Devil in Spring

His parted lips dragged slowly over her neck and down to her breasts. She arched as he captured a taut nipple with his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, catching at it lightly with his teeth. His hand covered her other breast, shaping the malleable flesh, before sliding along the side of her body, charting the curves of waist and hip. The hem of her nightdress had ridden up on her thighs, making it easy for him to tug it up to her waist. Shocked, she clamped her thighs together.

Her toes bunched at the sound of his soft laugh. Devilish, sensuous, knowing. Easing to his side, Gabriel trailed his fingertips across her stomach to her navel, caressing around it with lazy circles. At the same time, he kissed and sucked at the tip of her breast until it was wet and unbearably sensitive.

His fingertips tickled their way down to the thatch of silky-coarse curls between her thighs, stroking idly. Pandora writhed, her gaze unfocused. Oh God, was she really letting him do this? Yes, she was. Moaning with shame and worry, she felt him playing softly with her, the tip of his middle finger sliding into the top of the delicate furrow of her sex. A brief, ticklish swirl left her gasping. Her legs pressed together more tightly.

His mouth released her breast. “Open to me,” he whispered.

She bit her lip as he stroked through the curls, the darting touches of his fingers making her weak. Her body was nothing but heat driven by heartbeats. Nothing was clear anymore. Nothing mattered except what he was doing to her. Her legs shook, and she whimpered at the effort it took to keep them together.

“Pandora . . .” His voice was soft and seductive. “Open to me.” His fingertip insinuated between the sensitive folds of her sex and wriggled gently. The sensation rippled through her like flickers of white flame. “So stubborn,” he whispered. “Oh, Pandora, don’t tempt me. You’re going to make me do something wicked.” His forefinger slid along the seam of her closed thighs. “Just part them one inch. For me.” A hot breath of laughter fanned against her skin. “Not even an inch?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she protested. “You’re bothering my nervous condition.”

“This is a well-known treatment for female nerves.”

“It’s not helping. You’re . . . ahh! . . . making it worse . . .”

Gabriel was moving lower, tasting her skin, biting softly, using his teeth . . . lips . . . tongue . . . She tried to roll out from beneath him, but he caught her hips and held her in place. There was a wet swirl around her navel, painting it with liquid fire before trailing downward. Her heart thudded painfully as she felt him breathe against the most intimate place of her body. He nuzzled into the wispy curls, separating them with his tongue. A peculiar slide of heat, a slithery tickle.

Astonished, she shrank away from him, but he stayed with her, licking into wet-rose tenderness, teasing it open. Her thighs fell apart in helpless surrender. His tongue found moist silken flesh, the soft-secreted bud, and circled lightly, delicately, while his hands moved slowly up and down her thighs.

Pleasure was spreading everywhere, beneath her skin and in the spaces between her heartbeats. All her senses focused on the spell he was working, an enchantment of fire wrapped in darkness. He rested the flat of his tongue against her, and to her everlasting embarrassment, her hips pushed against him. After a few fluttering strokes, his tongue went flat and still again. She couldn’t stop herself from writhing, and she felt the heat of his chuckle against her. He was playing with her, making her do shameful things. As her hands fumbled to push his head away, he caught her shaking wrists and pinned them to the sofa. He found a rhythm of light, steady flicks that made her insides clench rhythmically, like a heartbeat. He knew what he was doing, relentlessly stoking the feeling higher, higher, until it turned molten and began to flood every part of her. She tried to hold it back, but that only made it worse, setting off long, bone-deep shudders that wracked her entire frame. She felt her eyes roll back in her head, her limbs drawing up with the primitive urge to close around something.

As the last tremors smoothed into peacefulness, Gabriel rose over her and pulled her into his arms. She stretched and nestled against his side, hitching a thigh over one of his. Her limbs felt pleasantly heavy, as if she were waking from a long sleep, and for once her mind was utterly focused, without the distraction of too many thoughts. She felt the shapes of words brushing her ear as he whispered something, the same few words over and over, until Pandora stirred and mumbled, “That’s my bad ear.”

His smile curved against her cheek, and he lifted his head. “I know.”

What had he been whispering? Bemused, Pandora let her hand drift over his chest, playing with the light, glinting fur, feeling the armor of ribs and hard muscle beneath. The flesh of his stomach and sides was so different from hers, tough and sinewy, the skin gleaming like polished marble.

Fascinated, she let the backs of her fingers inch timidly to the front of his trousers, where the heavy ridge of his aroused flesh strained against the black broadcloth. Turning over her hand, she dared to curve her palm against the shaft, and followed it all the way down to the base and up again. It was scary and exciting and unbelievable to be touching him like this. His breath quickened, and an involuntary quiver chased across his stomach as she gripped over the stiffness.

Beneath her fingers, the hard flesh seemed to possess its own pulses and responsive twitches. She wanted to see this mysterious part of him. She wanted to find out what it felt like. The front of his trousers had been styled in the classic formal design, a fall attached with two side rows of buttons. Timidly her hand slid to the nearest row of buttons.