with adoring eyes and traced swirling patterns across her bare skin.

Laughing a little when he came too close to a ticklish spot, she leaned in and pressed a long, slow kiss to his mouth to make him stop. Breaking it with a sigh, she snuggled closer and laid her head on his shoulder, delighting in the weight of his arm as it draped across her, keeping them pressed together.

Exhaustion seeped in as he gently rubbed the nape of her neck with the pad of his thumb, and she fought it, wanting this moment to last forever. But eventually, she had no choice but to give in to it and close her eyes. “I love you, Devlin,” she murmured on a happy sigh as sleep claimed her.