Cold-Hearted Rake

Nothing existed outside of this bed. There was only the sensuous friction of tangled limbs and gently wandering hands. She whimpered as he cupped her bottom and brought her against the hard ridge of his aroused flesh. He guided her hips in a slow rhythm, rubbing her sensuously against him until she began to moan with each stroke. The soft place he teased began to swell and twitch with sensation, and she flushed with shame. She shouldn’t feel this way, she shouldn’t want… what she wanted. No matter how close she pressed to him, she needed more. She could almost have attacked him, the desire was so acute.

As she squirmed against him, Devon flinched and gasped, and she realized she had inadvertently pressed against his ribs.

“Oh… I’m sorry…” Kathleen began to roll away from him, panting.

“No harm done.” He kept her in place. “Don’t go.” He was breathing hard – it must have been hurting him – but he didn’t seem to care.

“We have to stop,” she protested. “It’s wrong, and it’s dangerous for you – and I feel —” She paused. No word in her vocabulary could account for the seething desperation that filled her, the agonizing tension coiling inside.

Devon nudged her intimately, the subtle movement drawing a deep shiver from her.

“Don’t,” she moaned. “I feel hot and ill, and I can’t think. I can’t even breathe.”

She couldn’t fathom why Devon was amused, but as he brushed his lips against her cheek, she felt the shape of his smile.

“Let me help you, love.”

“You can’t,” she said in a muffled voice.

“I can. Trust me.”

He pressed her onto her back, his parted lips dragging over her throat and chest. She didn’t realize that he’d been working at the fastenings of her clothes until he spread her gown open.

She started as cool air wafted over her bare skin. “Devon —”

“Hush.” The word blew against the tip of her breast.

She moaned as his mouth covered her, drawing in the tender flesh with a firm, warm tug.

It seemed that his notion of how to help was to heap even more torment on her. He cupped her breasts in his hands and suckled with the lightest possible pulls, until her hips stirred helplessly to relieve the merciless tension. His palm slid beneath her nightgown to clasp her bare hip.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, “your skin, your shape, every part of you.” His hand insinuated between her thighs, easing them apart. “Open for me… a little more… yes… God, how soft you are, here… and here…”

He sifted through crisp curls and stroked into the tender furrow, separating the wetly yielding layers with his fingertips until an aching peak of flesh was revealed. Skillfully he teased around it and traced the melting-soft folds down to the entrance of her body. A jolt of surprise shook her as the tip of his finger slipped inside the tightness. Her eyes flew open, and she reached down reflexively, gripping his thickly muscled wrist.

Devon went still, seeming confounded as he stared down at her scarlet face. His expression changed to a mixture of wonder and pleasure and lust. “Does it hurt, love?” he asked huskily.

Her body had clamped around the intrusion, throbbing and smarting. “A… a little.” Awkwardly she tugged at his wrist, but he resisted the wordless plea.

Gently his thumb swirled over the tight, sensitive bud. His finger slid deeper inside her, caressing, eliciting such abundant wetness that she cringed and tried to look past the tangled bunch of the nightgown around her waist.

Breathing hard, he pressed his lips to the anxious lines of her forehead. “No, don’t worry. You become wet… in here… when your body is ready for me… it’s lovely, it makes me want you even more… Ah, sweet… I can feel you holding me.”

She could feel it too, her flesh working in lubricious pulls to welcome him. The invasion withdrew briefly, and then two fingers slipped inside, stretching her uncomfortably tight. His entire hand cupped her, the heel of it pressing against the soft crest of her sex, his fingers thrusting deep, deep, and she couldn’t help arching in hot confusion. Too much sensation was rolling up to her, making her heart thump so wildly that it frightened her.

“Stop,” she whispered through dry lips. “Please… I’m going to faint…”

His taunting whisper tickled her ear. “Then faint.”

The tension heightened unbearably. She spread her legs, helplessly rocking against his hand. It all began to uncoil with astonishing force, tumbling her headlong through a release so consuming that it felt like dying. The sensation kept opening, flowering, breaking into squeezing shudders. As she moaned and gasped, Devon kissed her, sucking at her lips as if he could taste the sounds of her pleasure. Another surge went through her, the heat spreading in her head, breasts, stomach, groin, while his mouth never stopped ravishing hers.

After the last liquid shivers had faded, she wilted against him, her head swimming. She was vaguely aware of having moved to her side, her face pressed to the softly springy hair on Devon’s chest. He had pulled her gown back down over her hip, one hand rubbing her bottom in comforting circles, while his breath eased back to its normal rhythm. She had never wanted to sleep as much as she did right then, steeped in the warmth of his body, snuggled close in his arms. But she could hear the distant sounds of housemaids beginning their morning chores, cleaning the grates, sweeping the carpets. If she stayed much longer, she would be discovered.